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Searing disappointment washes over me. “Oh. I… I mean, yes, I can, but I just thought… I thought it would be nice to go home together after the meeting wraps up?”
We’ve been going to work and coming home together most days for a couple of weeks now, and I’d hoped we’d do that today too. “Sorry,” Zane says, running a hand through his hair. “I’m busy.”
I frown and push aside the hurt his words cause. “With what?” My tone is sharper than I’d intended it to be, and he raises a brow as he grabs his jacket from the back of his chair, his expression shuttering closed. I watch him walk away without answering my question and I stare after him, something dark unfurling deep in my chest when the door closes behind him.
Countless scenarios run through my mind, each more painful than the last, and I sigh as I sink back into my chair. I’m tired of feeling so insecure around my husband, of wondering if he’s rushing away to see someone else. Things may have become more civil between us, and the sex definitely is as good as it used to be, but there’s still this distance between us that feels insurmountable. There are parts of himself he won’t show me, and I suppose the reverse is true too.
I’m not even sure what I’d call us. We’re not friends, and we’re definitely not a real couple. I suppose we’re just business acquaintances who sleep together, and today, more than any other day, I wish that wasn’t the case. I miss him, the real him, the version of him that used to be mine. I want the man who never would’ve forgotten what day it is today.
It’s all I can think about as I get through the rest of the day, eager to just get home so I can crawl into bed with a book that’ll let me forget about everything I can’t have, everything I shouldn’t even want.
My heart is heavy as I park in front of the house, on the brink of tears, without truly being able to pinpoint why. Some days, the grief just hits me harder, and my loneliness feels a little heavier. Missing someone who’s gone is tough, but missing someone who’s right by your side chips away at your soul like nothing else I’ve ever experienced. I miss the way we’d share small details about our days, the way we’d joke around, and the way he used to look at me. I miss the unwavering trust between us and how excited we were about our future. I miss being his person and having all of him in return.
I take a deep breath and get out of the car, desperate for a shower and our bed, where I can cling to his pillow and pretend for a few moments until the illusion shatters. Remorse threatens to overwhelm me when I press my thumb to the scanner at the front door, my memories haunting me. Once upon a time, I stood right here, seconds away from betraying the man I loved more than anything. If I could go back in time, would I make the same choice? I’m not sure anymore.
The door swings open, and I frown when I spot rose petals on the floor, creating a trail for me to follow. My heart begins to pound wildly as I try to comprehend what might be going on. Hope blooms in my chest as I take a hesitant step forward in the shoes Zane once gave me, the diamonds sparkling in the candlelight that illuminates my path.
My heart is in my throat when I reach the end of the trail and find my husband standing in front of the hallway that leads to his observatory, a bouquet of his mother’s roses in his hands. “Happy birthday, Celeste,” he says, the sweetest smile on his face as he hands me the flowers.
I choke back a sob, but tears spill from my eyes nonetheless. “I thought you f-forgot.”
He cups my cheek and swipes away my tears, his gaze filled with tenderness. “There isn’t a single thing about you I could ever forget, no matter how hard I try, no matter how much it hurts.”
I reach for him and throw myself against his chest, earning myself a soft chuckle as his arm wraps around me. “I hope you’re hungry, baby,” he murmurs. “I cooked you dinner.” He kisses the top of my head, and I swallow down another sob. “It isn’t much, but I thought it might be nice to have dinner in the observatory?”
I lean back to look at him in disbelief. “I thought you said it was off-limits to me.” Something flashes in his eyes, and I regret the words immediately. I wish I hadn’t reminded him of it.
“Not anymore,” he whispers. My heart skips a beat when he throws me a shaky smile, his hand slipping into mine. Zane pulls me through the hallway, nostalgia hitting me in waves as we enter the observatory.
This is where he kissed me for the first time, where he took my virginity, and where we dreamed of our future together. When I think of our best memories, I inadvertently think of this place. It’s where we had most of our dates, where we fell in love.
My heart feels heavy as I take in all the changes. So many of the flowers are gone, and new ones have taken their place. I stumble when an unwanted thought rushes to the forefront of my mind — all of the flowers he ripped out werelilyvarieties, and my heart sinks at the thought of him not being able to see them without thinking ofher.
“What’s wrong?” Zane asks.
I look up at him and force a smile, unwilling to ruin this moment, yet unable to hide the way my mood just dropped. Guilt begins to swirl deep in my chest, and I push it down, desperate to just exist in this moment with Zane. “Nothing,” I tell him, tightening my grip on his hand.
Zane studies me curiously but lets it go, his grip becoming just a little clammier as we approach one of the gardens. A hint of disappointment washes over me when I realize it isn’t the rose garden he took me to, but I push the feeling aside immediately. He always warned me that the rose garden was for his wife, and in his eyes… that isn’t me. Not truly.
“Here we are,” Zane murmurs, and my lips part in surprise as I look around, noting the thousands of flowers with fairy lights entwined between them, a dining table in the center.
I bite down on my lip as he reaches for me and brushes away tears I hadn’t even realized had started to fall again. He shakes his head so tenderly as I look into his eyes, and when he kisses my forehead, I just know. No one will ever compare to him. Regret hits me harder than it ever has before, and my heart twists painfully at the thought of everything that could’ve been ours, everything he’ll someday give to someone else.
Zane leads me to my seat and pulls it out for me, his patience endless tonight. “I cooked you the lamb ragout you used to love,” he tells me as servers bring in trays. “I wasn’t sure if you still like it, but I—”
“I do,” I reassure him instantly, my heart overflowing with a mixture of gratitude and pure joy — the unfiltered kind, the kind you feel when you’re in the middle of a moment you just know you’ll remember forever.
Zane sits down opposite me, and I can’t tear my eyes off him. It isn’t the way he’s lost his suit jacket and waistcoat, nor is it the way he rolled up his shirt sleeves. It’s the way he looks at me, like he finds me mesmerizing.
My husband’s eyes darken when I sigh happily, a soft moan on my lips as I take a bite of a dish I’ve missed more than he could possibly understand. “Did you know I was always jealous of this stupid pasta, because each time you have it, you wrap your lips around your fork the way you wrap them around my cock? I should be the only one that can make you sound likethat.”
I laugh, startled by his confession. “Is that why you refused to make it for me half the time?”
He shrugs and nods, which only makes me laugh harder. “Zane, you can’t be jealous of.. of…food… thatyoumade.” I take another bite and try my hardest not to giggle in response to his scowl. “That doesn’t even make sense. Doesn’t that just mean you’re still the one that’s making me moan?”
He crosses his arms, the cutest expression on his face. “I don’t care. I don’t like it.”
“Okay, babe. I’ll just eat it quietly next time. I’ll only ever moan like that for you — that’s a vow.”
