Page 54 of Cohen's Control

I swallow hard, embarrassment settling in my cheeks in the form of crimson heat. “It sounds ridiculous now, but when you have the beauty of being on the outside, looking in, there’s much more clarity than when you’re trapped in a snow globe, you know?”

“I know,” he says, voice gravelly and raw.

“My entire life the one thing I knew for sure is that I wanted to be a mother. Always. And when Pete and I got together, he shared my dream of being a parent. He said he wanted to be a father. At some point, I realized I didn’t want him to father my child, but I also believed that if I could get pregnant, I could create my own happiness, fulfill my own dream, and that having the ideal partner or being in love was less important.”

Cohen squeezes my hands and twists his face to press a kiss to each of my wrists. “He knew the one thing I wanted more than anything else, and he held it over my head. Used it against me to keep me silent, to keep me in check.” I smile at him. “Then Augustus found me, and he saved me.” I swallow hard at the unexpected emotion burning the back of my nose, wetting my eyes. “And now you’re saving me, Cohen. Did you know that? Did you know that before I met you, I couldn’t orgasm. In a scene, alone, nothing. My body was shut off to that kind of pleasure, or maybe it was my mind all along. I don’t know.”

I take a breath, and a moment to sort through what I’ve said and what I still need to say. I want to lay it all out there, to show him how getting through the difficult things will make us stronger, together.

“You fill places in me I didn’t know were empty. I got so used to a cold, unloving childhood and a cruel and sadistic boss and partner, I didn’t realize whatcould be. And then I met you.” Leaning down, I bring my lips to his, placing the softest of kisses against his lips. “I matter when I’m with you. My thoughts, my opinions, my preferences, my needs. Everything about me matters when I’m with you.”

“That’s how it should be,” he says quietly. “A man exists to serve and worship what’s his.”

I smile at him as I lift my sweatshirt and tank off in one pull, dropping it to the floor near his neat pile of my things. “Tell me, Cohen,” I say, unclasping my bra, his eyes still only on mine.

I rise and shimmy off my panties, and fall to my knees in front of him, his equal. He can be my protective man, the man who lives to serve, but in this moment, we are two lost ships at sea, coming together to rescue one another.

Reaching up, I take his worn face between my hands and I wait. I wait for his words to come, for his pain to spill, for me to pull him back together after it does.

Tears slide down his cheeks, going unacknowledged as he speaks, slowly, voice weak. “I was married. And I was a father, too.”

Was.

My thumbs sweep over his cheeks, but I refuse to react. I hold him there, pushing down the pain and agony rising up inside me like a rapid tide, determined to be his strength in this.

Tears slide down my cheeks as the wordwasloops in my brain.

“Ten years ago I married my college sweetheart,” he says, an invisible weight of his trauma clearly resting on his shoulders, his posture slouching as his breathing intensifies. “Eight years ago, we had a baby.” His bottom lip tremors. “I had a daughter.”

Had.

My nose burns as tears slip freely and easily down my cheeks, but I continue ridding his face of the pain, swiping his tears with my thumbs. “Oh Cohen,” I breathe, my voice weak, my entire body aching with second hand pain.

He’s lost a child.

There could be nothing worse, in all of life and existence, than losing a child. This is a huge, cruel, unfair circumstance, one so unnatural and painful that it can’t be topped. There is no loss as big as losing the person you love more than yourself.

“My wife went to her sister’s. She lived in Cheboygan. We lived in Mount Pleasant. It’s a couple hours drive, but feels longer with a young child.”

I don’t nod. I don’t speak. I only stay there on my knees, tears still streaming freely as I listen. Listening is often the greatest and most underrated gift to give someone you love.

“I couldn’t go. I had to work. I had this... We were working on a bigger production set at the theater. And she’d taken her up there a few times before, so it wasn’t unusual.”

His eyes unfocus from me for a moment, and actual pain clutches my throat because I know what’s going on.

He’s remembering.

“She wanted her to see her cousins, and experience the lake before winter. Her sister lived right on the lake.”

My heart beat slows, growing heavy with anticipation. His face droops, but I hold him there, giving him the strength he doesn’t have.

“They swam. She had a life jacket on. But the kids were wild, and,” he shakes his head, letting a sigh break free. “I know that things happen fast, Iknowthat.”

We kneel there together for a few minutes as he gathers the energy and courage, and I wait as if no time has passed. I press my mouth to his, and hold his gaze, imparting on him in all silent ways that I am here, I am here and I have him, the same way he has me.

“Valerie called me at dinner time. She was crying, all shaken up. And I knew it had to be bad, because she rarely cried. She wasn’t an emotional person by nature.”

My stomach sours, because I know something awful is coming. I remove a hand from his face and place my palm over his heart. His chest pounds beneath me, but a moment later, his body begins to calibrate to my calming touch.

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