Page 6 of Love Beyond Repair
His body stiffens. A veil of disapproval falls. “Before or after?”
“After.”
“Hell, Ben.” His eyes harden. “Aren’t things complicated enough without resurrecting old ghosts?” He pauses. “You made your choice ten years ago.”
He’s right. I did. And I’ve been punishing myself since I walked away. The worst part is—it didn’t feel like cheating. Not really. It felt like taking my first breath in a long time.
“Is she worth blowing it all up for? Burning your life to the ground?” he asks. “Kelsey won’t disappear. She’ll come back to wanting to be a family. She’s threatening, like she has before.” Sometimes I’m surprised by how much I’ve told him, what he remembers, and all the other parts he’s worked out for himself.
“I wouldn’t want her to disappear. She’s the mother of my children. She wanted this separation…”
Eamon takes a sip of his drink, then pins me with a stare.
“You and I both know that’s a lie. Kelsey flexed her muscles, and you bit. Now, you need to ask yourself if what you desire is worth the risk. Can those two realities co-exist side by side?”
The risk. My kids. My world. My home. Is it worth the risk to reunite with Bex? My heart screams yes, while my head says no. That’s assuming she would even want to try again after I let her down so badly.
If you asked me before Saturday, I’d have said no. I’ve downplayed my feelings for years. But now I’ve tasted her again, I’m not sure I can let go. But I can’t lose my kids. That’s a non-negotiable, and Kelsey’s threatened before. She’s met with a lawyer, had it put in writing. If we go our separate ways, she wants it all.
I’m lost in my thoughts about my wayward behavior as we play our last game in silence. Neither of us saying anything, but the uncertainty is heavy in the room. We both know there’s no right or wrong answer, and I’m not the one in charge. I promised to support her forever, and I’ll stand by her until she says otherwise.
After we play our last move, I make my way through to the guest bedroom. Kelsey lies on her side, facing away from the door, chestnut curls splayed across her pillow, and her eyes closed in a deep sleep.
To avoid lying beside her, I take a shower. Under the hot water, I relax, and my mind wanders back to Bex. I close my eyes, and I’m back there. In the bar, with her, on Saturday night.
We’d both been incredibly drunk, fawning over each other, making no secret of our attraction. She took me by the hand and dragged me outside like we were twenty again. Our mouths collided as soon as we felt the fresh air. Desperate. Needy. Her lips tasted of gin and something I couldn’t name. Euphoria, perhaps?
Even after all these years, it felt like home. As if I was finding my person once more. She’s the cliché one that got away. The girl I should never have left in the first place.
I’d walked her home, and I’d stayed. Even though I knew I shouldn’t. But I couldn’t stop myself. The opportunity to relive the past was too tempting.
I told myself it was one night. A mistake. But even now, my fingers ache to touch her again. Shame coils low in my stomach. I should have walked away, but I didn’t. It was a moment I wanted, and that makes it worse.
Chapter four
Kelsey
Keeping up this façade is exhausting, playing happy families even more tedious. Together, Ben and I work. We have a lovely home and beautiful children. One hundred percent, the successful family to those looking from the outside. We are what people envy. What they dream of being as young lovers, planning for their futures. And here I am dying of boredom.
We’re separated. I was the one who asked for it. Like I had so many times before, using it as a threat. I stood, watching him as the words left my lips, then waited for his U-turn. For him to start begging not to do it for the girls, for all the years we’ve been together, and what we’veachieved. But this time, he didn’t argue. He just moved his things to the spare room without so much as a pushback.
And I panicked. I need to change tack to make him stay.
He thinks this baby was an accident. One reckless night and poor timing. But it wasn’t, I made sure of that. I stopped taking the pill and never told him. Because I wasn’t ready to let him go, not until I got my baby boy. The last thing I wanted was two baby daddies, but I wasn’t willing to live with an incomplete family. He pushed me into this with his demand that we have no more children.
I’ve worked hard for this life, and I intend to keep the benefits by any means necessary. That was the agreement. He would chase his career, and I would keep house, exactly as I wanted it. No matter how we feel now, I’m not prepared for that to change.
Thinking back to the beginning, when we were full of teenage hormones and couldn’t keep our hands off one another, our time was filled with stolen kisses and loved-up moments. That initial lust was addictive. A drug, and I couldn’t get enough. I was drunk on his obsession with me. The way he held my hand, kissed my cheek, and whispered tales of what our life would be like in my ear.
Between the ages of sixteen and twenty were the happiest years of my life. We studied hard, we were ambitious. The world stood no chance against us. Our path was mapped out; it could only go one way, and that was to follow the plan.
When we moved on to university, we lived separately, but didn’t grow apart. We talked every day for hours and supported each other through our darkest days. The hours were long and the experience hard, but it’s what we both needed. When we met up, we laughed and made love, nurturing one another, feeding what was missing when we were apart. It was our routine, both familiar and safe. But familiarity doesn’t keep the fire alive, and it started to dwindle.
As trainee doctors and nurses, there was incredible pressure during our final year; the realization we’d soon be saving lives was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. I fed off the adrenaline of a shift in the emergency room. That buzz you get when someone’s life was on the line, and you played your part in pulling them through. Hooking up that essential IV line or administering CPR at the crucial moment. It fed my soul and my confidence.
It was during one of those shifts I met Sam, a newly qualified nurse on my team. He was tall with soft brown curls and the deepest hazel eyes. Sam had a kindness about him. When he spoke to our patients, it was with love and genuine consideration. It was the first time in months I felt truly seen.
Being a male nurse, he was in the minority. It was obvious as I got to know him, he was smart, and I asked him once why he nursed instead of being a doctor.
