Page 65 of If I Didn’t Have You

Shoving away from the table, I stalked over to my woman and took her gently by the arm.

“Ready to head home, baby?”

Spinning, she graced me with a smile I hadn’t seen since we started fighting weeks ago.

“Benjamin!” She flung her arms around me, swaying to the music. “Dance with me.”

I just wanted to get her out of there before she got sick, but as she tucked her body against mine, I couldn’t deny her this one request. So, I wrapped my arm around her, holding her up as she stumbled in my arms.

Fuck, I missed the feel of her body against mine, of her clinging to me like she needed me to survive. When was the last time I’d held her like this, or even bothered to take a minute to catch the scent of her perfume?

How had I allowed the last five years of my marriage to float past me without realizing all I was missing out on? How had I ignored who my wife truly was for so long?

How had I let her become a shell of the woman she used to be?

Anger flooded me, but I tamped it down. Now was not the time for revelations, not when I was holding my wife in my arms. Not when she was finally enjoying herself for the first time in years.

“I will do better,” I whispered in her ear. “I will be the man you married, and I won’t take you for granted ever again.”

“Promise me, Ben. I need my husband back.”

I ran my nose along hers, inhaling her sweet scent, reminding myself of all I had to lose. “I swear it. Things will be different from now on.”

But as I drove her home and watched as she drifted in and out of consciousness, I knew she wouldn’t remember the promises I made to her tonight. In the morning, we’d be back to square one, and I’d have to fight for my place in her life and in her heart.

We only made it as far as the bedroom before she darted for the bathroom, nearly falling over her own feet in her rush to get to the toilet. I was there in an instant, hauling her into the bathroom just in time for the alcohol to make a reappearance.

Rubbing her back, I stayed with her until she got the last of it out of her system for the time being. Then I cleaned her up and carried her to bed, stripping her of her clothes, leaving her in nothing but her underwear.

Tucking the sheet around her, I grabbed a wet cloth and pressed it to her forehead, hoping to ease the nausea.

I didn’t get a wink of sleep, choosing instead to stay up with her in case she had to make another mad dash to the bathroom. Settling into the chair in the corner, I kept an eye on her. She’d be pissed if she woke up in bed with me. Exhaustion tugged at me, but I refused to close my eyes, not even as light snores filled the room. But eventually, I nodded off just as the sun was starting to fill the room.

I jerked awake at the sound of her moans as she rolled over. Jumping up, I hurried over to the bed, hauling her up in my arms just as she started to gag. We only made it to the entrance of the bathroom when she started to puke.

“Oh God,” she groaned. “I’m never drinking again.”

“It’s alright. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She was a limp noodle in my arms as I turned on the water and held her up in the shower as the water washed over us. We were both covered in vomit, but thankfully, she was mostly naked, making it easier to clean her up. I’d have to strip and wash my clothes.

“Why are you here?” she whispered as she rested against my shoulder.

“Because I knew you would need me.”

“I’ve been so horrible to you.”

Her words were nothing more than a murmur, but they struck me hard. Not because she was right, but because I deserved it. Every barb, every tear…I caused that. I made her unhappy with my selfishness, and here she was, feeling bad for how she treated me.

“Can you sit on the toilet while I get out of these wet clothes?”

She nodded in a roundabout way, and I quickly stripped out of my clothes, grabbing towels for both of us. I slung the towel around my waist, then wrapped her tightly, guiding her into the other room.

“We should get something in your stomach.”

Another groan slipped from her lips, but she allowed me to dress her, then help her downstairs. As for me, I was still in a towel, but that didn’t seem to matter when she felt so horrible.

It was only when I started making her breakfast that I really realized what an ass I had been for so long. For once in my life, I was putting her first, choosing to make sure she was okay before I took care of myself.