Chapter Three Laney
CHAPTER THREE
LANEY
Before I could answer, Connor held up his hands and smiled.
“Your dad legit asked me for help. He saw me standing outside, and I couldn’t turn him down.”
Connor wore jeans and a nice sweater. No gloves, no hat, no coat.
“Why were you outside?”
“Fair question.” He flashed a tight smile at me. “My dad called, and I needed air after that conversation. You know how he is.”
I sure did. His dad was emotionally abusive, but every time I brought it up, Connor would deflect or defend him out of loyalty.
After a while, Connor stopped mentioning his father altogether because it would lead to an argument.
Yet another example of why we didn’t belong together anymore.
Despite my initial shock of seeing him here, and the burst of joy from being in his presence, the familiar dread filled me. “Let’s get this tree inside.”
“I’m thinking we cut off one of the branches.” He pointed to the right, where a three-inch branch was stuck against the frame. “Does he have a saw? I can do it fast, so he can’t stop me.”
“Do you know how to use a saw, Connor?” I rummaged through my dad’s pseudo-shop area and pulled out the handheld.
He owned the local hardware store and always had a large stockpile at home.
My parents made me trim our trees and rosebushes growing up.
I even learned enough basic woodworking that I sometimes built my own sets for photography events.
My backgrounds for photo booths were one of my cool selling points.
“I know how to saw a branch off, Laney.” His tone bit, his usual arrogance leaking out. He was confident and used to being good at everything, yet I couldn’t recall a single time he’d used a saw.
“I don’t mind.” I walked up to the trunk, but he stilled me with his hand on my waist. The warmth of his palm caused my breath to hitch.
“What?”
“You have an event this weekend. I don’t want you to hurt your hands, even though I know you know how. This isn’t about your skills, but me trying to protect you.” He held my stare, enunciating every word as his gaze heated. “Let me do this one thing, please.”
“Fine.” I handed him the saw and stepped back.
I didn’t need to be this close to him. His cologne lingered in the air, and his unshaven look was my weakness.
I loved the scruff and lumberjack look when his beard grew out.
It paired so well with his thick hair. His broad shoulders filled out the beige sweater, and I fisted my hands to prevent myself from rubbing them over his pecs.
In another world, where we went back to the old versions of ourselves, I’d tease the hell out of him with small touches all night. Then, once we were alone, he’d unleash and spend hours touching me. It had been weeks since we had sex, and while sex was never our issue, it wasn’t enough.
“There.” Connor tossed the branch on the floor, and then we easily pushed the tree through the frame.
“We can get this monstrosity set up for your dad, then I’ll head out. I promise.”
Everything felt so familiar, and different, as we hoisted the tree into the stand in my parents’ living room. It made me remember our first holiday as husband and wife as if it were yesterday.
“I feel like I got the better end of the deal.” Connor held my hips, a huge smile on his face as he swirled me around in my parents’ living room. “Your family is so welcoming. Your parents are… they’ve just taken to me like I’m one of theirs.”
“They love you.” I beamed. “It’s so easy to, husband.”
“God, I love hearing you call me that. Say it again, wife.” His eyes heated, and that always made my knees weak. I was completely smitten and in love and delirious with happiness. I fell forward, and he caught me.
“Breathe, baby.”
“Sometimes I forget around you.” I blushed and ran my hands over his pecs and stomach, loving that we were married.
From the moment I met Connor, I fell hard and knew he was special.
Our connection and chemistry were magnetic, and it only deepened the more we talked.
Marrying him was the easiest decision in the world.
“You know what?” I asked, smiling at the joy on his face. He loved my ideas, even if they were silly. He’d be on board just because it made me happy. “We should start our own holiday tradition. Something random. Wild. Weird. Something just for us that we can do every year.”
“Oh, like… a naked tradition?”
I rolled my eyes. “Stop it. No, like maybe we make a holiday ornament for each other? Or we do an adventure calendar? Or we visit every pancake place within an hour?”
“Oh, okay, I like this.” He rubbed his thumbs over my hips, right to left, the mere contact on my skin making me squirm.
“We could vow to find a different coffee shop every year and visit it. There have to be a hundred of them in the city. We’ll never run out.”
“Yes! And we can buy a mug from each one!”
“I love you so fucking much.” He yanked me against him and kissed me hard. “Merry Christmas, Laney. Here’s to forever.”
I stared at the upright tree, my eyes prickling as the memory blurred into the present.
“What should we do with the mugs?”
He tilted his head to the side, giving him the puppy-dog look I adored. “The mugs?”
“Our holiday tradition. Do you want to split the mugs, or do you want to get rid of them?”
“Christ.” He pinched his nose. “We’re not getting rid of our mugs, Laney. They stay together. They were meant to stay together.”
Was he talking about us or the actual mugs? I wasn’t sure. I yawned. It was emotionally exhausting to be near him.
“We can talk about the mugs later. You need to get some rest. Your event is on Friday, right? Do you want a ride there?” he asked.
A part of me loved this attention. When we first got married, he loved driving me to events.
He was my biggest cheerleader and would create a playlist based on the theme of the event.
That stopped four years ago when work became too busy, and while I understood life changed, I missed his consideration.
Right now his offering didn’t change a thing.
“I should be able to drive myself.”
“Right.” He swallowed hard. “I’ll head to the rental. Have a good night.”
I nodded, my stomach twisting into a pretzel.
This was painful. Neither one of us wanted him to leave, but he had to.
It was too little too late. The silence grew, each second causing the ache in my chest to double.
Connor stared at me, the indecision on his face matching mine.
His chest heaved, and he kept cracking his knuckles.
I had to be strong. Sophia told me he’d be hard to resist, that he’d try to fix this. Boy, was she right.
“Good—”
“I’m not going away. I just… need you to know that.
I’ll leave and go sleep alone, wishing I was next to you, but I’m not leaving.
We’re not getting rid of our fucking mugs.
You are my wife.” He exhaled and marched toward the door.
“I love you, Laney, and I’m so sorry you felt like the only option was to walk away. I’ll fix it. Just wait.”
He didn’t look back before walking out the front door, leaving me to sit with his parting words.
You are my wife.
I loved hearing that. I loved the fierceness, the protectiveness, the desire in those words, but words were just that. I plopped down face-first on the couch, moaning into the pillow. I came here to avoid him.
“Not you too.” My mom joined me in the living room, her tone amused. “You and your dad are whining, and I’m too old to deal with whiny children.”
“I broke my ass, woman!” My dad’s voice carried from upstairs, making me laugh.
“Your father is a handful. Did Connor leave?”
“Yes, Mom. Why else would I be whining face down on the couch? My husband keeps showing up when I’m trying to leave him. It’s quite annoying.”
“He looked miserable.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“Always yours.” She patted my back and ran her fingers through my hair. “Decorating this green beast is canceled. Do you want to put on a sad movie and cry it out? We can bust out the futon and watch it in our spare bedroom?”
My heart ached from nostalgia. We used to have movie nights in their bedroom with the biggest TV in the house.
Feeling so accepted by my parents, I was content.
I was never the kid who rebelled against her parents in her teens.
They have always been such a source of comfort that I didn’t realize how much I missed them while living in the city. I never felt alone here.
“Yeah, I kinda do. But what about Dad’s rom-coms?”
“He can cry with us. He’s the one who invited Connor here, so he doesn’t get to pick the movie.”
“Bullshit!” my dad yelled.
My mom and I chuckled before she patted my knee. “Grab your blanket and join us.”
And that’s how I ended my night, curled up on my parents’ spare mattress, bawling my eyes out to a holiday movie. I ugly cried, but for the first time since leaving the city, I didn’t think about Connor or my marriage. I just lived inside the story of the movie, and it felt good.
The next morning, I stood in front of the town hall, where tables lined either side of the walkway.
It was the annual gingerbread house decorating competition, and they had hired me to photograph it.
Marla, my mom’s best friend and the town’s lead gossiper, ran the event.
She waved me over. “Laney, it’s so good to see you! ”
“Hi, Marla,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t bring up Connor. My mom promised she wouldn’t but, let’s be real, Marla loves drama. “Great turnout this year.”
“I had to rush order more materials since we had a few last-minute sign-ups.” Marla placed her hands on her hips with a wide smile on her face. “I’d love you to get a shot of every pair decorating, action shots, then a posed photo at the end. Is that doable?”
“Absolutely.” I held up my camera and forced a smile. “I’ll get started now.”
“Thanks, doll. And hey,” she said, her smile faltering. “You look good. Glad you’re home.”