Page 87 of Breathe Again

I locked my feelings down as best I could. “I’m doing okay. Working hard at my therapy, you know…”

“How are things with Zale?”

“Well, there’s not much chance of anyone walking in on us.” I winced. I hadn’t meant to say anything.

“You guys are having problems?”

Shame barreled in. I wanted Zale to want me the way Rhys wanted Rebecca, but that wasn’t for the likes of me. I didn’t think I was the type to elicit those feelings in a man. I was missing that fundamental something, that elusive element that women like Bex had. I told myself I should be grateful for what I had, but my failures shamed me.

“I can’t talk about this,” I muttered, not wanting anyone to overhear my shame, not wanting Rebecca to know my husband didn’t want me. The bubbles of happiness popped and the morning star in my chest grew heavy and wicked sharp.

She squeezed my hand, and her sympathy pierced my heart. I didn’t want it. Not for that. I so desperately wanted to be beautiful. Wanted. Pursued. Treasured.

She changed the subject, and we were soon laughing again, exchanging silly stories, remembering things from our shared past, and then we played with Olivia.

When the pool emptied, I peeled the tail off of Olivia under the water, leaving her in just her swimsuit. I gathered Olivia’s towels to be ready for her as soon as she got out. I wrapped her up and settled her on the bench to dry off and stay warm. Once the towels absorbed most of the excess water, she could handle the changing room. We’d both shower at home. I preferred to shower the chlorine off right away, but she couldn’t tolerate the echoing of the changeroom.

She was wrung out when we got home, especially after her warm bath. I made her macaroni and cheese and put on her movie while I took a long, hot shower. I didn’t allow my thoughts to go to Zale and his rejection of me. I scrubbed my skin with my loofah until it stung, quickly dried and dressed, threw my long hair up in a ponytail, and snuggled into the blanket nest with Olivia until the end of her movie. Then we finished her schoolwork for the day.

That night, Zale slipped into bed beside me, leaned over and snatched the book out of my hands.

“Hey!” I snapped. “I’m reading that!”

He pushed his arm under my lower back and pulled me down the bed, covering me with his big, warm body, his elbows on either side of my head, his hands gentle in my hair. I turned my face to the side and closed my eyes, not wanting him to see my broken heart.

“Mara, look at me, baby.”

I shook my head. He squeezed my head lightly. “Look at me.”

I opened my eyes to find him right there, looking at me, love and concern etched onto his handsome, serious, face.

“I love you, baby, you’ve got to start believing that.”

I tried to close my eyes and turn to the side, but he didn’t let me turn my head. “Look at me,” he hissed. “I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you!”

A tear slipped past my defenses, and he caught it with his thumb. “I’m not wantable.”

“What?” he snorted in disbelief. “Did that man at the bar not want you?”

“He thought I was easy.”

Zale’s face darkened and his voice rumbled out like thunder. “What the fuck did he say to you?”

My eyes widened. “Nothing, he just asked me to have a drink with him.”

“So why would you think he thought you’d be easy?”

The words locked in my throat. My eyes overflowed.

“Look at me,” I whispered.

“I’m looking,” he whispered back. “I don’t think I see what you see.”

He pressed his lips to mine, a soft kiss, a sweet and tender closed-mouthed brushing of lips. Testing his welcome, stirring my response.

I tried not to respond. I tried not to feel. I wanted to stay numb. Numb offered its own reprieve. I felt him growing hard against my hip and I moaned against his lips even as I opened my legs to invite him in.

He pressed his erection against me, eliciting another hungry moan. “Does this feel like you’re not wantable?”

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