Page 94 of Bad Husband

She knows what I’m referring to. Sedona and the shit show that was.

She nods, trying to remain calm, despite me being a jerk. “I know, but I want us to try again.”

Her face is etched in regret as she watches me, waiting for the denial she thinks is coming. When she closes her eyes, I want to pry them open again just so she can see what she put me through. But in some ways, she already sees it. It’s why she’s here, asking for me not to give up.

Her voice wavers when she says, “I mean it. If this isn’t what you want, I’ll give you the divorce, and we can work out a parenting plan,” she admits in that slow, drawn-out voice she has when she doesn’t like what she’s saying. I’m still hung up on the pretense of what she did, filing for divorce to get my attention when it really doesn’t mean anything. Regardless of the contents of the papers or what Madison wanted to prove, it’s still just a circumstance, one that opened my eyes to a lot of things.

I can’t be that angry with her. In a sense, and I don’t even like saying this, but I feel guilty she felt the need to resort to this, as if somehow I had something to do with it, and sadly I did. I’m her husband. She should have felt comfortable coming and talking to me.

I understood just like everyone else when you make a mistake, you’re usually harder on yourself than anyone else. And I know Madison. She probably spent every night these past few weeks trying to tell me what really happened.

“If you did this to get my attention, why did you say you didn’t love me?”

The color drains from her face. Maybe she knew I’d ask this eventually because even now those words remain in my head. I’ll never forget the way they punched my chest that night. Silence looms between us for a moment, my stomach churning with fear and anxiety.

“I didn’t mean it.” She bites her lip, her eyes dropping to the floor. “I just… I wasn’t sure what to do at that point. I panicked and said what I thought would get your attention.”

My face clouds with uneasiness. “Do you want this? Do you want there to be anus?” I ask, my stomach dipping for the unknown.

“Yes. I do.” The words are said with such affection I don’t doubt her.

I can feel my heart in my throat, much like the day she served me with the papers. “Then we try.”

MADISON AND I SLEEP on the floor in the new house that night. Well, I don’t know how much sleep is achieved, but we lie there and talk.

Sitting on the floor beside her, I wait for her to wake up and watch her sleep a little while. The sun is up, the morning sunlight warming me. I haven’t turned on the air conditioning yet, but damn, I need to soon.

When Madison finally does wake, she looks at me warily. Sitting up, her eyes shift from mine to my body and hands, searching my face for answers. I do the same, only hers don’t offer anything but the evidence of a rough night.

Now here we are. Two hearts, two souls, one outcome.

“I want to be married to you,” I say, leaning into her slightly, my hand on her cheek again. “I never wanted the divorce. I want you and Callan and Wolverine.” Madison lets out a laugh, her body shaking in the process. My hand moves to her stomach. “And this baby.”

Tilting my head and kissing the side of her neck and then her lips, I’m showing her exactly what I mean, the way I know how. Sex.

Don’t look at me like that. I’m just being honest here. It’s been like a fucking month.

“I’d say I’d like to knock you up again, but I already did that, so let’s just fuck on the floor and christen the house.”

She laughs, her hands on my shoulders pulling me into her. “You haven’t changed, have you?”

“No, not in that sense. I still want to fuck you, but I’ll give you some romance too.” And then I kiss her tenderly, with meaning and well, romance.

And then we have sex.

It’s not gentle, or slow; it’s actually pretty fucking passionate and rough, and everything Madison and I are. My eyes are fire, hands gripping her waist tightly.

It’s then I know our intentions, no longer deceitful, are pure, caught up with what our bodies and heart crave.

As I taste her lips, her tongue, we’re alive with temptation we can’t resist.

When we part, she doesn’t move for the longest time.

Her arms wrap around me, and I bury my head into her neck, letting out a shuddering sigh. I want more than just kissing, and I think she knows it.

“I’m sorry for so many things.”

“Me too,” I tell her, laying her down on the floor.

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