Love Is Louder (26 page)

We stop directly in front of the exit. He swings open the door, and the moment the night air hits my face, I feel as though I can breathe. My knees buckle, fatigue and alcohol taking a toll on my body as we walk through the empty parking lot. Catching me by the waist, he draws me into him as I try to steady myself. When I look up, he’s staring at me through unreadable golden brown eyes.

His arms tighten around me, bringing our bodies infinitely closer, his breath warming the skin on my neck. My heartbeat quickens by the way he holds me, possessive and confident. Only our breath and clothing separate us. I don’t speak or move away. A small part of me, the part that was humming with desire, wants to rebel, but my rational thought is clouded as I soak in his features. My breathing is erratic as his eyes linger on my lips a beat too long.

What is he thinking? Does he want to kiss me? Do I want him to kiss me?

I hear the loud thumping of my heart.

Please, stop, heart.

He doesn’t say anything when we separate, but he keeps looking at me as he walks beside me, slowly letting me lean into him as his hand settles on the small of my back. His eyes are constantly on me, and somehow we always find a way to touch each other. I believe my attraction to him isn’t one-sided.

He’s a friend now. It’s undeniable, but how far will this go? This is all it can be. A friendship.

“Are you okay to drive? I can drive you home. Let me drive you home.” He’s not asking; he’s demanding, as I fumble with my keys.

“No.”

“Yes, let me.” As he takes the keys from my hand, the warmth of his touch makes my pulse flutter.

“But my car—”

“Don’t worry about your car,” he interrupts. “I’ll take care of it. That’s the last thing you should be worried about.”

I relent. He’s right.

The drive is quiet except for John Mayer’s “Heartbreak Warfare” playing softly in the background as we pull up to my house where James’ black Range Rover is missing. The words of the song fill the cabin.
I dream of ways to understand my pain.
I wish James would just try to see what he’s doing to me, but he doesn’t know since I keep it all bottled up, pretending I don’t know what’s going on.

Mason’s company was needed tonight to fill the places inside me that are hollow, the places that throb with fear and loneliness. I don’t want to feel this way, not for another minute.

What does that mean?

Mason sighs deeply as he puts the car into park and kills the engine. Fidgeting in my seat and glancing at my phone, I attempt to pull my thoughts together. I grab the keys to the house from within my purse and sneak a look at Mason, finding he’s already watching me.

“He’s not here. Is he?”

“No.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry I told you all of that,” I murmur with an aching heart.

“Stop. Don’t ever apologize for that. I’m serious about what I said. If you ever feel like you need to talk to someone, I’m here.”

I shake my head and stare down at my lap. With his free hand, he lifts my chin and turns my face so that we’re eye to eye. I notice the stubborn expression on his face.

“The one thing that caught my eye about you is your smile and the blush in your cheeks. There’s no room for sadness in such a pretty face like yours.”

My face flushes red.

“I’m serious. I’m your friend. I’m here if you need me. For anything.”

I let the words soak into the saddest part of me.

“Thank…thank you for listening tonight,” I reply.

“Thank you for listening to me, too. Thank you for trusting me.”

After saying goodbye to Mason, I enter the empty house. Taking out my cell phone, I notice it’s almost midnight, and James hasn’t called. I don’t cry. I don’t throw anything. I don’t call him. Instead, I grab whatever alcohol is in the house, throw myself onto the couch, and wait for him.

“Can you hear me?” His voice is so close. I reach out to touch him, but all I feel is air. “Everything will be okay.”

“James?” I can smell the alcohol on his breath, and the alcohol on mine.

“Yes, it’s me. Do you remember?”

“Remember...” I croak. My mouth feels like cotton, and my body aches.

“Shh...It’s okay. Everything will be okay. Just close your eyes. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of everything.”

I blink a few times and try to focus on his voice and face. He looks at me like no man has ever looked at me, a hungry possessiveness in his stare. A prickle of fixation takes root in my belly, a familiar feeling. I focus on the cute dimple in his cheek as he carries me into the bedroom and lays me onto the bed.

“Go to sleep, Brie. I’ll take care of everything. Everything is going to be just fine. I promise.”

The first thing that hits me when I crack open my eyes is the steady pounding of my brain. I roll over, noticing that James is not in bed. Turning my head toward the bathroom, the sound of running water pacifies my ears. I breathe a broken breath. He’s here. I pull a pillow over my throbbing head and slowly close my aching eyelids, thinking about what I saw yesterday.

What do I do? Tell him what I saw? Pretend it didn’t happen?

A part of me is telling me I’m overreacting. I don’t even know what time he came home. How did I get in bed? The last thing I remember is finishing off a half-empty bottle of vodka and waiting for him.

“James,” I murmur. I actually saw him with another woman, and it brings everything rushing back. I glance at the alarm clock that reads eight-fifteen AM. I sit up, throw my legs over the edge of the bed, and let my feet hit the icy floor. The water continues running, and the impulse to go the other way hits me, but I want to be close to him at the same time.

I ease open the bathroom door, and a thick rush of steam wraps me in a haze. I notice his silhouette behind the glass. I step closer to him with the image of him touching her and knowing he lied to me about what he was doing.

How long has this been going on, and why did he tell me he wanted to try when he obviously is spending time with another woman and not me?

“Fuck. Play dumb,” I whisper as I stand at the shower door, resting my palm on the glass and tracing his silhouette with my finger before I open it, letting a cool draft of air infiltrate the space.

Frigid.

My heart.

His heart.

“Brie?”

He turns, pushing his hair away from his face. He’s so striking. So devious.

“How are you feeling?” He takes my hand and pulls me into the shower. “Let me take this off.”

“No, James …” I trail off, still hazy from last night as I try to pull away.

“Brie…baby.” He steps to me and slips both straps of the silk nightie off my shoulders so that it falls down my body. As soon as my nightie hits the floor, he draws me into him. “Are you okay?” He peppers kisses on my neck.

“I’m fine.” I whimper, falling limp into his arms. My mind is heavy with so many thoughts I don’t have it in me to stand on my own two feet anymore.

“You need to stop drinking.”

“You were late.” I stare directly into his eyes, searching for something.

“I’m sorry, B. The golf game took longer than expected, and we went out for drinks later. I lost track of time. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

Promise. Promise. Promise.

“James, I…” I fight the overpowering urge to cry and to strike him.

“What?” His voice lowers, and his heated stare burns me while his hands snake around my waist.

“Are you happy?”

He takes a step backward, shaking his head. He brings his hand up to cradle my face, capturing my eyes again with his. “Yes,” he rasps before he places a chaste kiss to my lips.

Wisps of steam float around our bodies, masking the tears that want to spill from my afflicted eyes. He covers his mouth with mine. I wrap my arms around his neck, needing to cling to something, anything as his tongue darts between my lips.

“Brie.” He pushes me gently against the wet tiles as the warm water steadily streams down our hot bodies. When it comes to James, the barrier with which I disguise my uncertainties is absent. My mind and heart are conflicted, pulling me every which way. I open my mouth, wanting to tell him, but I smother my voice deep inside my throat, knowing if I do open it, I won’t be able to stop myself from crying.

He shifts closer to me, pressing his hard length against my willing body. I move my hands along his torso and downward, needing the connection with the man I married, when I know I should be running the other way. He spreads my legs with his knees as he trails his fingers down my sensitive skin.

“God, B. You drive me fucking crazy,” he says before he licks the valley between my breasts, tenderly tracing his hands down my arms. He lifts his hips, grinding his erection against my sex. “Can you feel how much I want you?”

Where is this passion coming from? Does he feel guilty? Does the other woman bring it out of him? Is that who he’s thinking about? Is this the reason he came back to me?

I don’t want to believe this display of emotion stems from him being with another woman. The thought repulses me. He came back because he wants me and only me. It’s not because of her. I dismiss my doubts, yearning for his touch. I need something. Something I felt last night when he wasn’t there, when I was spending time with another man.

“I want you just as badly.” I breathe softly against his mouth as he runs his finger along the edge of my jaw. I let the beat of his heart soothe me, filling me with bittersweet hope.

Can we really get through this? All of this? Is it too much? Are we strong enough?

I’m holding on to what we can have together, but at times, it feels like for dear life. I can’t let on that I know what he’s doing, so I let him take me because I’ve always found more joy in giving than receiving. I don’t know any other way to be. I have to change. We have to change. Something has to change.