Page 108 of Fame And Secrets

Glancing up the stairs, I felt empty. My arms were empty. They ached to hold my baby. They ached to hold my husband. But one had been taken from me and the other didn’t want me. My gaze was pulled toward the door to our bedroom once more.

I had to try.

To my surprise, the door wasn’t locked. It pushed open with ease as I timidly walked in. Julian was on the furthest end of the bed, lying on his side with his back to me. Just by his erratic breathing, I knew he was awake. I’d slept curled around the man enough times to know the rhythmic sound of his sleep.

Quietly, I knelt, first one leg, then the other beside him. He didn’t move, so I sat down and placed a shaking hand on his shoulder. Whenever I felt lost, Julian could always bring me back to safety. I’d been floundering, because he’d left me out to sea with no net. Together we were invincible. If he shut me out now, I didn’t know what I’d become.

I trembled as I waited for a response, swallowing dryly as seconds ticked by. A muffled cry caught in my throat, and I started to pull my hand away. As my fingers scraped his skin, his hand reached across his chest and grabbed my fingers. With a strangled sigh of relief, tears spilled down my cheeks as he slowly rolled over, his eyes shadowed in the dark.

I didn’t care. I felt him.

Both hands lifted and tangled in my hair, a move that reminded me of our early days. His thumbs brushed across my cheeks, spreading my salty tears into my skin. I closed my eyes to soak in the moment. It meant everything. It was us. Whatever happened after this moment, I knew in his touch, I could still feel his love.

That was where the moment ended.

Tightening his fingers in my hair, he pulled me against him, fusing our mouths together in a punishing kiss. I tried to speak, but he covered my mouth tighter and dove in harder. Within seconds, he had me under him, his fingers hooked in my shorts, dragging them down my thighs. Clad only in a pair of boxers, a simple jerk of the wrist and he had them off and on the floor.

I came to him for comfort, but I allowed it to happen. Julian wasn’t a monster. I knew in my heart if I’d said no, he would’ve stopped. I wasn’t scared of him. The need to be in his arms, to find the peace we always had when we made love, outweighed the negative voices in my head.

Julian’s mouth was everywhere and anywhere, and it wasn’t gentle.

I wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t making love to me. He wasn’t even fucking me. He was using me to release his pent-up emotions.

When it was over, he dragged his forehead across my chest, and I held my breath. Usually, he settled in beside me and held me against him so tightly I couldn’t breathe. Instead, he muttered something incoherently under his breath and pushed off me.

I released the breath I’d been holding.

He sat up with his back to me and lowered his head, his elbows balanced on his knees. At a loss for words, I hesitated before reaching out to him. After what just happened, words were failing me, but I knew we’d come to a pivotal moment. Whatever happened next could determine if Julian and I made it, or crashed and burned.

I chewed my cheek as I touched his back. “Julian?”

This time he flinched.

He had something white balled up in his right hand. As my mind cleared, I remembered him holding it as he’d grabbed my hand when I first came in the bedroom.

Had he held it the whole time we were together?

“Julian?” I called to him again.

This time he stood, the moonlight highlighting his naked body. “I’m sorry.”

I didn’t think my mouth could get any drier. “For what?”

“That shouldn’t have happened.”

“I wanted it to.”

He bowed his head. “Still, it was wrong.”

A knife to the heart would’ve hurt less. “What’s happening to us, Julian?” Even through my blurred vision, I could see the pain etched on his face. His hand flexed around the white cloth then released it, letting it fall to the floor.

“I’ll sleep in the guest room”

I watched him as he stumbled out of the room and slammed the door. Minutes turned into hours before I gathered the strength to pick up the cloth he’d been holding. I smoothed it out on the bed and turned on the lamp on the nightstand. As the room illuminated, a cry gurgled from my throat, and I backed away from it.

Shining against the light of the lamp was a tiny white onesie with the words ‘Daddy’s Little Girl’ written in pink cursive glitter across the front.

Huddled against the headboard, I cried for everything we’d lost.

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