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“Yeah, you’re going to want to go talk to Rosie. She seemed pretty upset when she was in the kitchen earlier and overheard the nurse giggling as if you were the funniest man alive.”
“Fuck. It was nothing like that. I swear. I wanted nothing to do with that nurse.”
“I know that. I told her that, but I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong. She seemed sad at the idea of you with the nurse.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” I try to say lightheartedly but the hurt or hopelessness seems to fracture the delivery.
“It’s true. She stayed in the kitchen for a while, just listening to what was going on in here. From the outside, it sounded like exactly what she thought. I knew better and I tried to tell her that for you.
“I appreciate it, Matias.”
“Really. Go to her. I’m going to go find Gianni. Have a good night, brother.”
“You too,” I say, watching him go.
All I can hear now is my own breathing and as I study the room, my attention falls to the cracked window from the chair I threw, which is currently lying in pieces outside.
My entire body aches and my eyes sting with exhaustion, but I won’t go to bed until I talk to my wife. My curious, stubborn, hard-headed, impossible, slightly aggravating, beautiful wife. I wouldn’t have her any other way, but I wish she’d trust me just a little.
Thinking about the nurse and how her hand drifted down my front, my cock didn’t even stir, but the thought of Rosie doing that, trusting me enough to take a chance on me has arousal searing my veins.
Matias is right. I need to go talk to her.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, I don’t know when it got so late, but I rub my eyes, not wanting to sleep until I kiss my wife for the first time.
Jesus, I can’t believe we haven’t even kissed. It wasn’t part of the deal, and she doesn’t have to, but god, I want to feel her lips beneath mine so much that my chest pains with need. I walk out of the room; the living room and kitchen are quiet. There’s a steady drip of water coming from the faucet, and I walk to the sink to make sure it’s off.
That’s when I see the water glass in the sink, a ghost imprint of her lips are on the rim. I pick it up, knowing the print was probably left behind from the ChapStick I always see her putting on. I never thought I’d be jealous of a glass but here I am, wanting to break the inanimate object because her lips touched it.
I’m fucking ridiculous.
I put the glass back in the sink and head down the hall to where our room is but stop just outside the door when I hear sniffling. Placing my ear against the wood, I listen.
I hear sobs.
The kind that shakes the ground beneath your feet with how much pain is being released with each tear that falls.
I press my forehead against the door, wondering when I’ve ever felt so helpless. I’ve been in situations where I’ve shot, killed, stolen, and tortured, yet all those things don’t compare to this. I don’t know how to help this situation. I can’t kill anyone or do anything to make her feel better.
I stand here, listening to her cry, feeling out of my element.
I don’t know how to make this good for her. I’m going to guess her pain is because of me, because of losing her family and being tied to me. There’s a voice in the back of my head that says let her go. Give her a new identity and send her to be with her brother. It would be easy. I could easily plan for that. I did it for her parents and Caplan; why wouldn’t I be able to do it for her too?
Because I don’t want to.
I’m a selfish bastard and I want her. She’s mine. She belongs here with me. I know she does.
Sending her away doesn’t promise her safety but being with me does.
I place my hand on the doorknob and twist, only to find it locked. I frown, then reach into my back pocket and pull out my wallet, managing to slide a card out. I slide it into the crevice where the lock is and press it, jiggling it up and down until I’m able to push the door open.
And what I see has me fuming and panicking.
She’s packing.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I raise my voice as I slam the door behind me, locking it so no one can come in and ask what’s going on.
“I’m getting out of here. I’m done. I’m taking this stupid fucking stone and I’m leaving. I don’t care what it costs me. You don’t need me,” she says through a watery explanation, her throat becoming clogged as she tosses t-shirts and panties in the suitcase.
