Page 43 of Sin and Redemption

To be honest, I was glad for any kind of distraction as long as people didn’t pay attention to me. Mom had assured me that talk about Maximus and me had died down, and I didn’t want it to start again.

The music began playing, and a hush fell over the crowd. I turned toward the bride. Greta was gorgeous in her dress, and her limp wasn’t noticeable at all. Maximus had encouraged me to spend time with her now that she would be living in New York, and maybe I would. Her trauma was different from mine, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t bond because of it.

When Greta reached the front, her gaze locked with Amo, and my belly tightened at the sight of their blatant adoration and love for each other. This wasn’t a marriage of convenience. This was pure love. I’d never expected a love marriage, but the marriage Maximus and I currently led was far less than I’d hoped for. It was mostly my fault. I avoided him as much as possible and never joined him when he helped out at the shelter on weekends. He even suggested we could spend time doing other things, but I’d pretended I needed to help Mom with my younger sisters or study for college. Neither was true.

He eventually stopped asking. The only time we spent together was in the morning when we both had coffee and in the evening after Maximus got home. Maybe fifteen minutes altogether every day. Maximus had dinner at work because I told him I ate with my parents and siblings, which wasn’t the case. I simply wasn’t hungry in the evenings.

The last wedding I’d attended had been my own. I didn’t have many happy memories about it.

Witnessing Amo’s and Greta’s interactions throughout the festivities, I felt a deep longing inside me. A longing for a love of my own. I wasn’t delusional; it was highly unlikely that Maximus and I would ever love each other, but I wanted a different kind of love in my life. The love of a child.

Just thinking about my wish made me feel guilty and anxious at the same time. My eyes sought Maximus. He was talking to Matteo. I had spent most of the wedding chatting with Isabella and Aurora.

Would Maximus agree to a baby?

And then another question popped in my head. How would we even do it? Maximus and I didn’t even share a bed. We hadn’t shared any intimacy since we’d married, and the one intimacy we’d shared before was the reason I was anxious to consider being with him on a physical level.

Maximus hadn’t given me any reason to fear him in our marriage, but I knew memories from the past would undoubtedly emerge if I was intimate with him.

Yet I didn’t want to use medical help unless necessary. I wanted this baby to be conceived the natural way. This time, I wanted to do everything right.

Maximus glanced my way. I flushed because I wasn’t sure how long I’d been staring at him. Concern crossed his face. I forced a small smile to assure him I was fine.

From an outsider’s standpoint, Maximus was an attractive man. I didn’t doubt that many women wouldn’t have any problems jumping in bed with him. If I was being honest, I had been attracted to him when he’d picked me up from college before we got kidnapped. But I had never allowed myself to see him that way again—from fear of opening old wounds.

Now I’d have to face those fears if I wanted to become a mother and try to see Maximus as the man I’d been attracted to again and not a memento of our past trauma.

Sara kept throwing glances my way during our weekly shared dinner. I wasn’t sure what the problem was. I finally met her gaze when I couldn’t stand the silence anymore. “What’s going on?”

She flushed. “Nothing.”

I put my fork down and sat back. I was done with this. Our marriage had never been good, but since I’d killed our attackers, it had become disastrous. “The way you’re looking at me is not nothing.”

Was she angry because of how I’d handled the revenge on Jabba and his men? I’d killed another one of the assholes involved in the kidnapping only a couple of weeks ago, but again, Sara’s reaction to the news had been lackluster. “I didn’t think you’d want to be present during the torture. They got what they deserved. Your dad and I made sure of it.”

She grimaced. “I know. You were very busy with revenge.”

“I thought you wanted revenge.”

She stood with a look of disappointment. “You gotyourrevenge. For you, it’s over. But for me, it’s not.” It was obvious she wanted to end the conversation, but I couldn’t take all these unspoken accusations any more. It was slowly killing me.

“I’m here,” I growled as I stepped in her way. “You can do to me whatever you want. Fuck, I can give you an array of tools you can use to torture me and get the revenge you deserve.”

Sara’s eyes brimmed with confusion and shock. She touched her lips with her fingertips, obviously stunned into silence by my words.

“Just say the words. I’m yours. If causing me pain helps you heal, do it. Just fucking do it. Nothing’s worse than this fucking charade of a marriage we’re in.”

She swallowed hard and looked away, her dark brows pulled down in a harsh frown. “I never wanted to cause you pain.” She tried to walk past me again.

“Why not?” I stepped in front of her, so fucking tired of tiptoeing around the elephant in the room. “I hurt you, so now you should hurt me.”

She tilted her head up and met my gaze. It was the first time we really looked each other in the eyes for more than a fleeting moment. Tears shone in her brown eyes. My stomach tightened at the sight. Nothing hit me harder than the sadness in my wife’s eyes. It was the fucking worst torture in the world, so whatever pain Sara wanted to cause me would never measure up to one look from her. “I’m not angry with you.”

Rage flooded me. How could she say that? “What a load of crap. I’m fucking mad at myself, and you have to be too.”

“Don’t tell me what I’m supposed to feel!” she hissed, her face flashing with fury. I straightened in surprise. I’d never seen Sara furious. She was always poised and gentle-minded, the very opposite of me. “Maybe your anger is the problem, but don’t make it out to be my issue. I’m not angry with you.”

“But you can’t stand my presence either,” I accused. Maybe I preferred her anger. It was better than Sara’s usual indifference.

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