Page 21 of Ruthless Love

"How many?" The young hostess asks, her eyes traveling up and down Cain's body.

"Two." I raise my eyebrows at her. He's a good looking guy, and it's not as if I'm not used to it, but not so blatantly. "If we could get a booth in the back, that would be great."

She nods. "Come on this way."

Cain leads me through, his hand trailing behind him with his fingers gripping mine. Even in high school, he wasn't a PDA person, there wasn't any touchy/feely business in front of anyone. I needed that, and it was a big argument in our first few years of marriage. I'd be blind not to see the way he's changing, or is trying to change for me. It's what I've wanted, and I need to stop comparing him to the man I thought I knew. It's becoming glaringly obvious that neither one of us knew the other in the way we thought we did. When we get to the booth, he motions for me to sit on the left side, and I assume he's going to sit on the right, but as I scoot in, he takes the spot next to me.

"Same side sitters?" I question.

"Something else we never did, but I'd like to try."

My eyes meet his, and the smile that slips across my face is one of pure joy.

SIXTEEN

CAIN

We've never sat nextto each other before. Not because I didn't want to be close to her, I always wanted that, but because I was afraid to mention my needs before, I didn't ask for it. I'm closer to her than I've ever been after the past few days, and I need her to know. I scoot over so that our thighs and knees are touching.

"What looks good?"

Neither one of us should have to look at the menu. We've eaten here a thousand times since we started dating in high school.

"You." She quips, a saucy smile on her face.

I'm not a blusher, but that look and what it says makes my face red. The heat is enough to cause me to dip my chin into my chest. "Why weren't we like this six months ago?" I question, desperately needing to know the answer.

She reaches over and grabs my hand. "Because we were complacent, we were taking each other for granted, and neither one of us knew how to open the lines of communication. That's why I did what I did, not to hurt you, because it killed me. One of us had to make a move, and that's why I did it. Either we were going to break up, or we were going to figure out how to makethis work, Cain. I wanted us to figure it out, and I hope that's where we are."

I drop her hand before cupping her cheek in my palm and moving it up to the nape of her neck, and dragging my fingers through her hair. Once it's there, I grasp the strands and pull them back so that her gaze is meeting mine head on. "I want you to promise me this," I start. "We've said sorry for everything we've done to each other, and if we keep apologizing, we're never gonna move forward. It's okay to talk about what we want and what we need in this marriage, but the apologies for what happened before? They need to stop. Do you agree?"

"I do," she answers, leaning in to kiss me, a smile on her face.

This kiss is just this side of in control, and only because we're out in public and I'm an officer of the law. Pulling back, I give her slight pecks as I bring the kiss down from the heights of passion, to what is acceptable in public. Before I can say anything else, our favorite waitress from our previous thousand trips, Melissa, comes over, a big grin on her face.

"I haven't seen you all together in a while. I'm so glad you're here. What can I get you?"

"Yeah, we've been otherwise occupied, but you can expect us to come in a little more frequently."

"Good, I remember what y'all used to eat. Do you want the regular?"

"I do." My stomach growls as I remember what the chicken fried steak tastes like. I haven't had it in so long, my mouth is watering.

"Yes, please." Marissa speaks up.

"Coming right up. I'll have your drinks over here in a few."

My wife and I look at one another. "I'm excited for this." She grins, wrinkling her nose. "I didn't want to come here without you, because it was always kind of our place."

"Same. So, what are your plans after dinner?" I don't want her to think I assume we're going to do anything other than this right now.

Her hand runs up my thigh in a comforting gesture. "Do you mind if we head over to the house? I miss it."

And goddamn, I've missed having her in it. There have been nights I've sat on the couch, thinking about how different my life would be if she were. Especially when I was in my shame spiral after she left. I was depressed for weeks while I was in the house by myself until I snapped out of it. "I would love to go to the house. It's missed you."

For the first time in months, I'm at peace, content with where we are.

"Nothing much has changed,"I say as we walk through the backdoor of our home, flipping on the light. I try to look at the kitchen through her eyes. Has it changed much? I can't really remember.

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