Chapter 16
ROMAN
" I swear, if you don't brush your teeth, they'll fall out, and you'll look like a gummy bear." I fold my arms to match my daughter's defiant pose.
"I want Mommy to do it."
I close my eyes, trying not to react. This isn't Poppy’s fault her mother isn't here to brush her teeth—it's mine.
"Sweetheart—"
I hear the door open downstairs. We both freeze, Poppy's eyes meeting mine as we turn to see Ava putting down her suitcase, her gaze lifting to meet mine.
She looks better, I have to admit, than the last time I saw her. Rested. Not constantly fucking— nope, I can't think about that.
"Mommy!"
Poppy runs toward the stairs as both Ava and I shout, "Walk!" simultaneously.
Our eyes meet briefly before Poppy throws herself into her mother's arms. I lean on the banister, watching them, my soul finally warming at the sight of my wife.
"I don't want Daddy to brush my teeth; I want you to." Poppy gives her mother the wide-eyed cutie-pie look usually reserved for me.
"Fine, go up, and I'll brush your teeth."
Her voice. Jesus fuck —I've missed it so much.
Ava walks upstairs, shrugging off her jacket as she heads into the bathroom. I catch a whiff of an unfamiliar cologne and know it's him . My stomach twists as I leave them to it, heading downstairs to pour a drink.
I've spent the past week being a full-time parent to Poppy, and it's exhausting.
I take my hat off to Ava—she does this alongside a job .
I haven't even considered training or practice, but I know I have to get back to it.
Now that Ava's home, I'll be back to hotels, which isn't ideal.
My parents live further out, but I could always go there.
My mother called the other day, checking on Poppy and Ava. She didn't ask how I was, simply handed the phone to my father, who listened as I told him how I'd ruined my life. He didn't disagree, just told me I had to do whatever Ava wanted now because I'd thought with the wrong part of my anatomy.
Thanks, Dad.
I down my first whiskey, pleased that it burns going down. Any minute now, Ava will be here asking me to leave.
I could ask to stay, but I don't expect her to say yes anytime soon.
I hear her enter the kitchen, arms folded as she gazes at me coolly. I don't say anything, only offer her a drink, lifting the whiskey bottle.
"No, thank you." How formal .
"I've missed you." The words blurt out, and she widens her eyes at me.
"If you're going to start the conversation like that, I'll take that drink."
I pour her a whiskey, hands shaking as I walk over to her, stopping further away than I'd like. I can't help but look for signs of her being with another man, but I can't see anything obvious. I feel sick wondering if they didn't just fuck—worse, if they made love.
Kill me now.
"Ava, I'm so sorry. Please hear me out."
She sits on one of the stools, crossing her legs as she watches me. "I'm listening, Roman."
"I have no words that can express how sorry I am.
I'm a bastard, and I don't deserve you. I fucked up, I can't even explain why I did what I did.
.." My voice trails off as I see the hurt in her eyes.
"Because no one compares to you. I had no right to do that to you.
I have no right to expect you to forgive me.
But I want you to know that I understand why you want a divorce. "
I swallow, my throat thickening as she meets my eyes, her expression unreadable.
"If you want to be with him , then I have no choice but to understand and accept it. I don't deserve you, and maybe he does."
Liar. Fucking liar. He can’t have her.
I lift my drink, draining the whiskey as her eyes fill with tears.
"But I want you to know how much I love you.
" I move closer, and she stiffens, hand raised.
She doesn't want me near her. "I've fallen asleep thinking of you and woken up hugging a pillow like it was you.
I've dreamed about you every night, and no one will ever come close to you.
I love you so much, Ava. I'm sorry I ruined us. "
"You did ruin us." Her voice is barely a whisper. "You destroyed everything we had."
"I know?—"
"Do you?" She stands abruptly, fury blazing in her eyes. "Do you know what it felt like? Finding out my husband was fucking another woman while I was home with our daughter?"
"Ava—"
"How dare you." Her voice rises. "How dare you stand there and tell me you love me after what you did. After you let another woman touch you, kiss you, have you?—"
"Stop—"
"Did you think about me when you were inside her, Roman? Did you think about your wife while you were filling some other woman's cunt ?"
I slam my glass down, the sound echoing through the kitchen. "And what about you? You let him touch you. You let Kieron have what's mine ."
" Yours ?" She laughs, the sound sharp and broken. "I stopped being yours the moment you chose her over me ."
"That's not—I never chose her. It was a mistake?—"
"A mistake that lasted months!" She's crying now, angry tears streaming down her face. "You chose her every time you went to her bed. Every time you lied to me. Every time you came home and kissed me with her taste still on your lips."
The words hit like physical blows. I reach for her, and she steps back.
"Don't fucking touch me. You lost that right."
"Like hell I did." Something snaps inside me. "You're my wife."
"I was your wife. Now I'm just the same as every other woman you?—"
I close the distance between us in two strides, backing her against the counter. "Don't finish that sentence."
"Why? Are you afraid to hear the truth? That I mean nothing to you?"
I see red. "Shut up."
"Make me."
The challenge in her eyes, the fury, the pain—it all collides at once. I crush my mouth to hers, pouring months of regret and desperation into the kiss. She fights me for a minute before her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer.
It's angry and desperate and full of pain. Her nails rake down my back as I lift her onto the counter, stepping between her legs. She bites my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.
"I fucking hate you," she gasps against my mouth.
"I know." I kiss her neck, tasting salt from her tears. "I hate me too."
"You broke us." Her hands are in my hair, pulling.
"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."
She yanks my shirt over my head, her touch desperate and punishing. "Sorry doesn't fix it."
"I know." I work at the buttons of her blouse, my hands shaking. "I know it doesn't."
"You let her have you." Her voice breaks on the words. "You were supposed to be mine ."
"I am yours. Only yours."
"Liar." But she's kissing me again, biting, claiming, like she's trying to erase every trace of Annie from my skin.
We're frantic now, pulling at clothes, desperate to feel something other than this crushing pain. When I finally sink into her, we both cry out—from pleasure, from anguish, from the bittersweet relief of being connected again.
The fucking familiarity of my wife makes my eyes roll in my head.
She’s back, she’s mine. Whatever she’s done with Kieron, it's me she’s come back to.
She wraps her legs around me, holding me close while simultaneously pushing me away with her words.
"I hate that I still want you," she whispers.
"I hate that I threw this away," I whisper back. “That I nearly lost you.”
We move together with desperate intensity, months of separation and betrayal and longing pouring out of us. It's not making love—it's more raw, more primal. We're hurting each other and healing each other and destroying each other all at once.
“Fuck me harder than you fucked her,” Ava demands, her eyes burning into mine.
“Ava,” my voice cracks, but she grits her teeth, yanking me against her.
“Harder, Roman. Harder than he fucked me.”
Jesus fucking Christ!
My hand fists her hair as I yank her down from the counter, bending her over before slamming back into her.
“Is this harder than he did it, huh? Is this enough for you?” I hiss, bruising her hips with my fingers. “Does my wife want to be fucked hard by her husband?”
“You’re not my husband!” Ava throws over her shoulder, just as I grip her chin.
“Yes. I. Fucking. Am.” I punctuate each word with a thrust so hard she cries out, gripping the counter so she doesn’t fall.
She cries out as her body tenses around me, her pussy clenching and squeezing my dick like it missed it too.
Did she do this with him? Did he get to feel this?
“I hate you!” she half sobs, and I bow my head, releasing myself into her as she says it over and over again.
“So hate me, baby. But you’re still mine.”
When it's over, we stay connected, breathing hard, her face buried in my neck. For a moment, I think maybe?—
"This means nothing." Her words are quiet but final.
"Ava—"
"It means nothing ."
I pull back to look at her, but she won't meet my eyes. "Baby?—"
" Don't call me that." She pushes me until I step back, then rises from the counter, already reaching for her clothes. "This doesn't change anything, Roman. This was just..." She trails off, wrapping her arms around herself.
I can’t…
"Just what?"
"Just me saying goodbye." She finally looks at me, and her eyes are empty again. "It won't happen again."
I reach for my shirt, my chest tight. "Ava, we can work through this?—"
"All I see is you and her, do you know that? That is all I see. You can stay, but not in our room. Poppy deserves better than her parents living apart or fighting. I don't know what the fuck I want, but I can't have you clouding my vision with your fuckboy skills."
She walks away, her hair falling in between her shoulder blades as I feel myself physically ache.
"I'm not a fuckboy; I'm your husband," I mumble.
How the fuck do I get my wife back?
I watch her climb the stairs, each step taking her further away from me. When she reaches the top, she doesn't look back.
I'm left standing in our kitchen, half-dressed and completely broken, realizing that having her body meant nothing if I couldn't have her heart.
And I'm not sure I ever will again.