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“Okay you got me, I like everything on you.”
I swallow, not knowing what to say before my eyes move to his arm, zoning in on one particular tattoo just as it always does. Amongst the woven lines and colors painted on his arm are the numbers 10. 13. 12.
October 13, 2012.
The day Bennett and I got married. I trace each number with my eyes one by one before I follow the trail down his arm to his hand, and I frown slightly when I see the ring on his finger.
My eyes widen in shock seeing it on his finger for the first time in six months. “You’re wearing your ring?”
“Well, I am married.” I look up at him and he gives me a half smile, half smirk, and I know I need to move before I do something I regret. Something that sets me back months. I move away from him to the other side of the island.
“You can’t…”
“Can’t what?”
“Do that!”
“Olivia,” he begs, “please, can we just talk?”
“Talk about what?” I ask. “How you broke my heart? How you destroyed us?” My subconscious, whose voice sounds an awful fucking lot like Wren Hamilton perks up. You sure it was just his fault?
“I know but…”
“No buts, Bennett. You cheated. You fucked another woman. I would never cheat on you. No matter what was going on between us.”
He’s leaning on the island now, assumedly to keep himself steady when his eyes flit up to mine and I can see the question there. “What was going on between us?”
I take another sip of my wine and shake my head as I start to move out of the kitchen. “I’m going to bed.”
“No. Olivia. What happened?” His eyes search mine for answers.
“What happened is you ran the second things got hard.”
“When was anything ever hard between us? We could always talk about everything. Anything.”
Until I couldn’t.
The wine on top of not eating much today has me feeling warm and fuzzy and all I want is to curl up in bed and sleep until tomorrow despite it only being seven o’clock. “Life happens.” I shrug and his eyes blaze with fire.
“Fuck that, Olivia. Don’t tell me that shit, what happened between you and me?”
“I—” I start when he’s around the island in an instant and standing in front of me.
“Livi, if I’m forced to accept this…I need to know why.” His eyes are pleading and desperate. “Please.”
“I…” I look away from him as tears prickle in my eyes when I feel his hand on my face again, stroking the space beneath my eyes.
“I’m sorry, for whatever it is that made it so you can’t talk to me.” My lip trembles as his words hit so close to home and resound in my heart. I couldn’t talk to him. I couldn’t talk about how I felt defective for not being able to protect our babies. I couldn’t talk about how much it gutted me when I saw the disappointment on his face every month I wasn’t pregnant or when I finally did get pregnant but then lost the baby.
“Bennett…” I whisper, shaking my head. I can’t do this. Not now.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me.” His hand is still on my face, and I relish in his touch. His gaze is penetrating, but I can’t find the strength to look away. I’m about to suggest we at least move to the couch to talk about this when reality brings me to a screeching halt.
My head snaps to my door and the repetitive knocking. It takes a second for me to realize someone’s at my door when Bennett breaks the silence. “Are you expecting someone?”
“N—no?” I shake my head and move towards the door when I feel a hand around my wrist pulling me slightly. I look up at him and he stares down at me.
“You aren’t expecting anyone and it’s late. I’ll get it,” he says and it takes me back to a time when we lived here together. His protectiveness used to be such a turn-on.
