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“We’re not going to have anything to eat!”
“Baby…” I kissed my way down her perfect body until I was on my knees in front of her, sliding down her panties. “I’m ready to eat now.”
She laughed, throwing her head back. It was one of my favorite sounds. As soon as she felt my tongue on her clit, she loudly moaned, and I ate what I wanted for dinner.
Step by step, I made my way through our home.
Hearing her laughs.
Seeing her smiles.
Feeling our love.
Starting from the front door where I carried her over the threshold, to the stairs where I made love to her for hours on end, to the travertine floors we’d spent entirely too much time at Lowe’s for. Every corner of this house held a memory of our life together.
There was no escaping it…
The good.
The bad.
“Christian!” she shouted. “You’re not listening to me!”
“How can I when all you do is yell at me? For fuck’s sake! I just walked in from a fourteen-hour work day, and you greet me with nothing but your bullshit!”
“It’s the only time I have before you go hurrying back to the hospital again to deliver another baby!”
“Well, at least someone is having babies around here!”
Over the years, we both said things we didn’t mean. Letting our anger speak for itself was never a good thing. It was one of the reasons we tried therapy, thinking it might help, it might repair what was broken between us. Or, at least help us talk to each other without screaming.
At first, I thought it was working until our problems became bigger than our love. Somewhere along the way, we lost respect for one another, and anything was free game when it came down to hurting each other.
Words had the power to cut you, and we’d been using our tongues as butcher knives for the last few years.
It wasn’t always like this. We were even featured in Home and Gardens—the successful doctor and his beautiful professor wife. A lot of time and devotion was put into every detail of this house, down to the pillows on the sofas, and the accessories she perfectly matched to the tones of the room. I had no part in that—it was all Kinley.
Saying it was the first home she’d ever had.
“Oh! You can’t use that throw blanket, Christian. It’s only for decoration.”
I grinned. “You bought a blanket we can’t use?”
She smiled. “But look how nice it looks.”
I eyed her up and down. She was wearing a light pink nightie. “I’m not looking at the blanket, sweetness. Come here.”
“Hold that thought. I’m going to go get my robe. I’m cold.”
Before she could turn around to leave, I grabbed her wrist and sat her on my lap. “Don’t worry, baby.” Sliding my fingers into her panties, I rasped, “I’ll have you burning up very soon.”
Under all the hurt, the insults, and the things we could never take back, I still felt our profound love in this house.
I hadn’t been in our bedroom for months, and once I stepped into the space we used to share, a shiny frame caught my attention from the corner of the room. Suddenly, I was walking toward the pictures I hadn’t seen in who knows how long.
Did she just hang these?
Reaching for the frame, I took out the photos to hold them in my hand. It was the pictures we had taken in the photobooth at the end of the summer carnival all those years ago. We were sixteen and looked so fucking young. Her eyes sparkled against the sun coming in through the balcony behind me, only revealing her contagious smile and petite features as her hair flowed around her stunning face.
