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“What? No.” He frowns.
“Why not?”
“I’m not having sex with you to get back at Enzo.”
I narrow my eyes at him, wondering how the hell he knew that’s what my game was.
“Come on, you’re a guy. What do you care?”
He scoffs. “Don’t be like that, Jordan. You’re not a vindictive person. And neither am I.”
“The doctor said it’ll help me relax.”
“Yeah, until we’re done, and you feel guilty for doing something you know your husband doesn’t want you do to!” he argues.
I ignore the disappointed look he’s giving me and keep going.
“If he didn’t want me to fuck you, he shouldn’t have left me here with you!” I scream. Rafael’s face falls, sadness crossing his features. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m sorry, I just…” A heavy sob leaves me, and I hurry for the stairs.
“Jordan, wait,” Rafael says, moving after me. He grabs my arm and stops me halfway up the stairs. “I’m not mad at you. I get it, okay? This isn’t the right thing to do. Not to get back at him.”
“That wasn’t the only reason,” I admit with a shrug.
Rafael sighs, running a hand down his face. “I get it. It’s hard to not have that connection. I understand. And maybe when I’m convinced it isn’t to piss off Enzo, I’ll be okay with it. For now, will you settle for a massage?”
I chew on my lip as I think it over. “I guess so.”
He throws his arm around my shoulder, and we head into mine and Enzo’s room. Rafael gives me the best foot massage I’ve ever had in my life, and when he massages my back and neck, I fall asleep.
Another week without knowing whether my husband is alive or dead.
It’s getting harder instead of easier. Especially since Rafael seems to be at the same point as me now. He isn’t keeping up his cheery positivity like he was before. He’s running out of steam too. He lays with me in bed more than he ever has before, though maybe that’s because we moved to his bed instead of mine and Enzo’s. A few days ago, I told him it was hard lying in the bed that smells like Enzo. So he picked me up and carried me to his room. I haven’t slept this well in a long time. But now, I don’t want to leave. In fact, I don’t go upstairs for anything anymore. Rafael brought me down some clothes, and that’s that. I stay down here.
“I don’t know how much more I can take,” I admit quietly. It’s late into the night. Completely dark in the room. I’m lying with my head on Rafael’s chest. He’s running his fingers up and down my arm.
“You have to take it all, Jordan. For the babies.”
“But what about me?” My lip trembles when the words leave my lips, and I’m hit with a wave of guilt. “I know I need to worry about them, but don’t I need to worry about me too? How can I help them if I’m nothing?”
Rafael sighs, pulling me closer. “What do you need?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
Rafael shifts, rolling me to my back, and hovers over me. He kisses my neck.
“Will this help?” He thrusts against me, grinding his pelvis between my legs.
“I don’t know,” I admit, the words coming out breathless.
He kisses my neck again, dragging his nose down, and licking across my collarbone. I run my hands up his arms, over his back, and up his chest.
“Rafael?”
“Hm,” he hums, kissing the other side of my neck.
“Don’t do this because you feel bad for me.”
“I’m doing this because I feel bad for me,” he admits, and it hits me so hard it knocks the air out of me. He’s hurting more than I thought.
