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I storm to the balcony, and as I crane my neck to the stars above, I pray. After so many weeks, it’s the first time I’ve felt the need to do it, but I need guidance. I’m at a loss. Prayers slip through my lips, and they calm me. When I go back inside, I climb into bed next to him, but he storms out and shuts the door behind him as if he can’t bear to be near me.
It’s for the best, Aurora.I take the comforter and a pillow and make myself a makeshift bed on the balcony where dark clouds gather, hinting at the impending storm. I watch thunder striking the sky until my eyelids grow heavy, and I fall asleep with the rain biting into my skin.
My head aches, my eyes are heavy, and fatigue threatens to drag me under the moment I try to peel them open. I pull myself up, but tumble back down, depleted of any strength. Was it that cold last night? I shouldn’t have slept outside and on the marble.I try again and brace myself against the doorframe. The door opens and our eyes collide. Kieran takes me in, as well as my makeshift bed, and drags a hand down his face.
“Did you sleep outside?” Worry threads through his voice, thick with something deep. Could it be that he cares?
I try to move inside, but weakness overtakes me, and I fall to my knees. He cuts the distance between us and puts his hands under me, scooping me up. He carries me to the bed and places his hand on my head.
“You’re burning up.”
“Yep, well, I am in hell. It’s supposed to burn, don’t you think?”
His jaw tics. Did I say that out loud? Stupid mouth, stupid cold. Who gets a cold in summer? Me. With my shitty luck, I won’t even be able to go to Chiara’s wedding.
Kieran disappears behind the door. He doesn’t care. Why would he? Now that I am lucid, I think he just wanted to fuck me. Yes, that was his plan. He doesn’t care about me.
Tamara comes inside and I smile at her, but even that hurts. My sweat drenches the sheets and I shiver.
“Is he gone? Why does he always leave?”
She puts a thermometer in my mouth, and her eyes widen. She rushes out of the room.
Kieran steps inside, shouting to someone on the phone to hurry, but I must be hallucinating.
“You’re here.” My hand lifts, but I can’t hold it up and it crashes back to the bed from sheer gravity. He is a figment of my imagination, surely.
“If you wanted to fuck me, I would have done that on my own, but you did and now you’re cold, and I can’t take it when you’re cold...”
“Shh,” he says, kissing my temple, his lips lingering there.
“You don’t know how you make me feel. You’re taking every part of me and putting them back with your name on the pieces and I’m scared. I’m so scared.”
“Open your mouth, Aurora.” His words are laced with anguish and so much softness it warms my freezing chest.
I shake my head. “No, I’m so tired. Stop calling me that. I don’t like when you call me Aurora, it’s not personal enough.”
“Just open your mouth and then you can sleep, sweetheart.”
I swallow the medicine. I’m cold, so cold. My limbs tremble, my teeth chatter, the bed shakes from my body jerking. But it gets better when my back presses into something warm and hard.
“I am afraid of this thing between us. You’re starting to feel like home. And it’s scary and you’re punishing me for not knowing better.”
His lips press against my neck. “I’m sorry for being a clusterfuck of jagged and rotten pieces and not a man deserving of you. I could never deserve you because you’re perfect, sweetheart. Fucking perfect.”
Forty-eight hours later, the longest and most torturous hours of my fucking life, end when the doctor says, “Her fever is dropping.”
The relief is so potent, it knocks me off my feet and I drop down at the edge of the bed.
“Thank you.” My voice is like sandpaper. When she leaves, I take her frail hand in mine. Her angelic face scrunches up, whispering my name in her sleep.
Watching her slip in and out of consciousness, blabbing things that have gutted me, sucker punched my gut. Things like she’s afraid, she’s confused. How she wished she told me the truth, only to retract her words and accuse me of being a bastard for believing there was someone else, because if there was, she would have never married me.
I was so stupid, letting my jealousy blind me. But when one woman brings you to your knees, you’re terrified of losing her. I hate myself, mostly because neither of us will forget our first time together—and not in a good way.
And we’d been on such a good path.
The door opens and Cameron steps inside, concern pinchinghis brows together.
