Page 55 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
“No!” she shouted.
“It’s me, Naomi.”
“No!”
“Baby…” I slipped my hands over her face, and her eyes flew open. I dropped my hands to her shoulders as she took in her surroundings before landing on me. For a moment, she looked terrified.
“Christian?”
“You’re in Tuscany. You’re safe.”
She blinked rapidly, her breathing gradually slowing as reality reasserted itself. “I was dreaming.”
“About Gerald.”
She pulled away from my touch, wrapping her arms around herself. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“Are you okay?”
“I'm fine.”
My eyes dropped to the tremble coming from her. Even in the darkness, I could see that she wasn’t fine.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
She turned away from me, facing the French doors where moonlight streamed through the glass.
I was torn between giving Naomi space to process whatever demons had visited her dreams and wanting to protect her from those dreams. But while I considered, I couldn’t make myself walk away.
Instead, I moved around to the other side of the bed, slipping under the covers behind her. She stiffened when she felt the mattress dip.
“Christian...”
“Let me hold you.”
I drew her to me, but she was rigid in my arms for a long moment. Then, gradually, she began to relax, her body melting into mine.
We lay there in silence, both wide awake, listening to each other breathe. I could feel the tension in her shoulders, the way she was fighting some internal battle.
“He still calls sometimes,” she said. “Still trying to convince me none of our troubles were his fault.”
I pressed my face into her hair, offering comfort through touch since words seemed inadequate.
“He was a plumber, but he couldn’t keep a job. There was always some crisis, some emergency that required me to fix it. Money problems, legal problems, bail money.” Her voice was flat, emotionless. “I thought that’s what love was. Fixing people—helping.”
My arm tightened around her waist.
“He cheated on me. Repeatedly. With different women, and I kept forgiving him because I thought that’s what wives do. I thought love meant enduring anything.”
That’s when it hit me that Gerald was her husband—ex-husband.
“What made you decide to leave?”
She was quiet for so long, I thought she might not answer.
“I brought another woman into our bed. I was so desperate to save our marriage, to give him what he said he needed, that I...” Her voice broke. “I thought if I could be everything he wanted, he’d stop looking for it elsewhere.”
