Page 35 of Second Best Again
Sage rubbed the sleep from her eyes and hugged herself. She had a vague impressions of a nightmare...something to do withDavid. She shook it off and reached for her robe at the foot of the bed before sliding her feet into her old slippers. The familiar weight of her things slowed her panicked heart more than anything else. Her bladder reminded her that it couldn't hold on much longer, and her joints were stiff as she shuffled to the toilet. Then after finger-combing her hair, she followed the smell of coffee downstairs.
The expensive drip filter coffee machine was already on.
Ronin sat at the island, shoulders hunched, nursing what looked like a second cup. He stood abruptly when she entered.
"Sage," he whispered.
She gave him a small nod and retreated to the machine. The cupboard still held her mismatched mugs. She chose the sunflower one, filled it, and padded back to sit opposite him.
She sipped. "So..."
"So," he echoed, clearing his throat. "I just wanted to talk before things get busy."
She thought about the DNA test. He meantthat.
"What's the point?" he went on, voice rough. "The test is today. But it's not going to make a difference, is it?"
Sage lifted her gaze, then set it on the steam rising from her mug. "Ronin, I've loved you for more than half my life. We've been good together. But—" Her voice caught. She forced herself to look up and face something she had been putting off for too long. "I've always felt that if things hadn't gone down the way they did with Mia, we would never have happened."
His silence urged her on, his attention more focused than it had been in years.
"You know the little biscuit box in the back of our closet? The hidden one with all the photographs? Yeah, you know the one," she said at last. " I had this silly game—I'd leave it in a certain position. Then, I'd check to see if it had moved." Her fingers tightened around the mug. "Almost every week it did, that yearbefore David went to school. A hard year that was, wasn't it, with us planning for another child and nothing working? And then we found out about your low sperm counts, and you just withdrew from me for a little while. I didn't know what was wrong. I knew you were looking at those old photos, being sad. Don't tell me it was just reminiscing about college days. Let's be honest; you wanted to escape into the past. "
Her eyes lifted, pools of stormy charcoal. "Then, one week after we decided to stop the IVF, it stayed put. And then it stayed that way for months. And I thought that it was just that place we were at. Maybe you'd finally...finally moved on."
Ronin's face was tortured. The silence between them throbbed with the painful things yet to be said. There were new lines at the corners of his eyes, fine etchings of time and regret. Once, she would have kissed them away. His face had been beloved to her for so long that often, she'd feel lucky he had chosen her at all.
But he hadn't felt the same, had he?
“I had hoped time and time again that you would just throw it away,” she whispered almost to herself.
The grey that threaded through his temples caught the light, making him look older and more devastatingly handsome in a way that still hurt to look at. The moss-green sweater he wore set off the flecks in his eyes, the same eyes that had once been her anchor. She always knew he would age well, just like his dad did. His dad had his faults and he had never approved of them being together, but he had never been unkind to her face, right until the day he died.
This was the problem with loving someone more than you were loved back. You are the one who sells yourself short every single time.
He swallowed, his voice like waves on jagged rock, breaking the quiet. "Sage... I didn't know." Ronin's eyes were wet as his grip on his mug tightened.
Sage lowered her gaze to her mug, steam curling against her face, then drew in a breath. "After that first time our wedding got cancelled," she said softly, "I thought it was just a matter of time before we got married. I really did. But there was always something or the other in the way. And no, I'm not blaming you." Her lips curved in a sad half-smile. "I was never decisive. I didn't want to rock the boat. I didn't stand up for myself because I was afraid of losing you."
Her eyes flickered up, catching the flicker of guilt on his face before dropping again. "Do you know what your mother said that Christmas...the first one after my mum died? David was still breastfeeding, and I was all over the place. We were staying over, and I had just had a crying jag—I don't remember what brought it on. She followed me upstairs while you were doing something else, and there was this expression on her face. Then she said maybe it was for the best that the wedding had been postponed...that it would give us time to be sure we were...compatible."
"Who does that? I was grieving my mum and struggling with the new baby." She gave a soft, incredulous laugh. "After so many years together, after a baby, she still thought we needed to be sure. But that is not what hurts the most."
Her voice cracked. "You just came in as she said that. You heard her, and you didn't say anything. No, you just stood there, letting me swallow it. And every time I tried to bring marriage up again, this line would appear between your brows, your shoulders would go stiff, and I"—she pressed her hand flat against the table, trembling—"I would drop it like the coward I am. Because I didn't have a job, and I was afraid that I would lose David if it came down to a separation. At this point, there's no point in hiding any of this."
Sage's truth hung between them, fragile and brutal all at once. She stared into her coffee, watching the swirl of cooling cream, anything to avoid those eyes.
At last, his quiet voice broke through the silence. "Sage...don't call yourself a coward."
He scrubbed a hand down his face, but the wetness lingered, bright in the corners of his eyes. "I should have said something. I should have... God, I should have done so many things differently."
For the first time in years, his gaze locked onto hers without flinching, raw and stripped bare. "You weren't the coward; it was me. This is all on me."
Chapter 27
He was quiet for a long while, staring down at his hands as though the words had to be wrestled out of him. At last, his voice broke the silence, agonized and low.
"I've made so many mistakes...not just with you, Sage, but with David, too. These last weeks made everything I chose to ignore so very clear. I didn't value what I had. I asked things of David no child should ever carry. My mistakes should never have come between the two of you."
