Page 9 of Through The Rain
“Do you know what the worst part of your day is?” he asked, and she opened her eyes as she shook her head. “I do. It’s when you realize I’m home from work.”
“No,” she said immediately, because that he was wrong about.
“I try not to take it personally,” he continued. “You’ve only been home from work for a half-hour or so, and barely had time to take a breath. Then me getting home means it’s time to move on to talking about any mail that came and anything that happened at school and getting dinner on the table, and then arguing with the kids about cleaning up and chores and if they’ve done their laundry. Even though they’re older now, it hasn’t changed. The arguments are different, but still ongoing. Me getting home signals that the most tiring part of your day is about to start and it shows. Like I said, I try not to let it bother me, but every day when I walk through that door, I know you’re not happy to see me.”
The truth of what he was saying washed over her, and tears gathered in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m really not. But it’s not just me. Or you. It’s both of us. We broke and I don’t know how to fix it.”
“For the last three months, every day between five and five-thirty, I get this sense of melancholy—like there’s a void I can’t fill. At first I thought it was because it gets dark so early in the winter, but I figured out pretty quickly it’s because I’m waiting for you to walk through the door and you won’t be. I wish I had known then what it would feel like now.”
“It’s just the way it is, Em. Running into a friend and having a meal is nothing. There are no expectations or needs or demands. You share a meal, you laugh, you move on. But us? We shared an entire life—house, jobs, kids, everything—and we had to…we had to draw from each other’s wells.”
“And we ran the wells dry.” She didn’t make it a question because the answer was obvious.
“There was a look on your face when you told me you wanted out that terrified me. I could see that you were really done—that it was over—and you were waiting for me to say something. I was confused and scared because I couldn’t believe it was happening and I was trying to think of something to say to fix it and I—”
“You said fine.”
“And I’ll be sorry about it until the day I die, because I should have said what was actually in my head even if it was a mess.”
She could see his turmoil in the jerky way his head moved and the gruffness of his voice. And maybe it was her imagination, but she thought there was a sheen of moisture in his eyes. She wanted him to keep talking. “What was in your head?”
“No, this can’t be happening because I love you and I’m sorry I’m not enough but I’ll try if you stay and please, please don’t leave me.” He stopped, clearing his throat before looking at the ceiling and blinking. After a long moment, he lowered his gaze to hers again. “That’s what I was feeling, and what I should have said. It was not fine. I am not fine. Not for one single second has any of this been fine.”
Emily stood, not sure why—maybe she wanted to comfort him or maybe just too much emotion coursed through her to let her sit still anymore. And now that she was standing, with tears streaming down her cheeks, she didn’t know what to do.
CHAPTER 5
When Scott stood and stepped around the table, Emily didn’t move. She wasn’t sure she could, even if she wanted to. And when he pulled her into his arms, she didn’t resist.
Her heart pounded, and she wasn’t sure if it was she or Scott who trembled—or maybe it was both of them. When her arms went around his waist, she felt the breath he’d been holding rush out of him and closed her eyes. Inhaling deeply, she savored the familiar scent of him.
Her fingers curled, bunching the fabric of his shirt in her fists. “Scott, I—”
The words choked off and she buried her face against his chest. She didn’t know what to say. There was no way to even unpack everything she was feeling, never mind explain it to him. Hope. Fear. Joy. Love. Doubt. It felt as if the full range of her emotions had been turned into the glitter in a snow globe. And by wrapping his arms around her, Scott had given that snow globe a good, hard shake.
He didn’t push for her to finish the sentence. He just held her until she relaxed against him.
But as the tension eased from her muscles, his seemed to tighten under her touch. She could feel his heart pounding under her cheek and the way his breaths were coming harder and faster. She started to pull away, afraid she’d upset him somehow, but he took her chin between his thumb and finger and tilted her face up.
When their eyes met, she could see his intent in their dark depths. He waited for two breaths, then three—long enough for her to pull back or turn her face away—and then his lips were on hers.
The kiss was hard, almost punishing, as if he was claiming her mouth. He hadn’t kissed her like that in years, and she thrust her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck. Her body came alive, and she wanted more. She wanted all of him, and she didn’t care what that did to the glitter storm of her feelings. His tongue slid over hers as his hands ran down her back to cup her ass.
Emily had needed this for so long. Not the sex. They’d still made love on a fairly regular basis. But this raw hunger and overwhelming passion had been missing for what felt like years.
When Scott broke off the kiss, she couldn’t hold back the sound of dismay, and she pressed her fingertips to her lips.
“Emily, I—” He stepped back, running his hand over his hair and not looking her in the eye. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that.”
“Actually, you should have always been kissing me like that,” she said, trying for humor, but she didn’t even get a chuckle out of him.
“You’re not mine to kiss anymore.”
That hurt, even though it was technically true, and a decision she had made. “I don’t understand how you can still want to kiss me.”
“Of course I want to kiss you.”
