Page 68 of So Close

“I would never have married again or built a family.”

“You don’t know that.”

Your arms cross. “The hell I don’t. I would never settle for less. I would never raise a child with less.”

I wince. It’s not jealousy in its usual guise that plagues us. We don’t fear alienation of affection; our affinity is too deep. We envy the giving and taking of pleasure because our relationship is defined by pain.

My lips attempt to curve into a smile. “You could be with another woman, but I’m here instead. I’m happy about that. That’s all that matters.”

“I would never bring another woman here or anywhere. There was never anyone special. Who could ever compete with you?”

I look away quickly, hiding my tears.

“The longing for you was crippling. I learned to live with it, but some days were nightmares.” You stop, held for a moment within the memory of agony. “Some days, I couldn’t stop myself from looking for you, searching for you, in every woman I saw. If someone managed to make me look twice, tohopefor even a second, I’d go a little insane. The disappointment was infuriating.”You pause. “So, I’d fuck them.”

I inhale sharply and cover my face with my hands. When I met you, you weren’t capable of such callousness. No, that’s not true. We’re all capable of it; you were simply too kind to indulge in cruelty. Heartbreak has twisted and refashioned you.

“Rage sex is cathartic,” you continue, your words singed with temper. “Then I’d hate myself for being weak. I’d hate you for making me weak. For making me settle for women who didn’t smell, taste or feel like you. Women who would never see in me what you do. So, I’d fuck them again because it made me sick to do it, and I deserved to feel my skin crawl for being so pathetic. Then I couldn’t stand to see them again.”

I twist away from you, my legs curling into my chest. A moment later, I feel the duvet lift and the mattress dip. Your cool skin presses against mine as you spoon me, curling your body to match my fetal position. Your heavy arm drapes over me, pulling me into you, and your lips press contritely to my shoulder. You wanted to hurt me as you’ve been hurt, to punish me as you’ve felt punished. That’s the craziest thing about love: it’s hate turned inside out.

You weren’t a man capable of such honest cruelty when we met. Love for Lily has warped you, and I accept responsibility for that; I can do no less. I catch your hand in my own and link our fingers together.

We don’t say anything. The embrace alone is comforting for both of us. We lie that way for a long time. The position of the sun’s rays on the walls and ceiling shifts.

“Are you okay?” you ask finally.

I nod. “Are you?”

“I feel like scum. Other than that, I’ll be okay if we are.”

“We’ll be okay.”

You start to move. “I’ll call Julian and take the day off.”

I look at you over my shoulder. “Don’t do that.”

Your gaze narrows. “Why not?”

“Because I’m okay,” I insist. “We’re okay. Really. And you need to clear the decks so we can take that honeymoon you promised me.”

Your eyes dart over my face, searching. You’re apparently satisfied because you press a quick, hard kiss to my lips. “I love you.”

I take a deep breath, then sigh. “I know.”

It’s a mad, suffocating, vicious kind of love. You once sought softer, gentler sentiments, but you’ve adapted. I grieve for the tender young man you once were, but I’m madly, breathlessly, viciously in love with the man you’ve become.

36

LILY

I hearthe hangers sliding as you rifle through your closet, searching and considering options. I leave the bed, leaning a hand heavily into the mattress when I realize my legs are weak. You do that to me for reasons physical and far more profound than flesh.

Slipping on a red silk kimono, I belt it around my waist and start toward the stairs. I’m halfway down when the doorbell rings and gives me a start.

“I’ll get it,” I call up to you. “Take your time.”

Instantly vigilant, I descend in a rush, dipping my head around the corner for a split second to peek through the door’s inset glass. Surprise visitors have an entirely different connotation for us than for anyone else. And if someone poses a threat, they’ll have to get through me to get to you.

---