'Til Death: Volume Two
Page 36
Jesus.
His hair is slightly damp, falling over his forehead, and he looks . . . amazing. I swallow, adjusting my top, even though it really doesn’t need adjusting. “Ah, hey,” I mumble, trying to look anywhere but at the amazing body facing me. All that bronze, tight skin. All those muscles. All those tattoos.
“Hey,” he murmurs, “Come in.”
I step past him and freeze as I look around. The house hasn’t changed, not a bit, but it still hurts like it did the day I left it. Seeing it again brings it all back. I clench my eyes shut, take a deep steadying breath, and pull myself together. That was then. This is now. I can’t hold on to the past. It won’t do either of us any good.
“Do you want some wine?” he asks as I enter the kitchen.
“Sure.”
He steps past me and lifts the bottle of red off the table. He pours some into a glass and hands it to me before getting himself a beer. We move to the living area and I stare out the massive windows.
“Why are you here, Katia? I know you wouldn’t just come in here without a reason.”
I take a deep breath, a sip of wine, and then turn to him. God damn him for looking so perfect. He doesn’t make this easy.
“We need to talk about this. About us; about Penny.”
He nods shortly, and leans against the wall, accentuating all that he is with that one simple movement.
“I don’t know . . . I don’t know what to do or where to go, but I think for her sake we need to know.”
“I want Penny in my life, Katia, but I’m not going to bring a fight into it. I just want what is best for her.”
My heart aches at his words, purely because he didn’t say he wanted me in his life, and I never thought that would hurt the way it is.
“I want what’s best for her, too,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I want you in her life, Marcus. I just don’t know how we’re going to do that.”
He stares at me, really stares. Then in a low rumble, he says, “I grew up in a fucked up household. My mother, my father, my grandfather, the entire lot of them created the monster that broke your heart. I don’t want that for her. I don’t want her to live every day watching her parents fight.”
“And that’s what you think will happen?” I rasp. “That we’ll fight?”
“Katia,” he says, his voice almost sympathetic. “We didn’t just cheat on each other, or make a small mistake. I fuckin’ broke you and you tried to have me killed. I’m not sure that’s something that can be overlooked.”
My chest constricts, and I manage to say, “So what do you propose?”
“I don’t know right now. All I know is I want my daughter in a happy world.”
“Do you love me, Marcus?”
His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. I watch as he gathers himself, then he says, “Love isn’t enough, Katia. You and I both know that.”
“So that’s it? We separate and put Penny on visitation rights?”
My voice comes out bitter, and I can’t help that. I want to scream, to rip my hair out, to beg. I hate that I feel like that. Marcus broke me. I broke him. We’re a train wreck, and sometimes there just aren’t enough parts in the world to put such a mess back together. I don’t know if he can fix me, and I sure as shit don’t know if I can fix him. He’s right; Penny doesn’t deserve to grow up with parents who resent each other.
Only . . . I don’t resent him. I fucking love him and that’s why this hurts so damned much.
“Katia,” he says in a low, scratchy tone.
I turn. I can’t look at him. I can’t face him. If I do he’ll see the tears. The disappointment. The loss. All of it. All of it, a result of what we created for ourselves. I can never take back what was done and neither can he, but it burns. It fucking burns to my very core. It burns because I want it to be okay. I want him in my life. I want him in hers.
And there’s a good chance that’ll never be.
His fingers curl around my shoulder just as a slow, beautiful song fills the room. I close my eyes, trying to calm myself. His fingers run down my arm, stopping at my hand. He grips it and turns me slowly until I’m facing him. I look up into his eyes and my heart feels as if it’s going to take a leap right out of my chest.
“Don’t think that I wouldn’t fix this if I could.”
If I could.
“But I don’t know if something so toxic can be fixed.”
Toxic.
“If I knew what I know now back then, I would have never let any of this happen. This is on me, Katia. I have to live with not having the family I always wanted because of my selfish, fucked-up heart.”
Family he always wanted.
“You’re fuckin’ precious, Katia. I drove you to consider murder. Do you really believe what we have right here is a healthy, beautiful environment for that little girl?”
I don’t want to admit it. I don’t.
I won’t.
“If that’s what you want,” I whisper, dropping my eyes. “Then it’s settled.”
“Look at me.”
I don’t.
“Katia, fuckin’ look at me.”
I lift my eyes and connect my gaze with his. We stare at each other for so long my legs begin to tremble. I want to say something—I just don’t know what it is I want to say. I agree? I don’t agree? I love you? I fucking hate you? A tear rises up and trickles down my cheek, and he catches it with his thumb before gliding it over my cheek to my bottom lip.
His hair is slightly damp, falling over his forehead, and he looks . . . amazing. I swallow, adjusting my top, even though it really doesn’t need adjusting. “Ah, hey,” I mumble, trying to look anywhere but at the amazing body facing me. All that bronze, tight skin. All those muscles. All those tattoos.
“Hey,” he murmurs, “Come in.”
I step past him and freeze as I look around. The house hasn’t changed, not a bit, but it still hurts like it did the day I left it. Seeing it again brings it all back. I clench my eyes shut, take a deep steadying breath, and pull myself together. That was then. This is now. I can’t hold on to the past. It won’t do either of us any good.
“Do you want some wine?” he asks as I enter the kitchen.
“Sure.”
He steps past me and lifts the bottle of red off the table. He pours some into a glass and hands it to me before getting himself a beer. We move to the living area and I stare out the massive windows.
“Why are you here, Katia? I know you wouldn’t just come in here without a reason.”
I take a deep breath, a sip of wine, and then turn to him. God damn him for looking so perfect. He doesn’t make this easy.
“We need to talk about this. About us; about Penny.”
He nods shortly, and leans against the wall, accentuating all that he is with that one simple movement.
“I don’t know . . . I don’t know what to do or where to go, but I think for her sake we need to know.”
“I want Penny in my life, Katia, but I’m not going to bring a fight into it. I just want what is best for her.”
My heart aches at his words, purely because he didn’t say he wanted me in his life, and I never thought that would hurt the way it is.
“I want what’s best for her, too,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I want you in her life, Marcus. I just don’t know how we’re going to do that.”
He stares at me, really stares. Then in a low rumble, he says, “I grew up in a fucked up household. My mother, my father, my grandfather, the entire lot of them created the monster that broke your heart. I don’t want that for her. I don’t want her to live every day watching her parents fight.”
“And that’s what you think will happen?” I rasp. “That we’ll fight?”
“Katia,” he says, his voice almost sympathetic. “We didn’t just cheat on each other, or make a small mistake. I fuckin’ broke you and you tried to have me killed. I’m not sure that’s something that can be overlooked.”
My chest constricts, and I manage to say, “So what do you propose?”
“I don’t know right now. All I know is I want my daughter in a happy world.”
“Do you love me, Marcus?”
His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. I watch as he gathers himself, then he says, “Love isn’t enough, Katia. You and I both know that.”
“So that’s it? We separate and put Penny on visitation rights?”
My voice comes out bitter, and I can’t help that. I want to scream, to rip my hair out, to beg. I hate that I feel like that. Marcus broke me. I broke him. We’re a train wreck, and sometimes there just aren’t enough parts in the world to put such a mess back together. I don’t know if he can fix me, and I sure as shit don’t know if I can fix him. He’s right; Penny doesn’t deserve to grow up with parents who resent each other.
Only . . . I don’t resent him. I fucking love him and that’s why this hurts so damned much.
“Katia,” he says in a low, scratchy tone.
I turn. I can’t look at him. I can’t face him. If I do he’ll see the tears. The disappointment. The loss. All of it. All of it, a result of what we created for ourselves. I can never take back what was done and neither can he, but it burns. It fucking burns to my very core. It burns because I want it to be okay. I want him in my life. I want him in hers.
And there’s a good chance that’ll never be.
His fingers curl around my shoulder just as a slow, beautiful song fills the room. I close my eyes, trying to calm myself. His fingers run down my arm, stopping at my hand. He grips it and turns me slowly until I’m facing him. I look up into his eyes and my heart feels as if it’s going to take a leap right out of my chest.
“Don’t think that I wouldn’t fix this if I could.”
If I could.
“But I don’t know if something so toxic can be fixed.”
Toxic.
“If I knew what I know now back then, I would have never let any of this happen. This is on me, Katia. I have to live with not having the family I always wanted because of my selfish, fucked-up heart.”
Family he always wanted.
“You’re fuckin’ precious, Katia. I drove you to consider murder. Do you really believe what we have right here is a healthy, beautiful environment for that little girl?”
I don’t want to admit it. I don’t.
I won’t.
“If that’s what you want,” I whisper, dropping my eyes. “Then it’s settled.”
“Look at me.”
I don’t.
“Katia, fuckin’ look at me.”
I lift my eyes and connect my gaze with his. We stare at each other for so long my legs begin to tremble. I want to say something—I just don’t know what it is I want to say. I agree? I don’t agree? I love you? I fucking hate you? A tear rises up and trickles down my cheek, and he catches it with his thumb before gliding it over my cheek to my bottom lip.
