Page 84 of Doing It for Love

My two-ton heart stops. “What?”

“I’m not doing that anymore. Once I get a job, that’ll be it. I’ll stay there and work my way up or whatever normal shit people do and we’ll have medical benefits and I can have paid days off and a nine-to-five schedule which makes sense for a family and for marriage and for you, so if macaroni gets spilled again we don’t have to worr…What the hell are you doing?”

My shirt falls to the floor, and I go to yank off my bra, getting tangled in the straps. “I’m undressing. What does it look like I’m doing?”

His gaze flicks down when I finally free myself from the bra. I start on my jeans’ zipper and he says, “Sorry, Liz, but I’m not exactly in the mood.”

I puff out a derisive snort. Like I’m in the mood either. But I twist my underwear off, kicking my clothes away with as much force as I can muster. “If you want to yell at me, you’re going to have to yell at me while I’m naked.”

His eyes narrow. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

He practically tears the buttons off his shirt before it leaves his body. “Fine.”

“Fine.” My arms cross as my eyes drift to his zipper as he struggles to get out of his clothes as fast as I got out of mine. He shoves his slacks and boxers to his ankles, straightens, and echoes my crossed-arm stance.

“Okay,” I say. “Have at it.”

He pauses, biting his bottom lip while I see the corners of his mouth twitch and twitch like he’s desperately trying not to smile. I have to force my own laugh back. Finally Jace has some valid advice, and the whole situation makes my voice come out less harsh than it has been.

“You’re not allowed to give up everything you want just for me.”

“I wantyou. Just you.” His arms drop, and he plays with the back of his hat, the only clothing he’s still wearing. His eyes are desperately focused on mine, like it’s taking so much effort not to stare directly at my boobs. “I want you to be happy.” His voice is soft now. “And I want to give you what you want in life.”

“Then do it.” My arms fall to my sides, hitting my hips. “But don’t give up anything for yourself in the process. Whatever you want, I want thatforyou. It would suck if we look back twenty years from now and you resented me because the world was at your fingertips and then you got married.”

“Same goes for you.” There’s a tiny twitch in the corner of his mouth, so small I wouldn’t have noticed it if the light wasn’t hitting him in the right spot. He pulls one foot out of his clothing, followed by the other as he steps toward me. My heart makes itself known again, lighter now, drumming an unsteady beat in my chest. He’s closer, and I don’t know what I’ll do if he completely closes the distance. I’m still royally pissed. But I can’t seem to care.

Landon stops a breath away. “My dream is unrealistic. It’s never going anywhere, I’m never going to make money off it, and if I don’t get my ass a steady job we’ll live in this apartment forever and you won’t get that house in the suburbs. Whatever kids we have we’ll be struggling to feed. I can’t force you to wait for something that won’t happen.”

“It will—”

“Becoming a director?” He cuts me off with a short laugh. “Making movies? Living in Hollywood, going to premieres, doing interviews on television? How unrealistic does that sound? It doesn’t happen to normal people.”

“You’renotnormal.” I push my fingers against his, slowly interlocking them, and squeeze twice at the exact time he does. “You’re extraordinary. And I will not let you give up.”

The twitch of his smile grows. “So…we’re basically arguing over who gets to be more selfless in this marriage.”

I smile, too. “Basically.”

He shakes his head with a small laugh and pulls me by the back of my neck up to his lips. I pull his baseball cap off, tossing it with the rest of our clothes. Damn, I’ve missed him, even though he didn’t deserve to have been missed. Yet I open my mouth wider, invite him in, press against his warm chest, and drown in the reunion.

He’s very careful to keep his hands off the goods as he rubs them down my sides, over my hips, and to my upper thighs to coax me on his waist. I resist a little, because as sweet as it is to have him home, and as much as I love him, I’m still upset he felt the need to leave in the first place.

I hop into his arms anyway.

He braces himself on the mattress as he lowers us onto the comforter, still kissing me with the deepest of kisses, both of us gasping for air every time we part. I’m thinkingYes! We still got it.But I’m also thinking I need to hear words before we go anywhere. I need the “sorry”s and the “I love you”s and “I’ll never do this again.” And it bugs me that he’s not saying anything.

Sex used to be an apology all in itself. Now has it become a reward? Why is it not good enough for me anymore?

“Liz?”

“Mmm?” I lilt, hoping an apology is forthcoming.

He gives me a strained grin, then falls into the sheets.

“Iwannayousarewonmumph.”

---