As always, we’d fallen into a comfortable pattern working together, and by evening we were so tired it didn’t take much convincing for Cassie to get us to dinner.
The dining room looked the same as all the other times with one key thing missing.
Patricia’s place setting and presence.
It was a wound that still bled, and conversation stuck safely on subjects of the farm.
Adam had returned to his wife and two children, and Liam had stayed in town with his girlfriend. So it was just the four of us, and John kept looking at where Patricia would sit, and Cassie kept looking at her father.
Once our meal was finished, I stood with renewed purpose, ready to tackle my concerns with Ren, but John asked for Ren’s opinion on a new grass seed, and Cassie dragged me to her room where I learned yet more about her on and off again relationship with Chip the accountant.
From proposals to pregnancies to births and break-ups, I saw how much she cared for him and how glad she was they were giving it another chance.
The entire time she spoke, all I could think about was Ren. How he’d never once let me down, even when things weren’t perfect between us. How he’d always put me first, even when we’d had nothing to our names.
And how, here in a place that meant so much to both of us, everything that we’d created had been threatened, all because the past dared mingle with our present, making me wonder and worry.
And so, I’d had a third glass of wine before bolting from the farmhouse and cutting across the driveway—the same driveway I’d run across so many times before—and paced our bedroom, needing to end whatever distance was between us.
I missed him.
I missed him more than I could stand.
For twenty minutes, I’d paced before resorting to sitting on the beds.
I’d been waiting for an hour.
Waiting for a way to stop feeling so lost and alone and cast aside.
The door opened fifteen minutes later, swinging wide as Ren prowled in with a hand buried in his hair as if already stressed about sleeping in a room with me.
“You’re back.”
My voice wrenched his eyes up, squinting in the dark. I hadn’t bothered to turn on a light as dusk steadily became night. I knew I seemed creepy, sitting cross-legged, hands tightly linked in my lap, my heart terrified and temper fuming, but I couldn’t help it.
I’d reached my limit and we needed to talk.
“Della, what the hell are you doing?” Ren flicked on the overhead light, shutting the door behind him. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Okay.” He frowned. “I’m here.”
“You are.” Unravelling my legs, I hopped off the bed and moved toward him. “A week ago, you refused to kiss me. Since then, you’ve barely touched me. I feel like you’re avoiding discussing—”
“I haven’t been avoiding anything.” He straightened. “And I have touched you. We fall asleep touching every night. Plus, you know why we haven’t talked—there just hasn’t been the right time.”
“Now is the right time.”
He sighed. “Look, you’re tired, I’m tired. Let’s wait until morning so we don’t say things we might regre—” A cough interrupted him.
My heart grew hot with dismay. “See? There you go again. Avoiding this. What are you so afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid of anything.” His nostrils flared. “I think you’ve wound yourself up and should calm down before—”
“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m not a child anymore, Ren. You can’t command me and expect me to obey.” Storming toward him, I stood on my tiptoes and slammed my lips to his.
I wanted to fight.
The frightened part of me needed it.
His mouth yielded to mine for just a second before he pulled back…just like before.
My heart cracked.
“Della. Stop.” He had the audacity to raise his hand and wipe his mouth as if what I’d done wasn’t permitted. As if the past two years of countless sex, endless kisses, and numerous I love you’s had never happened.
For a second, I wanted to run.
Another second, I wanted to hit him.
And then, in a final second, I nodded, accepted my hurt, and prepared to fight for what was mine.
“I won’t let you do this.” Stepping into him, I grasped his belt, tugging quickly at the leather. “I miss you, Ren. I want you. I’m worried about you and feel like you’re not—”
“Della…” He tripped backward as I worked on unbuckling him, crossing the small room until his back smashed against the door, and I trapped him. “Della—”
I didn’t stop until I unthreaded the leather and yanked the buckle free, discarding both ends the instant they were undone. “Don’t ‘Della’ me. You know what you’re doing, and it isn’t fair.” My fingers attacked his button then reached for his zipper in record time.