“I hate to end our conversation, but I need to get back up to my room,” he said with obvious reluctance. “I have to be up before the sun rises in the morning.”
“Thankfully, I don’t have to be up that early. My husband was smart when he booked our honeymoon flights to St. Lucia. We don’t leave until Monday morning so I can sleep all day tomorrow if I want to. What’s dragging you out of bed so early?”
“My flight. Apparently, I wasn’t as smart as your husband when I booked it,” he joked. “I’m only here for the weekend. I’m headed home in the morning.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. And damn… if that wasn’t the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, I didn’t know what was. Now that he was standing, I was able to take in the full height of him. I estimated him to be a couple inches over six feet tall and he was built—very built. His thick biceps grabbed my attention and I didn’t know how I’d missed them earlier. His black t-shirt stretched wide across his chest and I could easily make out very defined pectoral muscles. When my gaze traveled down to his narrow hips, I froze.
What am I doing? I should be dancing with my husband. Not out here gawking over a man I just met.
Despite the internal lecture my brain gave me, I was clearly a glutton for punishment. Instead of letting him walk away like he should have, I compulsively asked an open-ended question that would further our conversation.
“Were you here visiting family? Or was it something else?”
“No family. I was here this weekend on business. I had to meet with a silent partner about a business I’m starting.”
“Oh, well that sounds fun. What’s your business?”
Another question.
I had undoubtedly lost my mind.
“Fitness.”
Of course it is.
“Interesting,” was my only reply. I was afraid to say more and risk embarrassing myself by saying anything inappropriate. I really needed to get back inside.
“Yeah. I was tired of working for others and wanted to branch out on my own. In a few months, I’ll be opening my own gym and training facility. A friend of mine agreed to help finance it and we met this afternoon to finalize the contract. I will admit though, it’s scary as hell. Working for a gym is one thing but owning one yourself is a risk. I already have an established client base and expertise needed, but the market is competitive. I know I can do this, but for the first time in my life, I’m afraid of failure.”
His raw vulnerability was unexpected and wasn’t something I was used to. Ethan was always so confident and never second guessed going after what he wanted. Yet here this man stood, telling a woman he barely knew about his fears. I found his honesty endearing.
“I’m sure you’ll do just fine. In fact—”
The slam of a door cut off my words and caused me to jump. I looked toward the sound. Ethan was striding toward me looking frantic.
“What are you doing out here? I was looking all—” he stopped short when he saw I wasn’t alone. Something flashed in his eyes but I couldn’t quite place it. Anger? Jealousy? Whatever it was, he masked it quickly and reached out to take my hand. “Come back to the reception, honey. Our guests will be missing you.”
I stood and slipped my arm through Ethan’s. He pulled me close to him in a possessive sort of way and I could feel the hard tension in his muscles. I looked back at the man who had kept me company for the last thirty minutes. I realized then that I didn’t even know his name. When I think about it, I never told him mine either.
“It was nice chatting with you,” I said.
“Likewise. And congratulations again—to both of you.”
“Thank you,” Ethan responded tersely, then coaxed me back toward the door to the hotel. Once we were inside, I felt his stiff body relax slightly. “Don’t do that again, okay?”
“Do what?”
“Disappear on me. I didn’t know where you were. When I found you…” He trailed off and raked a hand through his hair. “It didn’t look good, Gia. You’re my wife dammit! My fucking wife. How would you feel if you saw me talking to another woman like that on our wedding day? I saw the way he was looking at you and you let him do it. I should have pummeled him for having the balls to even talk to you—a woman who is clearly another man’s bride. For fuck sake, Gia! You’re still in your wedding dress!”
His sudden outburst shocked me but he was right. It didn’t matter that I didn’t do anything wrong or that it was just innocent conversation. Guilt took over my rationale, knowing that no matter how innocent things appeared on the outside, there was no denying the flicker of something between me and the stranger. And that was not okay. My guilt didn’t come from the words I’d exchanged with him, but from how I felt for even the briefest of moments.
Ethan, the man I loved with my whole heart, stared at me with accusing eyes on our wedding day. A wave of shame came over me. That was on me and I had to make it right.
“I just stepped out for some air, Ethan. I’m sorry. Honestly, I don’t even know the guy’s name. It was just—ouch!” I looked down at his hand wrapped around my arm. He was squeezing me so tight, I was sure he would leave a mark. “That hurts! Let go—”
“Not again,” he repeated sharply, his stern interruption slicing through the air like a thousand knives.
I was no stranger to violence. I had seen it before with my mother and father. I was barely five years old when my father finally left for good, but there was one thing I’d never forget: volatile, unhinged madness in the eyes of the abuser. In that moment, I saw that same look in the eyes of my husband. At first, my instinct was to run. But as fast as the look in his eyes had appeared, the madness was gone. It was as if I had imagined it.
“Not again. I promise,” I whispered.
“Good. Now, no more fighting.” He let go of my arms and softly stroked my cheek with a fingertip. Moving to touch my ear, he frowned. “You’re missing an earring.”
“I am?” I automatically reached up to touch my ears and glanced around on the floor. When I didn’t see it, I glanced toward the door to the courtyard. “Maybe I lost it outside.”
Ethan’s eyes darkened again and a shiver raced down my spine.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s only junk costume jewelry anyway. Leave it. We need to get back to the party. We’re being rude to the guests.”
Shaking off my fears, I allowed my husband to take my hand and lead me back to the reception.
3
Part 3: Survival of the Fittest
Indian Hill, Ohio
Two Years Later
Of all the reasons a woman could miss her period, I prayed this wasn’t the most common one. Yet here I sat on the bathroom toilet, my entire future in the hands of a little, plastic stick. I opened my legs and raised the urine-stained stick to eye level. The gray moisture line moved across the little window until one pink line appeared. I held my breath and watched as a second line appeared.
I was going to be a mother.
Absently bringing my hand to touch my stomach, I blinked back the tears beginning to form in my eyes. I didn’t know if I should be happy or sad about the results. My stomach roiled and it wasn’t because I was pregnant. It was because I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.
Ethan and I barely had sex at all over the past few months. In fact, it was only twice. We were still considered newlyweds by some standards, yet both times we were intimate was because I’d practically thrown myself at my husband. Family planning hadn’t really been discussed, outside of the occasion ‘when we have kids’ comment here or there. I wasn’t on any birth control, but Ethan almost always used a condom—almost being the keyword. I thought back to the last time we had sex. I couldn’t remember if he used one. The churning ball of anxiety intensified. Pregnancy meant I was going to continue to be dependent on Ethan; that I wouldn’t have the chance to go back to school and fulfill my career dreams. However, deep down I knew it was so much more than that. College and a job, while
still very much important to me, were the least of my concerns at that moment.
A year ago, I might have been ecstatic about a baby. But things had changed—Ethan had changed. He hadn’t been himself for over a year and I didn’t know what was wrong. I had asked him about it several times, worried I’d done something to upset him, but he insisted everything was fine. He said it was just work stress. When I pressed him to tell me about it, he told me he couldn’t talk about ongoing investigations in the department.
Still, while I knew he couldn’t talk about certain aspects of his job, my insecurities had been working overtime as of late. More than once, I’d considered the possibility that there might be another woman. My heart didn’t want to believe that, but my suspicions had become all-consuming. Perhaps it was my hormones going haywire—I was pregnant after all. Maybe the changes in my body were making me paranoid for no reason at all. I knew Ethan loved me as much as I loved him.
So then why was I afraid to tell him about the baby?
I ignored the thought and stood up. With a shaking hand, I placed the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter, turned on the faucet and splashed cold water over my face. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I did a practice smile.
Happy—I needed to be happy when I tell him.
When we spoke over dinner, Ethan seemed distracted. I assumed it was because of something to do with work again. He frequently came home agitated from the stress of his job and it was something I’d just grown accustomed too. My only hope was that news of a baby on the way would brighten his sour mood. It might even rekindle something that was lost between us.
I exited the bathroom to find him on the sofa leaning over to tie his shoes. I frowned. He’d pulled a twelve-hour shift and had barely been home for two hours. He couldn’t possibly be leaving again.
“Are you going somewhere?” I asked.
“Yeah, honey. Work,” he responded in that dismissive tone he often took with me whenever I asked him where he was going.
“Oh. I was hoping we could talk,” I said softly.
“Now’s not a good time. And by the way. I’m not going to ask you again. You need to remember to put the toothpaste away in the bathroom drawer. You always leave it on the counter and I’m sick of having to put it away.”
My eyes widened in surprise. Clearly, the mood he displayed over dinner hadn’t improved. And now he had to go to work—again. Or so he said. We needed to talk about what was going on between us, or lack thereof, and I needed to know if this fear I felt about his possible infidelity was all in my head.
He stood and began to walk toward the front door. I hurried to catch up with him.
“Ethan,” I pleaded, placing my hand on his shoulder. He pushed it away forcefully and I staggered a few steps back, my knee smacking against the hard, oak end table.
“Ouch!” The pain stung, but I ignored it. “Ethan, stop. Please. Where are you really going? I need the truth.”
He turned to face me. His impatience was evident as he ran his eyes over me unsympathetically.
“What truth?”
Tears burned the backs of my eyes but I refused to let them fell.
“I don’t think you’re going to work. I’ve been able to hear your police scanner most of the evening. It’s been quiet.”
He glanced behind me at the little black box sitting on the end table next to the sofa. Taking a few steps toward it, he reached down to silence the quiet chatter between dispatch and patrol. Then he walked over to me and placed a placating hand on my shoulder.
“Honey, don’t try to be smart. It doesn’t suit you,” he said in a cajoling way, as if I were a child he needed to appease. My head snapped back from the insult.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I challenged. “Listening to the scanner, then putting two and two together isn’t exactly rocket science.”
The subtle grin that twisted the corners of his mouth was condescending—mocking almost. I wanted to scream. Instead, I shrugged out of his grasp and turned my back to him. The man standing behind me felt more like a stranger every single day. I wanted him to be the man I married; the man I fell in love with and who brought me daisies. I wanted to feel cherished again. The idea of Ethan cherishing anything or anyone other than himself made me pause and think back on our relationship.
Had I ever felt truly cherished with him?
Not really. If I were honest with myself, I had never felt truly respected or valued. Ethan had always just dotted on me in a placating sort of way—like a child who was given a present for behaving.
I felt his hand come up to touch my shoulder. It was strange. A part of me longed for that gentle touch, but another part of me want to recoil from the contact.
“Come on now, Gia. Don’t get yourself all worked up over nothing. You know I’m the brains in the house. We both know that.”
My eyes widened and I spun to face him once again.
“You’re the brains? Why? Because you have an expensive college degree and I don’t?” I snapped. “I wanted to go to college! You pushed me into the role of the police chief’s wife; had me on your arm for various functions and photo ops. You convinced me of the demands and talked me into staying home to take care of the house! Don’t you dare try to make me feel insignificant. I did exactly as you asked me to do!”
Saying the words aloud made me realize something. I had become a kept woman—the very thing I once told a stranger I didn’t want to be. I pushed away the memories of a conversation from years long past and took a deep breath, feeling unsure over whether I was overreacting. My lack of a college degree had always been a sore spot for me. It was something I yearned for—a longing deep in my belly that always seemed out of reach.
“Honey, you aren’t insignificant. You do a good job. The house looks great. Well, most of the time,” he added.
I stared at him and processed the negging comment. That was just his way—backhanded compliments that never ceased to make my confidence waver and make me worry over whether I was a good wife. I was tired of being spoken to that way; tired of being made to feel that way. Still, I was too exhausted to fight and we’d been doing so much of that lately. Sometimes letting him leave to wherever it was he went in the evenings was just easier.
Tonight, while I processed the implications of being pregnant, was one of those nights. If he had to go, then fine. Arguing with Ethan rarely got me anywhere and I’d learned to pick my battles long ago. Besides, if there was one thing I knew about being the wife of a police officer, it was that life was short. You never knew what could happen in the line of duty. If something had happened to him while we were on the outs, I’d never forgive myself.
Glancing down at the black sport coat he’d tossed over the arm of the sofa, I picked it up and moved to hand it to him. I intended on apologizing for losing my temper but stopped short when a whiff of sweet-smelling perfume filled my nose. Raising the jacket to my face, I inhaled.
Roses.
It smelled like vanilla and roses.
I crinkled my nose in disgust. It certainly wasn’t any perfume I would wear. When my eyes found his, there was curious expression on his face. It was like he knew what I was thinking before I even said it.
“Don’t go there, Gia. Just don’t,” he warned.
All the emotions from the past year seemed to well up inside me. I was always so quick to roll over—to be the peacemaker. And for what? Didn’t I deserve better?
I felt something inside me snap. I wouldn’t be dismissed anymore. He needed to stop treating me as nothing more than an afterthought. I was pregnant and we should be celebrating together as husband and wife. I was owed an explanation for why he’d turned so cold—for why his jacket smelled like another woman. Unable to hold back the hurt any longer, I exploded. The questions and demands poured from my mouth before I could even think twice about it.
“Don’t go where? Don’t go after the truth? Tell me now, damn you! Who is she?”
He shook his head, almost
as if he were resigning himself to the situation. When he fixed his eyes on me, his expression was as hard and cold as granite.
“She’s an attorney—a prosecutor for the City of Cincinnati. Her name is Cynthia. There. Are you happy now?”
My eyes widened, unable to believe what I was hearing. I wanted him to deny it. No—I believed he would deny it. I thought he would tell me I was imagining things. Never did I expect him to admit it the very first time I asked. The sport coat slipped from my fingers and fell into a crumpled heap on the floor. Instinctively, I dropped my arms to my sides and balled my hands into fists. White-hot fury burned deep in my belly.
“No, I’m not happy!” I hissed through gritted teeth.
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you then. You asked for the truth and against my better judgement, I gave it to you.” He shrugged as if it were no big deal.
“How could you do this to me?” I asked, my voice cracking as it raised to a dangerously high pitch.
“There are things I need,” he said calmly. “Cynthia gives them to me.”
I brought a hand to my mouth and shook my head. Angry tears stung my eyes and I blinked them back.
“You bastard! I love you! I’m your wife and I deserve better than this!” I pointed my finger and jabbed him hard in the shoulder. Without warning, he grabbed my wrist and twisted it back so far, I yelped in pain. His dark brown eyes darkened until they were almost black.
“I don’t understand what you want from me, Gia. I’ve given you everything. You’ve got the house you wanted, money to spend, and a closet full of brand-new clothes that you barely wear. Most women would love to be in your position.”
I didn’t dare tell him that I didn’t want all the clothes. They were clothes he’d picked out for me and weren’t even my style. Instead, I jerked my hand away and stepped back.
“Do you know what I want, Ethan? I want a husband—a real husband. I want someone who wants me to be his equal partner. I want to be truly loved. Cherished. I don’t want some lying, cheating son of a bitch! And that’s exactly what you are!”
Leave Me Breathless: The Black Rose Collection Page 31
