Page 139 of Breathe Again

“I won’t touch you, Mara, but I want you beside me.”

I tried to argue but he wouldn’t budge.

We lay side by side, I placed my hand on the bed between us, he reached for it and enclosed it in his, turned on our playlist, and I slept.

Zale

His misplaced anger with Rhys had cooled. It wasn’t Rhys’s fault that his wife had lost her faith in him, that was on him. The fact remained, she did not trust his feelings, and she did not believe. He couldn’t count how many times she’d confessed to him over the years that she wished he’d been the one chasing her, instead of her chasing him.

Back when they started, he played it cool, and it had worked out for him the way he’d wanted it to. She was hooked. He’d told her over and over that if she hadn’t chased him, he would have run her to ground, and that he was happy, happy that she was his, as that had been his intention all along.

He didn’t realize until this moment just how lucky he’d been that he didn’t have to chase her down and convince her to be his.

It wasn’t fun.

He woke early on Sunday morning to find her hugging her side of the bed. This was so far from usual it underlined for him how far they’d fallen.

When hurt she would withdraw. From experience, he knew she would spiral further up and further out, and it would be up to him to close the distance between them before her skewed thoughts carried her too far away.

He rolled to her side and curled his body around her back. She pushed back against him in her sleep, wiggling her bottom into his lap and pressing her back against his chest. He wrapped her up and felt rather than heard the deep breath she took in her sleep as her body went limp in his arms.

She was still sleeping hours later when he saw Olivia poke her head into their room. She gave him a little wave and he placed his finger over his lips to tell her to be quiet. She waited in the doorway, watching as he eased away from Mara, tucking his pillow against her back, and covering her with blankets still warm from his body.

Gently closing the door, he smiled at Olivia as they headed to the kitchen.

“Breakfast?’

“Yes, Daddy. I’ll make you my super incredible peanut butter sandwiches.”

“Sounds good, sweetheart. I’m making coffee, do you want hot chocolate?”

She thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Do chocolate and peanut butter go together?”

“Do chocolate and peanut butter go together?” he asked incredulously. “Have you never had a Reese’s peanut butter cup?”

“No. Is that a chocolate?”

“It is. We need to rectify this situation. I’ll buy you one later today and you can tell me what you think.”

“What if I don’t like it?”

“I’ll buy you a Caramilk, too.”

He watched the wheels turn in her head. She turned her big brown eyes, as luminescent as her mother’s, on him, asking, “What if I do like it? Can I eat them both?”

He laughed. “Absolutely.”

After breakfast, Olivia headed off to shower, and he returned to Mara. He eased the bedroom door open to find her lying on her side in the same position he left her, staring into space. She didn’t bother to acknowledge him.

“Mara? How’re you doing, baby?”

She sighed. “I’m okay.”

“You don’t seem okay.”

He sat on the side of the bed, his hand on her hip and she flinched. He thought for a moment to move his hand, but every instinct he had told him to leave it there.

He squeezed, whispered, “My favorite part.”

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