Take 2 on Love

by Torrie Robles

  This is what I wanted when we landscaped the backyard five years ago. It was the first project we did once I received my first large royalty check. Heath had always wanted a built-in barbecue area, and I wanted a place where I could relax outside. He spent so many years building the inside for us that I wanted to do something for him on the outside. He fought me tooth and nail when I paid for the entirety of the project, but it was something that I needed to do for him.

  “Why did you decide to go to therapy?” I ask as I watch him move around the kitchen, putting the leftover food into plastic containers. The need to help him is palpable, but when I first arrived, he insisted on doing everything tonight. Although this was and will always be my home, I am his guest and guests don’t lift a finger.

  “Come on.”

  He doesn’t answer my question. He walks to the couch and grabs a throw from the back of the couch, draping it over his arm. I want to tell him not to take that blanket outside, it cost me way too much money to have it left in the weather overnight, but I bite my tongue because I know he’s trying and I’m not going to rain on his parade. Once he passes the kitchen counter, he grabs the pitcher of daiquiris and stops and turns towards me.

  “Let’s go relax by the fire, and we’ll continue this conversation.”

  I follow him outside because I’d like nothing more than to sit on my round couch with my dog and my fire pit. When I am settled on the cushion, Heath flicks the blanket, and it falls into my lap. After handing me a fresh glass of alcohol, he takes a seat next to me. Harper takes that opportunity to jump up on the edge of the seat and lay her head at my feet.

  “She misses you,” Heath tells me as he looks at her.

  “I’m sure she does since I’m the only one who allowed her table food.” I pat her head.

  “She not the only one, you know.”

  I turn my head towards Heath. The look on his face is so sincere. So different from the looks he’s given me over all these years.

  “You wanted to know why I’m in therapy.” I nod, so he continues. “Because I lost my world the moment you walked out our door. I never thought I’d spend a moment of my life without you, and once it hit me that you were actually gone, once the anger and the pity party was over, I knew that something needed to change. For years, I thought we were good. For years, I thought the downturns we went through were normal, but I was wrong. I finally decided that I need some perspective on me, and what I need to do to become a better father and husband because this isn’t a life I want to live if my world isn’t living it with me.”

  We talked for hours about Heath’s therapy. About the books he’s been reading, and how he understands that there are different languages of love. He has never been wrong for working hard to provide for the kids and me, I’ve always known that was his way of showing his love, but that wasn’t enough anymore, and he never listened to me when I tried to tell him that. He admitted that he never thought what I was saying was true because he knew what he thought and how he felt. It took these last few months apart to see why some of his thoughts were wrong.

  I feel his arm wrap around my shoulder and pull me closer to his body. “Now, tell me about New York,” he says into my hair. The warmth of his breath tickles, sending chills down my body.

  “Well, they want me to re-do the first two books in my most recent series.”

  “That’s a bunch of bullshit. There’s nothing wrong with those books.”

  I pull away from him so that I can meet his gaze. “How do you know that if you’ve never read them?”

  “Oh, baby, reading is my new favorite past time.” He gives me a wink. “I may give you a run for your money in how many books I’ll be able to put away in a year.”

  “No way.” I slap his chest in disbelief.

  “Yes way and I’d like to apologize. I always thought you were putting parts of our life in those books, and I wasn’t ever comfortable with that idea. I never liked the idea of strangers, or friends for that matter, looking into our life. Not that it was bad, well, I didn’t think it was bad, but it was our life, and I didn’t like the idea of sharing it with the world.”

  “They’re fiction, Heath.”

  “Well, I know that now.” He laughs, pulling me back into his embrace. “I still don’t think there’s room for improvement.”

  “Well, Harold thinks there is, and so does the editor that I met with. They’ve given me the option to re-write the books—well, expand on the books as they see fit, and if I get them to where they want them, they’re going to publish them.”

  He squeezes me to him, kissing the top of my head. “I’m so damn proud of you, Whit. You’re going to grasp those stars on the way to reaching your dreams.”

  We’ve talked about some of the deep issues, and some of the light sides of my trip to New York, and now we’re sitting in the cold winter night in complete silence. It’s funny, for most of my marriage the silence between the two of us has been defining at times. So much so that there have been many times, I’ve wanted to scream at the top of my lungs just to hear something.

  “Do you remember when the kids were little and you were giving Jenna a bath, and Trevor walked in while you were washing her?” Still wrapped in his arms, his chest vibrates against my back as he speaks.

  “I remember,” I tell him.

  “My God, that was probably one of the funniest things the kids have ever done or said.”

  He’s right, it does rank up there with the best memories. I had been giving Jenna a bath, she must have been about one and a half, and Trevor came barging into the bathroom wearing one of his favorite superhero capes. Heath was hot on his tail, wearing the Hulk mask, talking in pure Hulk fashion. When Jenna saw both Heath and Trevor, she got overly excited and started to splash. She splashed a little too hard, and some of the soapy water got into her eyes, making her instantly cry. I pulled her to her feet so I could wipe off her face.

  “Yeah, Trevor was so shocked. The look on his face was priceless.”

  “He stood there, pointing at Jenna. The look on his face when he realized she didn’t have the same equipment that he did–one I’ll never forget. Man, I wish I had a camera.”

  “His face? What about what he said.”

  Heath throws his head back and gives a deep belly laugh. “How could I forget that. ‘Hey, she doesn’t have a pee-pee! She’s got two butts!’”

  “He wouldn’t stop saying it either. ‘Two butts, two butts, she’s got two butts.’”

  “And the entire time Jenna was jumping up and down, giving her best gummy smile.”

  “He got her to stop crying.”

  “Yeah, he did.” I feel Heath give my arm a subtle squeeze. “He got a good brother award that day, that’s for sure.”

  “That was pretty funny. Now when I bring it up, I’m not sure who’s more embarrassed,” I snicker.

  I feel the rumble of his chest as he laughs. “What about the time when Charlie got his dirt bike?”

  “Oh please, Heath, don’t make me remember that. It was awful.”

  “I thought he knew the difference between the brake and the throttle. I didn’t know he would get them confused and run head first into that bush.”

  “We’re lucky you thought about a chest protector, or he would have had bruised ribs, that’s for sure.” He rubs his hand up and down my arm, continuing to relax me. “I wonder if that’s the reason he became so cautious with everything in his life. It seems since that incident he would rather take the safe way around things.”

  “I’m not sure enlisting in the military is safe.”

  “True, but he’s not on the front lines. He’s on base more than he is not,” I counter.

  “He’ll be fine, Whitney. He’s a smart kid. He comes from pretty good stalk.”

  His hands travel from my arm over my stomach. I should tell him to stop, but it feels too damn good. I haven’t been touched like this in so long that my body’s craving the connection. My eyes fall closed, enjoying the feel
of my husband’s hands on my body.

  “God, Whit…” He nuzzles into the crook of my neck, saying something against my skin that I can’t quite make out.

  I sit up, pulling my body from Heath. When I turn into him to ask what he said, I don’t get the chance because Heath’s lips come crashing down on mine. He snakes one hand around my waist while the other wraps around the nape of my neck, pulling me towards him. His tongue sweeps the seam of my lips, asking for permission, which I gladly give. A moan escapes my throat as I feel his tongue meet mine, and his teeth nip at my lip as he groans. The grip on my waist tightens as he tugs me closer.

  He pulls his lips away and rests his forehead on mine. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath. “I need you, Whitney.”

  Removing his hand from my waist, he takes my hand in his and places it on his erection. Once he removes his hand from mine, I grip tightly, making him groan again. I realize that I have the control here. That I have the ability to bring this man to his knees, and that’s a power I never realized I had before.

  This knowledge turns me on.

  I can feel the need pull within my stomach as my breasts become heavy. Sex between us has always been so mechanical, routine and never spontaneous. Never once have we had sex in our backyard, it never crossed my mind, but right now, as my grip becomes tighter, there’s nothing more I want at this moment.

  Without another thought, I put my hand on his chest, pushing down against the cushions of the couch. Straddling him, I grab the hem of my dress and pull it from my body. The chill of the winter air hits my heated skin. Leaning over, I kiss up his neck until my lips hit his ear.

  “Take me,” I whisper, the words coming out breathy. I pull back, and I’m met with Heath’s searching eyes. He’s looking for the certainty. Once he gets what he’s looking for, he jumps into action.

  We’re all teeth and tongues, our hands roaming over our bodies as we devour each other. I pull at his zipper from beneath me, struggling to pull his jeans free from his body. Once his jeans are down his legs, he continues with his boxers while I rid myself of my bra and underwear. As soon as his shirt is free from his body, he grabs me, flipping us around so my back hit the cushion. I feel Heath thrust into me, and my head falls back, a moan ripping from my body.

  His hands roam my skin, grabbing at me like he can’t get enough. He pounds into me with so much ferocity. I feel his hand grip my neck and my eyes snap open. When my gaze fixes on my husband, I see nothing but lust and yearning alive in his warm chocolate eyes. My gaze drops between our bodies, and I watch with fascination as his cock slides in and out, glistening by the flickering flames of the fire.

  “Fuck, Whit. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growls.

  Before I know it, my climax hits me full force. My body comes forward, causing him to drill deeper. “Heath!” I cry as I feel my pussy grip his dick, convulsing in pleasure.

  “Fuck, baby…” He grunts as he comes inside of me, pinning me in place as his orgasm rolls through his body. As his spasms lessen, so does the grip he has on my neck. He moves his hand back to the nape of my neck, pulling my lips to his, but he doesn’t stop there as he continues to pull me onto his lap, his now flaccid dick slipping out. His arms wrap around my body, holding me like he’s afraid that I’m going to leave.

  “Heath,” I say, trying to pull my body from his. “I need to clean up.”

  His grip loosens around my body. “Sorry.” He hands me the blanket to wrap around my body.

  “I’ll just be a minute.” I kiss his cheek before I gather my clothes and pad into the house.

  After cleaning up in the bathroom, I decide some warm tea sounds good. I head towards the kitchen before heading back out to Heath. I’ll make him a cup too. Once the Keurig is filled, I search for the pods in the cupboard. Liam’s warning about Heath’s intentions float through my mind, but I shake them free. I initiated that just as much as Heath did, and I’m not going to have Heath end up being the bad guy here. That was some of the best sex in my life, and there’s no way I’m going to have regrets.

  “Heath!” I yell from the kitchen, hoping he can hear me, “where did you move the tea pods?”

  Yanking the drawer open directly under the pot, I push through a few pieces of mail, until I see what looks like court documents. I reach into the drawer, I grab the papers. When my eyes make out what they are, my stomach drops. The tea long forgotten, I read what they are. Dissolution of Marriage heads the top of the page. The places where its states petitioner and respondent are blank.

  He printed divorce papers? Tears instantly spring to my eyes. My legs become weak, and my heart begins to race. He printed divorce papers. My mind races over the past few months, trying to catalogue the conversations, the times when he voiced his fears. All along, he’s taken the time to print up papers that could easily end our marriage. This isn’t what I wanted.

  Am I the reason?

  “Whit?” His voice startles me, making me flinch. When I meet his eyes, the color drains from his face when he notices what I’m holding in my hand. “No.” He shakes his head, and he takes a step forward.

  “No!” I scream back, lifting my other hand signaling that he needs to stop. I drop the papers and rush past him. His hand brushes against my arm before I pull it from his grasp. “Don’t touch me!” I yell over my shoulder grabbing my purse and scurrying from the house.

  “Whitney, you have to listen to me.” His voice is right behind me. “You need to let me explain.”

  Spinning around, I fling my hand, making contact with his face, slapping him with more force than I thought I was capable of. The sting in my hand radiates up my arm, hitting my heart and crushing everything I thought I knew of this man.

  “You don’t get to explain,” I cry.

  I make it to my car, pulling at the handle, wanting nothing more than to be in the comfort of my condo. “I don’t get to explain? I don’t get to explain?” he roars. “You can’t be serious right now. You’re the one that has been begging me to talk to you, and now you’re not going to let me explain myself? The one time I need you to listen, you don’t want to?”

  I slam the door closed and start my car. Pressing my foot on the gas, the tires squeal in the stillness of the night.

  As soon as my purse hits the counter, I pull open the refrigerator, searching for a something to drink. I break the seal from the water and bring it to my lips. My eyes close as the cold liquid runs down my throat.

  The sudden pounding on my door makes me jump. “Whitney,” Heath growls from behind my locked door.

  I walk over, placing my hand on the wood. “Heath, go home.”

  “No.” His voice is muffled. I hear a thump on the door, and I know Heath is resting his head. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until you listen to me.”

  “I don’t want to listen to you, Heath,” I hiss.

  “Whitney, you know me, and you know I will stand out here all night if I need to. Don’t test me. If I did it when I was fifteen, then I’ll do it when I’m forty-one.”

  When we were younger, there weren’t many fights between the two of us. I could count on one hand the number of times I got so mad at him that I didn’t want anything to do with him. Once we went to the eighth-grade dance together, so I assumed we would attend every dance together. I didn’t think we had to talk about the plans. I thought it was implied that he and I would go together, no matter. I didn’t think that once one of us got a boyfriend or girlfriend, those plans would be out the window. Not until he told me that his mom was taking him and Lucy Van Patten to the Dairy Queen before the back to school dance. He had only been with her for two days. I didn’t talk to Heath for three days. It would have been longer if he hadn’t camped out on my front porch. I tried to call his mom to come get him, but she told me she was strict instructions not to listen to anything I had to say because the one person who I was supposed to be talking to was on my front porch.

  I gently place my head on the door along with the palm of my hand.
I can practically feel the anguish radiating off Heath’s body. “Please,” he croaks.

  I close my eyes, causing the tears to cascade down my face. Running my hand down the door, I flick the lock and pull the door open. The cold air hits my face, causing me to lose my breath, but it’s the man in front of me that all but breaks my heart. Heath’s eyes are red, wet and dull, the gleam that he normally has is no longer there. He stands with his hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped.

  “Whitney,” he whispers. “I–I’m sorry.”

  I step back, without a word, and allow him to enter the condo. He visibly lets out a breath. After I shut the door, I follow him into the living room. He takes a seat on the couch, so I make the decision to distance myself enough from him and take a seat on the chair that’s situation in the opposite side of the room. After I place the pillow in my lap, I give Heath a pointed stare.

  “I printed those out the night of your birthday.”

  His confession makes me flinch, and my grip tightens around the pillow. He rubs his hands down the front of his pants legs.

  “I wasn’t in my right mind,” he continues to explain without looking at me. “Steve came over because you were out with Ruby and your neighbor.” He finally looks at me. His expression is pained, his eyes full of regret, and I feel some sort of triumph at Heath’s pain. It serves him right.

  “I don’t remember printing them. I cracked open the bottle of whiskey that we’ve had in the cupboard–”

  “You’re not helping your case,” I scoffed.

  With his arms resting on his knees, he hangs his head. “I know, Whit, but I’m trying to explain. I was angry. I overreacted, and I’m sorry.” He grabs the back of his neck, squeezing it before he runs his hand down his arm, squeezing his bicep as well. His face flinches as if he’s in pain.