I laugh lightly before lifting my head up to look at him. The room grows quiet, and I gaze up at the outline of his face through the darkness as I feel his stare on me.
“You’re wearing the T-shirt,” he points out.
I nod, my lips curving in the tiniest of smiles. “I guess I was feeling nostalgic.” I shrug, as if it’s not a big deal, but both he and I know it was the beginning of everything. The beginning of us.
He lets his head fall back on a breathless laugh. “Guess what popped up on Matt’s memories on Facebook a few weeks ago.”
“What?” I ask.
“That damn picture of me wearing The Flash outfit.”
I laugh because, damn, that must have been one hell of an eyesore. “Well, it kinda goes with the territory of dressing up as the female version of The Flash.”
“I preferred a time when social media didn’t exist to show every one of my drunken antics to the world. Although seeing The Flash pictures is never a bad thing.”
“And how’s that?” I question, intrigued.
“Well, it got me the woman of my dreams,” he speaks confidently.
I sense he’s smiling. My chest constricts.
Woman of his dreams? Why does that make me sound like a fraud?
I don’t particularly feel worthy of that statement.
I don’t feel worthy of anything.
“I hardly think I deserve that title.” My voice cracks, and I hate how vulnerable I sound.
A hand leaves the warm cocoon of my T-shirt. He brushes my hair behind my ear, his thumb caressing along my cheek, and my eyes flicker closed at the very feel.
“Fuck, how can you even say that? You’re the motherfucking Wonder Woman of my dreams,” he passionately grits out. “You’re everything to me.”
I almost swoon. Almost being the operative word.
“Why is it that you always know the right thing to say to me?”
“Because I’m brilliant like that. Plus, watching so much Star Trek growing up made me so much smarter than I really should be.”
“Everything always has to come down to Star Trek,” I say with a fond smile.
I shift my position until I’m lying beside him. Our bare legs instinctively lock together, and we fit effortlessly together as I rest my head in the crook of his neck, my fingers tracing the hard ridge of his pectoral muscles. His fingers continue their heavenly rub up and down my back, and for several minutes, neither of us utters a single word. We’ve always been the sort of couple who never needed noise to drown out the silence. It’s never been awkward, just as it isn’t now, but with the unspoken words that linger between us, there’s an edge to our silence that was never there before. It’s a little unnerving, to say the least, but it doesn’t affect how cherished and safe I feel in his arms.
“I wish it weren’t like this,” I whisper a second later, breaking up the silence.
“Like what?” Tyler asks, confusion tracing his voice.
“I wish we hadn’t lost two months. I wish I didn’t feel like this,” I confess, needing to get these words off my chest.
“How do you feel?” His soft voice reverberates through me, calming me enough that I want to give him an honest answer.
Silence grows between us as I try to figure out a way to describe the emptiness I bear in the pit of my stomach, a constant battle I endure daily.
“Defeated…lost…sad,” I say slowly, honestly.
“It kills me to see you like this. I’d do anything to take your pain away.”
Unfortunately, the world doesn’t work like that, I think to myself.
I elaborate my thoughts out loud. “I wish you could. I hate feeling so out of my depth. It’s like I’m drowning with no strength to resurface. It’s suffocating, but the only person who can fix this is me. I think, for me to heal, I need to be alone.”
“Mia…” he begins to protest.
But I pivot my head up to look at him and shut him up by placing a gentle kiss to his lips. A surprised groan escapes the back of his throat at the impact of our lips connecting. I almost cry at the very touch, but I pull away before I allow it to go too far. We haven’t had a single rational conversation all weekend. Our words have either ended up in a heated argument, or…well, we have almost had hot sex. And all it has created is more pain and us feeling more pissed off than before. I want to take advantage of the calmness before everything turns to shit again. Because it will. It’s just a matter of time.
“Tyler, I’m not saying it’s the end of us. In all honesty, I’ve no idea who we are anymore—”
“You’re my wife, and I’m your husband. That’s exactly who we are,” Tyler interrupts, passionately and proudly stating each word.
I love him for it. He’s doing what he promised. He’s fighting for me, for our marriage, but it isn’t what I need. What I do need is his support, not a battle.
“Tyler, please just let me speak,” I beg, desperation thick in my voice.
He brushes his lips along my forehead. “Okay.”
I take a calming breath before continuing, “I’m so overwhelmed. With everything. I need time, Tyler. I need time to heal and figure out what I want. We’ll never work through our grief if every other day is going to be a replay of this weekend. If there will ever be another chance for us, we need to fix ourselves before we’re able to fix our marriage. Can you give me that? Can you give me time?”
He doesn’t answer for a long time, and I know he’s mulling over every word, wanting to fight against everything I just said. I know him. I know how he thinks.
Several long seconds pass before he lets out a heavy sigh. “You know I’ll give you anything you want. Hell, I’d give you the world if it were possible, but I made the mistake of letting you go two months ago, and I’m not so eager to do it again.”
“It’s not about walking away this time. I just need some breathing space to sort through my shit, and I need you to let me,” I stress, needing him to listen to me.
He grows quiet, and the way he stiffens against me, I know he’s battling with himself. He’s no doubt assessing what seems like the right thing for him, me, us.
“Okay,” he begins after a full minute. “If time is what you need to heal, then I’ll give you it, but don’t think for a second that I’m letting you walk out of my life again. When I said till death do us part, I meant every word, every fucking word.”
My heart clenches, and I snuggle deeper into his side.
“I’m not gonna let this break us, so if I’ve got to fight for the both of us, I’ll do it. I’ll be your strength. I’ll be your everything.”
The breath catches at the back of my throat, and I struggle to keep the tears at bay. His fingers crawl back under my T-shirt and continue to trace lines up and down my bare back, his lips brushing against my hair, and I wish there were a pause button, so we could stay like this forever.
“I might not know what the future holds for us, but if there is one thing I know for sure, it’s that I love you,” I say softly.
He shifts a little more to his side, and even though I can only see the outline of him through the moonlit room, I sense his piercing eyes looking down on me.
“And, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that I love you, too.”
My eyes flutter closed, and I clutch my chest, feeling my heart race between my fingertips. Nausea gathers in my stomach. His words should make me happy, but it makes me feel anything but. Instead, tears prick my eyes, and I struggle to contain my emotions. I can’t see anything beyond my heartache, and it scares me shitless. Everything is vague, and all I can see in the distance is blurriness, blind to everything around me.
“What if love isn’t enough? What if we can’t work through this? What if, after everything, there’s no way back for us? What then?” I unintentionally voice my worry with question after question, my voice shaky and unsure.
Tyler hisses, as if in pain, and I don’t miss the way he tightens his hold on me, almost as if, at any second now,
I’ll disappear into thin air.
“I can’t—” His voice cracks, agony evident in his rough words. “I can’t think about that. I won’t think about that,” he says with an urgency that slices my heart open. “The only thing I want to think about is you here, in my arms. I want to forget everything and just lie here and listen to you breathe.”
He then poetically recites words that leave me utterly breathless. The beginning of the chorus from our wedding song.
“Did you just quote parts of ‘Kiss Me’ by Ed Sheeran?” I ask before biting down on my bottom lip to stop it from trembling.
“No…” he begins seriously before adding with a little humor in his voice, “Well, yeah, but that guy is so much smoother with words than I am. Plus, it’s our wedding song. It’s a part of us.”
Tears seep out of the corners of my swollen eyes, and my breath comes out in uneasy exhales. I know what he’s doing and why he’s doing it. He’s reminding me of the promises we made to each other, and the wedding song represents that. It really is a part of us. I just wish the reminder didn’t make me feel like I was dying inside.
I understand though. He’s fighting for us any way he can, and he’s definitely pulling out all the stops. I love him for it, but I need to breathe, and currently, my brain can’t cope with anything he’s been throwing at me.
Everything is too overwhelming. This weekend just revealed to us that there is still too much pain lingering between us. I forgive him for the way he handled things, and I wished we hadn’t lost those months, but after all that time of dead silence, we can’t just pick up where we left off. I’m not the same person anymore. And, if I’m being honest, I don’t think he is either. It isn’t necessarily a bad thing—at least, not for him. He seems more open with his emotions, seems stronger and more determined than ever before. Me, on the other hand? I feel like the weaker version of myself.
I am slowly recognizing pieces of the old me. I mean, food is starting to taste better, I’m eating healthier, and I occasionally find myself smiling more, but emotionally, I couldn’t be any further from the person I once was. I’m angrier. Less patient. More depressed.
Before, where Tyler wanted to fight, we’d conquer together.
Now, where Tyler wants to fight, I want to resist.
Before, where Tyler wanted to speak, we’d talk until nightfall.
Now, where Tyler wants to speak, I want to scream.
We’re the polar opposite of what we once were. I hate it, but it’s the truth in its finest form.
I don’t have a single ounce of strength inside me, and this tug-of-war we have going on will eventually only weaken me more. I love him, but trying to find my way back while trying to fight for our marriage will only continue to push me over the edge.
I need time to find out who I’m supposed to be—whether that’s finding my old self or becoming a whole different person. I just know I need to be alone while I do that. Even if it kills me to be without him, without this.
“I can hear your mind working overtime. What are you thinking about?” Tyler asks me.
His soft voice sounds loud in the quietness, and it jolts me out of my internal thoughts.
I remain quiet for several beats to allow my mind to drift away, and I focus on his calming fingers that are currently caressing through the strands of my hair.
“I don’t want to talk anymore. I don’t want to think. I just want to lie here and pretend like everything is okay. Let’s forget for a while.”
It cripples me to even think this, but who knows if this will be the last time we are like this? Together.
So, I close my eyes and try to memorize the way his muscular body feels pressed up against mine, the magical way one hand strokes through my hair while the other continues to trace leisurely along my naked back. I’m trying to lock away the memory of the sweet yet musky scent of him that reminds me of home and the way the barest of his touches has goose bumps erupting through my entire body, and most importantly, I want to remember the way I feel in this moment.
Cherished.
Loved.
Safe.
I’m taking my time to absorb it all, to ensure I have every detail right, just in case our forever ends tonight.
I want to be able to take this memory away with me, so I can play it on repeat every time I have a bad day or as a remembrance of what I once had.
He pulls me closer to him until there isn’t an inch of our bodies not touching, just warmth on warmth. “I’m happy with that. Tonight, we can pretend, and tomorrow—”
I press my forefinger to his lips, immediately silencing him. “Shh…tomorrow doesn’t exist. Only now exists.”
When no more words are spoken between us, we lie there, enveloped in one another’s arms, and just like our song, I linger my lips against his neck while my heart beats steadily against his chest.
And, before sleep has the chance to lull me away, we perfectly capture the essence of Ed Sheeran’s song. It’s easy to pretend like time hasn’t passed, and we’re simply those two people from four years ago, who are falling in love all over again.
Tyler
As I begin to wake the next morning, I stretch my limbs before reaching out to touch the body lying beside me. My eyes flash open when I’m met with a cold, empty space, and in Mia’s place is the T-shirt she was wearing last night, neatly folded, with a small note lying on the top.
Shit. She’s already gone.
A few seconds pass, and the reality of not waking up beside her sinks in. My heart free-falls to my stomach as a groan of realization leaves my lips. Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I turn onto my side and take the small note in my hands to read it.
Last night was perfect…well, the last part at least, but I couldn’t bear saying good-bye this morning.
I love you, but I need to be on my own for a while.
Hopefully, I can find my way back to you.
If I do, I’m taking the T-shirt back.
Love,
Mia
I read Mia’s pretty handwriting a dozen more times, feeling rage bubbling up inside me as my eyes trace over the words good-bye, and, Hopefully, I can find my way back to you.
Good-bye? What kind of shit is that?
The way she says good-bye almost feels like she means it in the forever sense. She’s not even sure if she’ll find her way back to me. There is zero confidence in her written words, and that fucking crushes me. It’s like she’s given up on us all ready. She might as well have just written, It’s over, in big capital letters.
Defeated, I slump onto my back and let the letter fall onto my stomach where it feels like shards of glass are carving a broken heart into my intestines.
Instinctively, I reach out for the T-shirt, and I don’t hesitate to bring it up to my nose. I close my eyes when Mia surrounds me with her sweet and feminine smell, intermixed with the distinct citrus scent of the fragrance she wears. It overwhelms me but in the best yet worst way possible. Her smell is one of my favorite things about her, but smelling her in the form of the T-shirt she wore last night instead of waking up to her scent kills like a motherfucker.
I spent two months sleeping in this California king-size bed alone, and it’s been hell, but when I had her in my arms last night, my world felt right again. I knew it was only temporary, an illusion of perfection between a wife and husband. Now, reality has come back into place, and quite frankly, it’s a big, fat dick-slap to the face. She’s gone, leaving the bed feeling barren and cold. Leaving my heart feeling barren and cold.
At least she left a note. Even if every word is like a knife to the chest. I just don’t understand why she wants to be alone, especially after how angry she was for the two months of radio silence I gave her.
At the time, I thought I was giving her the space she needed, but now, I don’t know if that was the right decision. She was furious, but I think she’s become so accustomed to being alone that being with me again scares her. Or maybe I need to take her words at face valu
e and believe that our separation isn’t her walking away from this marriage. That it’s about trying to find the person she was before the loss of our baby. The same way I did during the last two months.
If it means she finds her way back to me at the end of her inner search, then the separation will be worth it. Hell, I’d wait forever if it meant, at the end of it all, she’d be back in my arms.
I grab my phone from the side table to check the time and see it’s only six in the morning. As much as I would like to mope around all day, cry into Mia’s favorite T-shirt, and drink myself silly with a bottle of Jameson—been there, done that, and got the T-shirt—I have work in a couple of hours. With everything else happening in my life, I don’t want to lose my job in the process. Reluctantly, I get out of bed and change into my running shorts and T-shirt, all the while repeating the words of Mia’s note in my head, growing more frustrated with it, frustrated with the shit that life loves to throw at you.
How the fuck did my life turn to shit in such a small amount of time?
I’ve no idea if letting her have more distance is relationship suicide.
Am I losing her? Was last night the last time I’d ever have her in my arms?
Those are just a couple of questions I have no way of answering because I don’t know.
I don’t fucking know.
Shit, I’d give anything to talk to my brother Christopher. He was always good at putting things into perspective, the smart-ass he was. He’d have known the right thing to say, the right thing to do.
It just sucks I can’t pick up the phone and say, Hey, man, I need you. Tell me what to do.
God, what I wouldn’t do to hear his voice.
He’d have loved Mia. Especially knowing she was the one to tame my wild ways—or at least, wild is the adjective he always used to describe my flirtatious behavior with women. I wasn’t that wild, but compared to him, who had only had eyes for Jo since he was the age of five, I was the definition of the male slut.
Till Forever Page 9
