Chapter 18
AVA
I wake to see the familiar ceiling above me, the duvet wrapped around my body like a cocoon. I allow myself to blink slowly, the reality that surrounds me sneaking upon me like a silent assassin.
Then I wonder why the other side of the bed is cold, and I remember that my husband cheated on me and that he is sleeping in the spare room.
Wonder-fucking-ful.
I roll over, his pillow smelling of him as I feel tears prick my eyes once again.
Will this ever end? This feeling of not being happy anymore, the emptiness without him by my side.
I hate how much I love him, hate him for doing this to us—hate the fact I can’t just crawl into bed with him and hide in his arms. He always protected me from everything, and he had my back in every eventuality; except this.
I sit up, wrapping my dressing gown around me as I pad through to Poppy's room. She’s hanging out of bed with her mouth open, still fast asleep.
I smile as I walk in, lifting her back into bed as I pull the covers up around her. Maybe if I’m lucky, she’ll sleep for another few hours. I watch her sleep, wondering what she is dreaming of. My heart aches with love for her, and I wonder if her world will ever be the same again.
Fucking Roman.
I head downstairs to make a pot of coffee, my eyes adjusting to the light as I drag out the milk from the fridge, still yawning.
"You're up early."
I whirl around at his voice, holding my hand to my chest as I see Roman sitting by the window.
He’s holding a mug, staring out onto the garden as he smiles faintly.
My heart hammers in my chest at the sight of him, creased t-shirt, bed hair and muscular forearms—and I fight every instinct to run over to him and beg for him to rewind time.
I decide not to answer him, making a large coffee with lots of milk before I stir sweetener into it. I'm still stirring slowly when he stands up, resting his palms on the flat of the kitchen surface.
"Are you alright?"
I’m just fucking peachy.
But I stare at him without emotion, lifting the mug to my lips. The physical need for him right now is almost primal, throbbing, trying to climb from my skin and wrap itself around him.
My pussy, the fucking whore, wants his dick so bad. Tough shit. There’s no fucking way I’m touching him again.
"You know I'm not," I reply flatly.
"I know." He sighs, running a hand through his hair.
I hate that I still want him. My anger has subsided to that of my need and desire for him, but I refuse to obey. I'd spent the past week in bed with Kieron, but he’s back in England now.
Still, it gave me a confidence boost and pulled aside a veil I didn’t know existed—showing me what else was out there.
Who else was out there.
"Don't leave me, Ava. Please ." Roman’s voice cracks before he sucks in a deep breath.
Is he trying not to cry?
I look up at him, and he stares at me with the same look as the one I saw in his eyes all those years ago. The same man who loved my smile, who couldn't get me out of his mind. The man who had proposed to me and asked me to be his wife. The man who cried when our daughter was born.
The man who had well and truly broken my heart.
"Roman. Be realistic with your expectations."
He swallows, clearly not able to accept I don’t want him. My body may yearn for him, but I’ll find someone else to do that with.
I’m not letting my cheating husband anywhere fucking near me, not again. No matter how good it felt.
"I know you don't trust me. I wouldn't either."
"You ruined everything." The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, but maybe I’m addicted to seeing the pain in his eyes.
He bows his head. "I’m so fucking sorry. Our life was amazing. I'd do anything to have it back."
"Until you get bored again. Or the next starlet flutters her eyes at the one and only famous NFL quarterback, Roman Muller. Women won't ever stop trying to get you into bed; the only person that can is you , and you did a fine job of that last time."
He nods, his jaw clenching as he stares at me, walking around to me slowly before he stops.
"I won't ever risk losing you again. I've never known pain like this. You and Kieron...it nearly killed me. You need to know how much it has hurt me too. It's not any different just because you did it out of spite."
"Out of spite?!" I gasp, shaking my head as I move towards him. "I wanted to fall in love with him so badly. I didn’t do it just to spite you, Roman! I wanted to come back here and leave your cheating ass in the dust!" He’s so fucking egotistical to think the only reason I slept with Kieron was to get back at him. I mean, that’s partly true, but also, I needed the attention, the comfort… the mind-blowing sex.
He gazes at me before opening his arms out. "Yet here you are. Why are you still here, Ava?"
"I’m here for Poppy," I snap, rage searing through my veins.
What does he want me to say? That I’m here for him? Ha!
"I'm not going anywhere. You can hate me forever, but I'm never going to give up on you. I'll quit the NFL. We will move to fucking Hawaii if you want. I don't care. I just want you."
I stare at him as he holds up his hands.
"Whatever I have to do to prove it to you, I will. I'll do it all. Just say the word."
"It isn't that simple," I tell him. "You hurt me?—”
"And you hurt me too!” His eyes flash as he moves closer. “You slept with the one guy I knew was in love with you. The one person you told me you felt nothing but platonic friendship for. Not only that, but you went and stayed with him for a week after!"
" And ? I’m not cutting ties with him, Roman. He hasn't ever married me and had an affair whilst I cared for our daughter. He doesn't think I'm boring or dull, and trust me, he couldn't get enough of me. Unlike you ."
We stare at each other, then he slams his mug down on the table, dragging his hands over his face in despair. "So what do you want?" he asks quietly, chest heaving as I lift my eyes up to his.
"I wanted what we had. But that was the version of you that would never, ever have done this to me. The man that made a promise he would love me forever. And right now? I don't know if that man exists anymore."
"I do, Ava. I do ."
He holds his head in his hands then, and I reel with the realisation that he is crying. In the whole time I've known him, I've probably seen him cry twice.
Good.
"Then you'll understand why I can't get back with you," I say as his shoulders shake.
For a moment, my instincts want to comfort him, but I stop myself. I stay where I am, watching him break down, and something hardens inside me.
"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," he weeps.
I watch him, unable to believe he thinks that his tears are going to be what brings me back. Does he think I’m that much of a pushover? That he can cheat on me and ruin my life, and potentially our daughter’s life, and I will just take him back after a few weeks?
Fuck, no. I don’t want him back.
He looks up at me, his eyes shining with tears.
"You didn’t deserve this. I don't deserve you. But I need to know if you really want a divorce. I have to prepare myself, Ava."
I allow myself to inhale his anxiety, to let it soothe my sore nerves, to smother the insecurity that he created.
Then I aim for the centre of his soul, his heart, his entire world.
"Yes, I want a divorce, Roman," I state quietly, stepping back when he reaches for me. "I won’t forgive you."
Panic owns his face before he stumbles over his words, unable to believe his little wife would say such a thing.
Well, I’m not his little wife anymore, am I?
I’m a woman fucking scorned, and he will pay.
"Fall in love with me again. I swear, I'll make you fall for me again. I'll be better?—"
"Better?" I look at him steadily. "I don’t think that would be hard, would it? Maybe when you meet someone else, you should keep your dick in your pants."
"Someone else? Ava—" He glares at me before reaching out to grab my wrist. “That’s never going to fucking happen.”
"Honestly, maybe you should go back to Annie." I tug my wrist from his grip as he chokes on air.
“Ava, for fucks sake?—”
My phone buzzes on the counter. I glance at it—a text from Adam confirming our dinner plans.
Perfect timing.
I look back at Roman, and for the first time since this conversation started, I feel a small sense of victory. He glares down at my phone, but I hold it tight, daring him to challenge me.
“I’m going out tonight. I wouldn’t wait up if I were you.”
“Ava! You can’t be fucking serious!” he growls, his face reddening as I ignore him, picking up my coffee and heading back upstairs.
Maybe I’ll go to the salon, get my hair done. Nails too. Because why the fuck not?
He wants me back, does he? Let's see how much he really wants me when he realizes other men value what he threw away.