Page 43 of Savage Love

I walk slowly into the living room, trying to tamp down my emotions. To not think that tonight will go like that drunken night in the motel, when I know how unlikely that is.

Levin is sitting on the sofa, dressed as casually as I’ve ever seen him in joggers and a black t-shirt, a slight flush to his skin from drinking. He looks up as soon as I walk into the room, setting his phone down, and watches me as I walk towards him, stopping at the edge of the couch.

“I thought about sending you a text. I wasn’t sure if I should let you know how late I’d be or that I was on my way–”

“You don’t have to. It can’t hurt, though. I didn’t worry, though, knowing you were at the estate.”

I don’t know if that makes me happy or not. It’s not that Iwantto worry him, but I like the idea of him thinking about me, wondering when I’ll get home. I had hoped that maybe he would’ve anticipated our first night in the new house, in some way, although I’d guessed that him having both of us go out was a way of not making a big deal out of it.

“How was your night?”

Levin shrugs. “It was fine. Nice to spend some time with Niall and Liam.”

“It wasn’t awkward with—” I frown. “Everything going on? Even with Liam being in charge of the Kings, and—”

Levin chuckles. “We’re good at compartmentalizing that sort of thing. Liam and I won’t ever be as close as he and Niall are, but we’re good friends. We know how to keep that and business separate. Connor is another story. I’ve got no idea where he made himself scarce at while you ladies enjoyed the estate, but it wasn’t out with us.”

“I imagine between home and work, Liam gets enough time with his brother.”

“Especially when his brother is Connor.” Levin chuckles again, and then cocks his head. “What about you? How was your night? Did you enjoy it?”

The questions come out in a quick string, and I blink at him. “Yeah–I think I did. I didn’t get to know anyone that well at the wedding; it was all so fast. It was nice to meet everyone without all that going on.”

“They were nice to you? I know Saoirse and Isabella haven’t always been on the right foot.”

“They were all wonderful.”And they all had wonderful things to say about you.It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Levin that. I can’t help but wonder if he realizes that no one else seems to see him as the failure that he thinks he is, someone constantly in need of redemption. I haven’t known a single person yet who knows him that’s said anything like that. Even Connor seems to have respect for him, even if they didn’t appear to get along all that well the one time I saw them both in a room together.

“That’s good.” Levin shifts on the sofa, looking at me curiously. “Do you think you’ll be happy here? That you might be able to make friends?”

Slowly, I come to sit on the couch next to him, still an arm’s length away. I feel too fragile, too vulnerable right now to be closer. The night has been a lot to take in, and I want things from him that I’m not sure he’s going to be willing to give me.

“I think so,” I tell him tentatively. “I hadn’t expected them to welcome me in so soon, but I’m not unhappy with it. It’s not all that different from what I would have expected if I’d stayed in Mexico and married someone picked for me. I would have gotten to know the other boss’s wives and their son’s wives, and there would have been similar evenings—dinner parties and get-togethers and all of that.”

“Instead, you ended up with me.” There’s what looks like a smile on his face, but I can hear the self-deprecation in his tone, and I know he doesn’t mean it positively. I know I should let it go, but I can’t. Especially not tonight, when I’m so tired, and it’s our first night in our new home, and I wish with a kind of exhaustion that seems to be settling into me that things were different.

“I wouldn’t be happier in a situation like that,” I tell him flatly, and Levin looks at me, his gaze sharper than before, the smile gone.

“You can’t possibly be happy with a husband who can’t love you.” His words are still blurred at the edges, and I have a feeling that he’s only saying this because his defenses are a little lowered.

I wish that had resulted in something other than this conversation.

“I always expected that.” The words stick in my throat. “I was always going to be married to someone I didn’t love and have to find a way to be happy in spite of it. What I didn’t expect—”

I look at my husband, at his handsome, chiseled face and his blue eyes, at the man that I ache for all of the time, and the rest of the sentence comes out without my meaning for it to.

“—I didn’t expect to have a husband I was in love with, who didn’t love me.”

The moment I say it, I feel myself flinch, startled. I want to grab the words out of thin air and drag them back, unsay them, because I never meant to tell him like this. I never meant to tell him at all.

The silence between us feels especially thick and heavy. I feel my cheeks turning red, flushed and heating, and I push myself up from the couch, wanting to be out of the room, anywhere else. As far away from this particular moment as possible, because now I’ve said it, and I know I won’t hear it back.

I’m halfway up from the couch when his hand closes around my wrist, pulling me back down, much closer to him than I was before. A flood of heat fills me, my entire body tightening at how close he is to me, and I hate myself a little for it, that no matter what happens, I can’t seem to not want him.

“I’m sorry.” The words sound thicker now, coming out of his mouth, emotion wrapped up with alcohol, and I can see the apology in his eyes. His hand is still around my wrist, holding me there, and I know if I tried to pull away again, he’d let me go.

I don’t want him to.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” His other hand reaches for my waist, pulling me closer. I can feel the warmth radiating off of him, the tension in him as he fights with what I know he wants, especially right now, when his self-control is already frayed. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Elena, I’m sorry–”

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