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I was so angry, I wanted to keep arguing, but when he spoke like that and looked like that as he said all those things, I was stunned into silence. My chin dropped, and I stared at his chest instead of him.
“The last thing I want to do is push you away.”
My eyes stayed down.
“Baby, come back to me.”
Why did I feel warm at the sound of his voice? Why did I get weak when he gazed at me like that? Why did I lift my chin and look up at him when I shouldn’t want to look at him ever again?
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Forget what I said.”
“So, you are lying?—”
“I’m not lying,” he snapped. “But this is more important than being right.”
My chin dropped again, knowing I should hate him for all the shit he’d said but physically unable to.
His fingers moved underneath my chin and lifted my head.
I didn’t fight it, feeling a surge of heat at his touch.
He stared at me, his face just inches from mine, his blue eyes focused hard on my features.
My breaths quickened and deepened, the intensity so heavy it was painful. He was so close to me, so close that he could kiss me, and judging by the look on his face, he wanted to.
He glanced at my lips then looked at me again.
I inhaled an unnecessary breath.
He withdrew his touch and stepped back from me. “The food will be here soon.” He returned my chair to the table then left it pulled out for me to sit.
I stared at the chair for a moment before I sat down, feeling the seat cushioning my ass as I dropped down. When his hand left the back of the chair, it grazed my hair, catching a couple strands before he returned to his seat and resumed his heated stare.
We ate in silence, each of us having our own pizza and sharing the fries that I’d ordered. He’d also gotten a bottle of wine for us to share.
It was two in the morning now, and while I was exhausted, my hunger was far more potent.
He didn’t eat nearly as much as I did, focusing on his wine more than anything else.
I ate almost my entire pizza, most of the fries, and even downed the shake by myself.
He wore a look of amusement, like the sight was entertaining for him.
“I was starving.”
“I could tell,” he said with a slight smile, his hands together as his elbows remained propped on the armrests.
I glanced at the bedroom, wondering if he would sleep in the bed with me. I was so tired, I almost didn’t care where he slept. “Will you sleep on the couch?”
“No.”
“You expect me to sleep on the couch?”
He smirked like I’d made a joke. “No.”
“I told you I wanted to sleep in different bedrooms?—”
“It’s our wedding night.”
“What happened to not forcing someone to do what they don’t want to do?”
His smile slowly disappeared. “I’m your husband?—”
“I don’t want to sleep with you.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t.”
He paused for a moment. “Tell me why.”
I looked away.
“Baby.”
“I told you to stop calling me that.”
“It’s hard not to,” he said quietly. “Because when I look at you…I see my baby. Now tell me why.”
My eyes remained averted. “Because stuff will happen…”
“I would never pressure you into something you don’t want to do, as I’ve proven.”
I swallowed before I answered. “That’s not what I’m worried about.” I didn’t want to see the smirk on his face. Didn’t want to see the victory in his eyes. He wasn’t the problem, but I was.
There was no smile in his voice. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting me.”
“I disagree.”
“I’m your husband?—”
“And the man who has broken me beyond all repair.” I’d spent those six months trying to convince myself I was okay, when I was anything but. “For the first month, all I did was stay home every night and cry. There were days when I couldn’t get out of bed, so I lied and said I was sick, when my father knew I wasn’t. Then I started to drink a lot, going through a bottle of wine by myself every night. When that didn’t work, I turned to sex. But that just made me feel lonelier.” I could feel his stare on the side of my face even though I couldn’t see him. It was like a spot of sunlight on a summer day. “And when that didn’t work, I came to the conclusion that nothing would ever work. So I’ve been walking this world like a zombie, feeling nothing at all.” The silence stretched after I finished speaking.
Axel didn’t say anything. What could he possibly say to that?
After a moment of silence, I turned back to look at him.
His face was flushed, his veins were more prominent, and his eyes were on the table in silent rage.
