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“It’s a beautiful place, even in winter.”
His voice froze her in place. Had she imagined it? That deep, rich timbre of his voice as it washed over her and sent her pulse pounding?
Slowly, she turned her head. He stood just a few feet away, his hands clasped behind his back, his dark hair dusted with snow. Her throat tightened. God, she’d missed him.
“It is.”
Her fingers curled around the seat of the bench. The coldness from the stone seeped through her gloves. No matter what, she would not make a fool of herself. They had to see each other eventually. Best to get it over with and move on.
“You look very pale.”
She frowned.
“It is winter.”
Alaric shook his head. “That’s not... I meant you don’t look well.”
“The words every woman wants to hear when she’s tired and nauseous.”
Her nose wrinkled and she looked away. Great. Less than thirty seconds in each other’s company and they were already snipping at each other. Was this how the rest of their marriage was destined to be?
She heard Alaric approach, shifted to the left as he eased himself onto the bench beside her to keep some space between them.
“You haven’t been sleeping.”
She shook her head.
She started as his hand slid over hers and gently eased her grip off the bench. She bit down on her lower lip as he threaded his fingers through hers. The simple act made her ache. Was he trying to punish her? Or was he trying to keep her calm before he dropped another bombshell on her, like asking for a divorce?
Her stomach rolled. Amazing how just three weeks ago she’d been fighting him against getting married. Now the thought of not having him in her life in any capacity left her shaken.
“I hurt you.”
Her head snapped up.
“What?”
Alaric’s eyes latched onto hers, his gaze moving over her face as if he hadn’t seen her in decades instead of days. Slowly, his other hand came up. When she didn’t move, his fingers settled on her cheek, cradling her with a gentleness that made her eyes grow hot.
“I hurt you, Clara. I let my own pride and pain and past overrule everything else.” His voice grew thick as he leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. His breath came out fast and warmed her cheek. “Can I ever begin to tell you how sorry I am?”
She sat there, frozen in place, not wanting to pull away from his touch but unsure of how to answer.
“Clara, please say something.”
The sorrow in his voice yanked her out of her shock. She leaned back, missed the warmth of his skin against hers as the winter air swirled around them. She had never in a thousand years imagined that he would apologize. Hope flickered in her chest.
But hope and apologies weren’t enough. If this was the beginning of a new chapter, there had to be trust and communication.
She stood, gave his hand a squeeze and walked over to the fountain. She wrapped her arms around her waist as the words spilled forth.
“Miles was drunk a lot. I knew he’d struggled when we dated, but Temperance and Stanley managed it. I wanted to have a family again so badly that I looked past so many warning signs. Even when they became big flashing neon lights telling me to get out, I hung on. I’d put so much time in, I told myself, and perhaps things would get better when we got married.”
She closed her eyes, remembering the shattering of glass the night of their honeymoon when he’d hurled a champagne flute at the wall in their hotel suite because she’d asked him to stay with her instead of going back to the reception to drink more.
“I was so stupid.”
She sensed rather than heard Alaric stand.
