Page 112 of A Love That Broke Us
I shake the thought off.No. I can’t try that for the first time on a night out with people. I haven’t touched coke since college. I hardly remember what it’s like.
But I do remember it was fun—gave me confidence. Made me feel like I could take on the world. It also used to make me horny. And Christ, what I’d give to want to fuck my wife tonight. She’d probably appreciate that too.
It’s not that I don’t want to, I do. When we have sex, I enjoy it. I just… I don’t think about it like I used to. I don’t care if we don’t. And sometimes, when we do, it’s harder to get there. Harder to get hard—or stay that way.
Alley walks into the closet wearing jeans and a fitted bodysuit—thin straps, tits out. She looks hot. I wait for something to happen down below, but…
Nothing.
Yeah, we can’t be having that. I’m not some fucking old man. I miss that part of us. I miss her. I know I’ve failed her in more ways than I can count, but I haven’t even been man enough to make her feel like a woman—desired.
And if there’s one thing Alley is, it’s desirable.
I can’t keep showing up like this—dull, tired, and limp. Fuck no. I want her to have fun. Feel sexy. Laugh. But mostly, I want her to come home with me tonight because she wants to, not because she’s my wife. Not because she has to. I want her to want to. And I want to want her again.
She gives me a half-smile—her attempt at pretending she’s excited to go out with me.
But she’s not. Not anymore.
“You look good,” she says as she slips on her shoes.
“You look good too, babe.” My eyes rake down her body.Jesus. Where the hell have I been?I’ve got this beautiful woman right in front of me, and we haven’t had sex in what, a month?
She mumbles a thank you but doesn’t look at me. She moves to her jewelry, and my heart aches at what we’ve become. What I’ve become.
Because this thing? It has nothing to do with her. She’s still here. She didn’t change. She’s still perfect.
Except she has changed.She’s quiet. Distant. And fuck, she looks sad all the time. And it’s all because of me. I did this.
And that truth? It fucking stings.
“Hey,” I say, reaching for her hand, gripping it tight. “Come here.” I pull her to me, my hands sliding around her waist. “You look really beautiful.”
Her eyes meet mine, searching, glistening with unshed tears.
I kiss her. Soft. Tender. She kisses me back—hesitant at first, then urgent—desperate. Like she’s trying to find me in my mouth.Her hands slide up my chest, one wrapping around the back of my neck.
She pulls back suddenly, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I miss you,” she says, and it’s like a knife to the chest—rips my fucking heart out.
“I’m right here,” I whisper, sucking her lip back into my mouth. Her tongue strokes mine, her mouth crushing harder against mine. It’s hot as hell, and my dick jerks in response. I wait for it to get fully hard. But it doesn’t.
I kiss her anyway. I can feel how much she needs this, maybe even more than I do. My hand glides upward, sweeping across her tit, my thumb circling her nipple.
I grin against her mouth. “No bra?”
“I hoped you’d notice,” she says, reaching for me.
I flinch, pulling back, but it’s too late. Her hand finds my cock—half-limp. A pathetic excuse for even a chub.
She presses her lips together. The sound she makes is part scoff, part laugh—biting, humiliated, disappointed. “You’re not here. You’re never here. You’re always on something with some lame excuse.” Tears fill her eyes again, and she swipes them away as they fall. “You’re not even half the man I married.”
She slings her purse over her shoulder. “Let’s go. And please be normal tonight.” And with that, she storms out of the closet.
Fuck.
I’m such a fucking failure. I can’t even get it up for my wife.
I head straight to my office and lock the door behind me. I rip the iPad from my backpack and peel off the baggie.
