Page 24 of Love Me

“Ugh, fine, let’s go for a swim then.”

“Boring.”

On our way downstairs, he winks at Bailey. She excuses herself quickly, busying herself on her phone.

“I thought you were innocent, but damn, that girl is kept like a precious egg.”

“She’s the baby of the family.”

“I would eat her alive.”

Guilt surges through me, but my family has my loyalties.

“Don’t. She’s innocent.”

“No one in the Family is innocent.”

With that, he enters the kitchen and pours a glass of water.

Today’s events overload my system. This is not how things were supposed to be. Yet this is my reality. Exploring what could have been is for dreamers, not for cynics.

Soft music comes from upstairs, lulling me to follow the sounds. The classic, haunting melody draws me in. I crave the pain to remind myself what he’s capable of––playing me like he plays his instrument and then moving on to someone else.

His door is slightly ajar. Kaden is bent over the piano, his long, elegant fingers flying over the keyboard with ease, playing a melody of loss and grief. An avalanche of memories breaks free. His fingers flex, and even through his shirt, his back muscles are pulled taut like he’s trying to purge something out of his system.

I step inside despite my mind telling me not to. The melody pulls at strings with a direct link to my emotions, of him playing hours on end for me.

It was soothing, now it’s maddening.

“Stop.”

He misses a note but continues. How dare he play that song, the one that made me a babbling mess, the one when I knew in my heart he would forever occupy.

I slap my palm on the piano.

“Stop.”

He slams the piano lid down. My breath whooshes out of me when he grips my waist and plants me on top of the piano. He settles between my thighs. That small friction awakens dormant needs in me.

“What are you doing in my room?”

“That was your desperate attempt to bring me here.”

“And you couldn’t withstand it?”

I clamp my mouth shut.

His fingers glide up my thigh, electrifying me. “Do you tell him the same lies with that pouty mouth of yours?”

I grip his jaw, hating him with every living fiber inside of me.

“I don’t lie to him.”

He spreads me on his piano. At least he stopped playing it. This I can take.

“You came back, fine. Who am I to prevent you from coming back? But you bring him into my house, under my roof? I have some questions, wife.”

“Don’t call me that! Not anymore.” Nothing is sacred to him.

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