34. Rosenna
Chapter thirty-four
Rosenna
E ntering the kitchen as I fixed my earrings, Gavin looked up from his laptop to gaze up at me before returning to his work. Grabbing a mug, I prepped some water to boil for my tea.
“Didn’t think I’d see you home this morning,” I said. He’d been getting called into the office earlier in the days, only allowing me to see him in the afternoon or when he’d stop by the museum.
He sighed as he leaned his head back before cracking it to the side.
“Thought I’d take a personal day, get some work done at home and catch up with the guys at the office tomorrow.”
I nodded as I grabbed a fruit bar for my drive to the gallery.
“Hopefully you get some rest. I, unfortunately, will not know that luxury for the next few weeks.”
He nodded silently as he stood from his chair and slowly made his way over to me.
“I bet… The big day is almost here. The art exhibit that everyone in the entire region can’t wait to visit.”
I let out a small smile as I poured the now-finished tea into my mug.
Adding a bit of honey, I forced myself not to be skittish or flinch as his hand rested on the small of my back. Hiding my hesitancy, I spoke with a sigh.
“I’m excited and extremely nervous.”
He hummed as he grabbed my left hand and lifted it slowly.
“Everything is going to work itself out. Just you wait and see ,” he assured me as he placed a kiss on the finger that held my wedding ring. My heart skipped a beat, though I continued to remain impassive as he caressed the diamond and band with his thumb.
“We never did return to our discussion from the other night. Did you have a chance to think about everything?” he asked.
I pulled away wordlessly as I cleaned up the little mess I’d made in the kitchen.
Did I have a chance to think? Did I really have a chance to think about the request to have a baby with my husband, who now suddenly found an interest in his wife other than to belittle her or ridicule her? Did I have a chance to think when I was bent over the counter for another man to use me as if I belonged to him? Did I have a chance to think when I was falling in love with said man and falling out of love with my husband?
I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t say anything, really. I was actually hoping we would just sweep that conversation under the rug, forget it even happened. But with the way he waited expectantly, I knew I had to say something.
Taking a sip of my tea, I lowered the mug to the counter and held it silently. “I don’t really know what to say,” I whispered.
Gavin nodded. “It’s understandable. Just wanted to know when you were ready to start that conversation again.”
“Gavin. I… I don’t think I’m ready, and quite frankly, I don’t know when I will be.”
“You were ready a few years ago. What’s changed since then?” he asked, almost as if he hadn’t been the one to turn me down time and time again.
“I’ve changed, Gavin. I was done waiting for you to change a long time ago, and it’s going to take more than dinner and a few kisses to get back to a good place.” Not that we were ever in a good place to begin with…
“All you’ve talked about is bringing us closer together and putting effort into fixing our marriage. Don’t you see I’m trying here?”
“You’re trying?” I uttered in disbelief.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Of course I am, Rose. I wouldn’t be talking to you about this now if I wasn’t.”
I had to control my anger as my hand on the counter balled into a fist.
“ Trying would have been supporting me in the beginning of trying to run my business. Trying would be talking to Brent so I wouldn’t be hanging on by a thread with the interest rates on my loans. Trying would be standing your ground against your parents when they talk down on me.” I let go of the mug and turned to completely face him, almost breathless. “In the middle of that, maybe hold your wife for reasons other than just to give a half-assed apology for something you did. Maybe a bit of connection and affection could help, too. And sex! We haven’t had sex in years because of work, or you were tired, or whatever excuse you’ve given me that has kept us apart almost our entire marriage. You barely touch me, and now, all of a sudden, you want to have a baby? So we can fix our marriage? Is that truly your way of trying?”
“You’re the one who wanted to start a family. I’m only doing what you asked for ,” Gavin said, stoic against my anger. He seemed like he was trying to control his composure, but I knew he was angry too. I knew the caring husband facade would crack , but I just didn’t know when. Now, his once loving gaze was slowly turning into a scrutinizing one, the one that surfaced when he couldn’t control what I did and downplayed my accomplishments.
Placing the half-empty mug in the sink, I went to walk away before I felt his hand on my upper arm to stop me. It wasn’t hard, but just him touching me had me wanting to pull away in disgust.
“Rosenna,” he began.
I forced my words out through gritted teeth. “I am done with this conversation, Gavin.”
He reluctantly released my arm, though his scrutinizing gaze lingered. He looked like he would speak, probably ready to curse me out of my name or belittle me as he’d done before—but he said nothing as he looked away, seemingly uninterested in taking the conversation any further.
Taking it as my sign to leave, I high-tailed my ass out of the kitchen, practically fuming as I grabbed my belongings and stepped out of the home.
As I found myself in the car, reversing to leave, I couldn’t help but feel dejected. In the next day or so, I would get his signature half-assed apology, and like the idiot I was, I would accept it. Nowadays, I don’t think it would be out of obligation to keep the peace, but I would simply do it to please him because I bear the guilt of cheating. Almost like he could do no wrong as I was the doer of all the sins we vowed against on our wedding day.
With tears in my eyes, as I stopped at the red light, I couldn’t help the sob that escaped my chest.
This was all my fault. The loans, my marriage, my affair. All of it was me. The worst part of it all was that I finally felt happy. I was finally feeling like I would have a chance to bring my head above water—but even if I did, I would never float.
Because I’ve sunken. I’ve sunken deep into love with a man I would ruin my marriage for. A man who took away all of the pain and gave me only pleasure. A sick and twisted man who cherished me in ways I’d never imagined.
I wanted a family, I wanted to love, I wanted to have a husband that was understanding, I wanted a life that was filled with compassion. In a sense, I got part of what I wanted, but it was either with the wrong person or wrong intentions.
Hearing my phone buzz, I glanced over to it for a split second to see a message from Beckham. We had no session scheduled today; however, the message simply stated an address as well as a time to meet him: five PM. And like an idiot, like a fucking love-sick idiot, I knew I would be there . Because it was a vicious cycle—a cycle I needed to break.
Leave it to me to fall in love with a man who told me he wouldn’t be able to love me from the beginning.
As the clock struck at 5:02 PM, I waited anxiously in my car. I couldn’t move. It had been a long day of prepping and finalizing a lot for the upcoming exhibit, but I appreciated the busyness as it kept my mind occupied. Kira, my darling and amazing Kira, knew I had a rough morning and stopped at nothing to get me into a better mood.
But I now felt paralyzed outside another one of Beckham’s warehouses, anxiously anticipating another one of our sessions. And as much as I would enjoy a three-hour tension-filled painting session and mind-blowing sex to compensate afterward, I knew I wouldn’t be in the mood for it.
After stepping out of my car, I walked toward the building as the door opened simultaneously. Beckham stepped out, and I’m sure he recognized my melancholy mood from miles away. As I stopped before him, he placed a hand on my lower back, and his other hand caressed my face.
“Flower... what’s wrong?”
I gave a small smile as I shook my head. I hated how much he was able to read me.
“I’m fine, I promise.”
It was clear he didn’t believe me. Grabbing my hand in his, he slowly walked me into the warehouse.
As we stepped in, I furrowed my eyebrows and looked around. Sculptures and figures littered the floor while finished paintings and canvases were stacked high. Some of the artwork remained propped up, allowing me to see the intricate designs and details of each masterpiece.
Beckham let go of my hand as I looked around the room in awe. Some paintings were sad, some were angry, and a few depicted joy and happiness. Though we had some space to walk, the room felt full.
Looking back over to him, I realized his eyes never left me. “You created all of this?”
“It was the only way I could articulate my emotions, years of unspoken feelings that have been painted, sculpted, or carved ended up here or in my six other warehouses.”
“It’s a beautiful place to conduct our next session.” My eyes continued roaming the beautiful paintings.
“There… will be no more sessions, Flower.”
My eyes immediately returned to him instantly.
“What?” I breathed out, and he shrugged.
“I wanted to understand you through my artwork. I can successfully say that I’ve done that, and even more so with you.”
After a moment, he reached into his back pocket. Pulling out a set of keys, he held them out to me as I looked at him, dumbfounded.
“Beckham, what are you doing?”
“I’m giving you the keys to the most vulnerable parts of me, Flower. I used art to understand who I was… I used art to understand you. I’ve never needed the money, and I’ve never needed to be recognized for my artistry. Despite that, you still chose to see me . You want the world to see me, and I’m giving you the tools to do so. I am giving you all of me.” I could only stare at him in utter disbelief as he spoke with utter sincerity. “I am giving you everything . All of the profits made during the art exhibit, all of the profit you can make sharing my artistry with the world, will solely belong to you. I don’t need anything in return.”
My heart raced as I looked down at the keys that belonged to all of the warehouses that held his emotions and artistic visions. The keys to his mind, his psyche… his heart.
I knew Beckham never cared about the money or recognition. He didn’t want to gain anything in return for his art, but—
“But you do want something ,” I whispered as he approached me slowly and held his hand to the side of my face. My heart raced in anticipation as I looked into his possessive and captivating eyes.
“The only thing I want, Flower, is you .”