Page 73 of Parrish

She draws her eyebrows together and finally gives me her eyes. Instead of looking at me with the love I’ve come to expect, she gives me a blank stare. There is no light. No love. Nothing.

I swallow the lump and push forward.

“He can’t wait to see you,” I continue, forcing a smile, grasping at straws.

I want to grab her hand and lace her fingers with mine. I want to kiss her knuckles and press her hand against my chest. Have her feel my heart pound against my chest and know she’s the reason it beats. She’s the fucking rhythm.

I want to hold her in my arms.

I want to hold her so fucking badly.

But she clearly doesn’t want me touching her and that wrecks me.

It fucking destroys me.

She shakes her head and continues to stare at me with a befuddled expression. Her lips part and I wait on bated breath for her to say something.

To call my name.

To tell me she loves me.

That she forgives me.

Anything.

She gives me more of nothing as her eyes slowly rake over me as if she’s looking at me for the first time. With her eyes fixated on my kutte, it occurs to me that she’s probably wondering why I’m here with her and not locked away in a cell.

Before I can explain, she speaks and with every word she utters, she breaks my heart into a million little pieces.

“I don’t know who this man is,” she says, turning to the doctor. “I want my fiancée. I want Daniel.”

At the mention of my brother’s name, my heart stops. The world drops from under me. I stare at her in disbelief, wishing she’d take back the words. For none of this to be true. That it’s just another vicious joke manufactured by my twisted mind.

“Reina,” I say, clenching my jaw. “Reina, look at me,” I demand. “Fucking look at me, please!”

“Mr. Parrish—”

“Fuck you,” I sneer.

Bracing my hands on the railing of the hospital bed, I keep my eyes pinned to my wife who refuses to look at me. Traces of fear line her perfect features and the knife twists.

Deeper and deeper.

Cutting through the muscle, puncturing my organs.

Tearing me wide open.

“Reina, for the love of God, look at me,” I plead, my knuckles whitening around the rails.

I need her to look me in the eye so I can tell her I’m her husband. The man who breathes just to love her. The one who worships her body like it’s a temple. The keeper of all her scars. I want to shake her and tell her I’m her fucking home and she’s mine.

“I’m your husband,” I rasp hoarsely. “You hear me? I’m your fucking husband and Danny is our son…” My words trail as her head jerks. Wide eyes stare back at me in disbelief. “We named him after my brother, Daniel.”

“No,” she sobs, shaking her head profusely. “Stop!”

“Mr. Parrish, that’s enough,” one of the doctor’s yells. “I’m going to have to ask you to step outside. Please don’t make me call security.”

Biting the inside of my cheek, my fists tighten around the railings, threatening to rip them from the bed. I feel the doctor move to my side and I know I’m seconds away from being carted out of the room. Still, I remain rooted at Reina’s bedside, waiting for some kind of miracle.

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