Page 11 of The Thinnest Air
“What are you doing?” His expression relaxes, all hint of fury gone—like it was never there in the first place, like I imagined it. “You’re not leaving.”
I start toward him, searing pain and all. “Of course I am.”
Stepping toward me, he gathers the clothes from my arms and drops them on the ground by our feet. They land on the plush carpet with an unsatisfying thud.
“No, no,” he says, talking to me the way you would speak to a person about to jump from the top of a skyscraper. “You’re not going to do that. It’s not a good idea.”
A thick tear runs down my cheek.
Andrew wipes it away.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I don’t speak.
“I was in shock,” he continues, his voice soft, his gaze softer. “I didn’t choose my words ... I shouldn’t have reacted that way ... I didn’t mean to upset you.” He brushes a light strand of hair from my eyes. “I should’ve held you, comforted you. You’re my wife, Mer. You’re the love of my life. You were hurting, and all I could think about was myself. I was wrong ... forgive me?”
Our eyes hold for what feels like forever, but I can’t stop seeing his face from a few minutes ago. His twisted brows. His clenched jaw. His flaring nostrils. The subzero chill in his eyes.
He kisses me, his lips warm and gentle, his hands in my hair, but it doesn’t feel the same as before. It’s tainted, marred.
Andrew’s hands trail down my arms, stopping at my fingers and interlacing them with his. Kissing my forehead, he gives a slow, slight smile.
“We hadn’t talked about starting a family yet,” he says.
“It wasn’t planned.”
“I know,” he says, his head cocked as he peers down his perfect, straight nose at me. “Just be careful from now on, okay? You’re going to make the most beautiful mother ...someday. Until then, I want to enjoy what we have right now. Why rush it? It’s absolutely perfect, don’t you think?”
He lifts my hand to his mouth, depositing a lingering kiss, and I’m taken back to last night, when he whispered in my ear that his life finally felt perfect, and all I could think about was how muchmoreperfect it was going to be with the baby.
How wrong I was.
“I’m not ready to share you yet,” he says, maybe teasing, maybe not. “Sorry, but I’m keeping you all to myself for as long as possible.”
A week ago, those words would’ve sent a flutter of butterflies to my stomach and a warm fullness to my chest, but in this moment, I’m numb.
His words, his touch ... they do nothing for me.
“I’m going to lie down.” I pull my hands from his and turn back into the bedroom.
He lets me walk away, and I crawl beneath the mass of downy plush covers on our enormous bed. Rolling to my side, I shut my eyes and breathe in the lavender scent of our freshly washed-and-pressed sheets. His footsteps are soft on the carpet, and the soft creak of the door is followed by dead silence.
A short while later, my husband whispers in my ear. “Meredith.” I don’t know how long I’ve been lying here, and I hadn’t heard him come back. The bed dips on my side. “I brought you some water and something for the pain. Sit up.”
Opening my eyes, I roll toward him and push myself up. He fluffs the pillows behind me before dropping two matte-brown pills in my palm and handing me a glass of still water.
The light from our bathroom casts shadows on the wall, and I watch as he leaves my side and changes into a silk pajama set before climbing into bed.
“I canceled our reservations,” he says, moving close and placing his arm around me. He pulls me into the warm bend of his shoulder before resting his chin on top of my head. “I’m here for you, Mer. Anything you need.”
In this moment, I almost forget what happened earlier.
Almost.
CHAPTER 6
GREER
