* * *
What he can’t figure out—what plagues him in the dark of the night—is why. Why did she leave? She left him, Drew, her family and friends, all for what?
* * *
He shouldn’t want her back. He should curse her name, hate her photo, lament the day that she ever walked into his life. But he can’t. She owns his heart, her touch imprinted on every ounce of his being, breath in his body, blood in his veins. Without her, he is lost.
CHAPTER 49
I know that Nathan’s act is all for show, our Napa trip proof of that. The tender touches, the kiss on the nape of my neck—it is all for the cameras. For her. The fact that every touch that I swoon over is performed for another woman … it’s heartbreaking. Literally. I can feel my heart expanding, cracking along ridges and junctures, its shell not made to be manipulated, twisted, and toyed with in this manner. It bends, it yields, it cracks. I must do a better job of protecting it. I must push away from this man and focus on what is important. My father. The life I will have after Nathan Dumont.
* * *
But there is another possibility, another option in this game of Life that I am so poorly playing. After all, he is my husband. Maybe it’s time to take off the gloves and pull some hair. I am here with him, she is a memory wrapped in abandonment. I have a fighting chance. I just need to time and properly place my blows.
* * *
We stand in the line at customs, Nathan’s hand casually slid into my back pocket, occasionally tugging me to him for a kiss. I am wearing one of my new outfits, picked without the benefit of an outfit book or numbered hanger. It feels rebellious, choosing my own clothes, the simple act bringing a grin to my face.
* * *
This morning I threw away the notepad, its white surface damning my mind into a catatonic state, unable to create a single word of clarity. Besides, my needs are simple, no need for a physical list.
* * *
Move in. I want to live in the main house, to feel like a member of the marriage rather than a sequestered leper.
* * *
Sleep in his bed. I want his arms around me at night, his breath on the back of my neck, the hard line of his muscles within easy reach.
* * *
Sex. I will not fuck in front of others. Period.
* * *
A job. I’d like to fill my days with something other than waiting, the long drone of expectation too hard on my psyche.
* * *
That is it. Four demands. I’ll ask him on the plane, once we are settled in and away from everyone. I want to have his answer, to have a plan in place, before I step off the plane.
CHAPTER 50
I watch his profile, wishing I was across from him instead of next to him, so I could study his face without being so blatantly obvious.
* * *
“It’s been a good trip.” He stretches his legs out, one reaching into the aisle, and leans back, turning to look at me.
* * *
I nod, a spot of silence beginning, the perfect opening for me to speak. “I’ve been thinking … about our marriage. And whether or not I will stay.”
* * *
“And?”
* * *
“You asked me to make a list of things I would need. There are only a few.”
* * *
He nods, staying silent.
* * *
“I want to live in the main house and sleep in your bed. Out in the guesthouse, by myself, I feel more like an employee of yours, someone you fuck and then disregard. It’s not a situation I want to continue.”
* * *
“And the sleeping? Couldn’t you move inside without spending every night with me?”
* * *
I hesitate. Part of my demand was a negotiation tactic. Ask for more than I need, in hopes that he will settle where I want. I didn’t have to have the nights. But I wanted them, had treasured every second of the last two nights. Plus, if I planned to fight for this man, I would need those evenings as part of the seduction of his heart. “Maybe not every night, but at least two a week.”
* * *
“Before I commit to that, what else is there?”
* * *
A small grin pulls at my mouth. “Sex. You’ll have to keep your controlling habits behind closed doors.”
* * *
He laughs, pulling my hand to his mouth and nipping it slightly. “But I love taking your body before an audience. Love to see them watch you fuck.” His words turn dangerous as he speaks, the light behind his voice turning to sizzling heat, his mouth on my hand a brand that marks me as his.