1. Ana
ANA
H e’s already dressed, skipping breakfast and heading out the door. Every weekend has been like this. I barely see my husband in the blur of busy days and tired nights.
I wish we could go back to the Golden Coast. To barefoot walks on the sandy beach and times when kisses came easily. Nearly a decade ago, back to the days when Tristan always held my hand. We slept in and cuddled in bed, which always led to more.
Back to the days I was shy to kiss him before brushing my teeth – because back then we would kiss first thing in the morning.
“You’re already going?” I ask Tristan as he pours from the pot of coffee into a thermal tumbler with the company logo on it. I blame his work for all of these emotions that keep me up at night, his side of it cold and empty.
Standing in our kitchen, the granite counters clear of clutter except for a single pile of mail, mostly containing bills, and a vase that’s been empty since Valentine’s day last year, my husband looks up at me. Sympathy echoes in his piercing blue eyes and when he swallow, the cords in his neck go tight. It makes the stubble on his jaw look all the sexier. “I have to Honey.” I’ll always melt at that nickname.
I’m a sucker for him. He had me the first night he ever laid eyes on me. Tall, broad shoulders that make even a plain white tee shirt look divine on him… I never had a chance with this man.
“I made you coffee though,” he offers as if I’d rather have a cup of joe than him. My bare feet pad on the dark gray tiled floors as I make my way to him. They’re cold and that makes me all the warmer when he holds me in his arms. Nestling my head against his shoulder, I take in the smell of his cologne, and the feel of his muscular chest as he kisses the crown of my head.
“I wish they’d never sold the company,” I say just beneath my breath.
Four years ago, his company sold to another. Nearly everyone lost their jobs. We were the lucky ones because they transferred my husband. He kept his job, but it moved him three states away for most of the week.
My heart squeezes when he doesn’t say anything other than, “me too.”
I hate how little I see him. I hate that I’m stuck here, with a teaching job I worked my ass off to get, so I barely see my husband. I should be grateful and for a while I was. But distance makes things harder and time can change anything.
“Are you sure you have to go?” I question him when he releases me. I tighten the sash on my robe and fold my arms over my chest.
Years ago, at the Golden Coast, he held my hand on our honeymoon and told me he’d love me forever. I love this man with everything in me, but I don’t know how much longer we can survive this.
“I have to. I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t have to.”
My throat’s tight when I nod in understanding.
It’s a Saturday and I’m in nothing but a robe, while he’s fully dressed in a slate gray suit. I want to sleep in and kiss him and love him, to feel him in ways I’ve desperately been missing. And he says he has to go to work.
“Will you be home for dinner?” I question, finding it hard to keep his questioning gaze.
“Of course,” his answer comes out with a careful cadence. Like he knows something’s wrong. “You okay?” he questions.
“I miss you,” I admit my voice cracking; but he already knows I miss him. It’s gotten harder to be away from him, not easier.
“Let me take you out to dinner tonight,” he offers. “A date night. Like we used to do.”
Hope flutters in my chest, and a smile slips onto my lips until he adds, “I just have a few things to wrap up.”
Late nights and constant work comes with who Tristan is. He’s always been this way.
“I’ll see you tonight then,” I answer, closing the distance, getting up on my tip toes to plant a kiss on his lips.
I don’t expect his hand to splay on my lower back, keeping me pinned to him or for him to deepen the kiss. But, oh how I love it. His teeth scrape gently against my bottom lip until I part my lips for me, granting him entry. The warmth spreads through me, from my tippy toes all the way up to my cheeks where I can feel a blush blooming.
When he breaks the kiss, he whispers in the way air between us, “Love you for always.”
I love him for always too. That’s why this hurts so much. It wouldn’t, if I didn’t love him the way I do.