Chapter 19
Sasha
Vuitton was at my heels, moving as I paced back and forth in the kitchen. I’d been doing nothing but going over my last conversation
with Courtney and remixing it with the one I’d had with Tanisha and Denise. Was I really as bad as they made me out to be? If either of them needed something, I showed up for them. I was there for Tanisha when her mom was sick, even cooked a few
meals for them, and after her breakup I was ready to ride at dawn against that cheating scum of an ex. When Denise had to
vacate her apartment because of flooding from the unit above hers, I arranged and paid for the movers.
My friendship wasn’t as self-serving as they said. I was a phone call away if they ever needed something, and they both knew
that.
But Courtney had also implied I was selfish.
I never congratulated her. I’d convinced myself that it was fine. She was fine. We were fine. But we were not fine. She’d left me, twice now. Her driving
Mya to school wasn’t as drastic, but the message was just as loud. Why was it so hard for me to admit when I was wrong? To just say sorry?
Bending, I scooped up my dog, bringing him close for snuggles. “Mama really fucked up this time, baby.” I nuzzled his soft fur with my face.
I’d gone too far. And like when she left to stay with Tina, Courtney still hadn’t reached out. I knew she’d made it to Florida
because Mya had been posting on social media, but her sister had been notably absent from all the photos. It had been radio
silence from my wife. Was she still there? How long was she planning on being gone?
Your phone works both ways, Sasha.
The night I’d stayed out after she’d gotten home popped into my head. I’d been so pissed I hadn’t even bothered to call to
let her know I wasn’t coming home. That was fucked up of me, and now she was paying me back tenfold.
I was worried, but also too chicken shit to call or text out of fear of rejection. What if she didn’t answer, or left me on
read?
Maybe I was as selfish as everyone had been implying because at the end of the day I let my feelings dictate my actions.
What if she didn’t forgive me this time?
Her actions had me scared. I’d tossed and turned all night with worries that she was gone and not contacting me because she
was contemplating leaving me for good. I carried Vuitton upstairs to my bedroom. My too-empty bedroom.
Vuitton jumped out of my arms and onto the bed, turning a few times before he got comfortable. I rubbed his soft fur, finding
peace in his unbotheredness. If only I didn’t have a care in the world. Sadly, I had too many.
It was eating me up that I didn’t know where she was.
I wanted to call her, or text . . . something.
But wouldn’t. Courtney clearly needed space and as much as it pained me, I had to let her have it.
I was doing all I could to ignore the black hole in my stomach that was slowly growing at the thought of how this time felt different from when she’d gone to Tina’s.
It was truly a case of “be careful what you wish for.” All this time I’d wanted Courtney home, to be around more, yet there was more distance between us now than there ever was when she was traveling.
Blowing out a slow breath, my gaze drifted over to the closet before my feet carried me there. I looked around, taking in
everything and realizing that ninety percent of it belonged to me. Courtney had a small section, but most of her clothes had
ended up in the guest room. She didn’t mind, or maybe I just told myself she didn’t. Courtney hadn’t fought me on it, not
really; she’d made a joking comment about being kicked out, but that had been it. However, now looking at it, was this a visual
representation of us? Of me? Of what I kept expecting her to give?
My hands gravitated toward the new dresses I’d purchased when she’d been in Arizona, the tags still on them. I didn’t even
know where I’d wear them to. But that hadn’t stopped me from buying coordinating shoes, because I couldn’t buy just the dresses.
It didn’t matter that I most likely had shoes in my closet that would have worked. Being petty had been the goal with that
particular shopping spree. I had been determined to spend the equivalent of the plane ticket on new things to make me feel
better about being left behind.
I didn’t think I had a shopping problem. Buying pretty things made me feel good. And it was how my parents always tried to
soothe my disappointment at their absence. It was what I knew.
Yet, as I looked around . . . I had things, a lot of pretty, shiny, expensive things, but I was alone.
Still alone. Things didn’t replace connection.
I plopped down onto the bench and let out a shaky sigh. Denise may have been rude, but maybe she was also right. Had I made being with Courtney my whole identity? Could that be my problem like Courtney said? That I needed to figure something out, to do something with myself?
My parents had said the same thing. That I spent too much time aimless. I’d floated from major to major when I was in college.
Nothing ever quite felt right. College was supposed to be the time you found yourself, but my parents had thought I was taking
too long. They’d been tired of throwing money at my tuition, until they finally said no more, that I needed to settle on something
and get myself together to graduate. When I didn’t, they gave up on me and cut me off.
Then I found the only thing I enjoyed doing, which was dancing. And I had taken that up out of spite.
But now what did I have?
Vuitton barked then took off out of the room. I called after him as he continued making noise, stopping short when I got to
the bottom of the stairs and saw my wife. My dog excitedly jumped around at her ankles, begging for attention. I guess he’d
missed her just as much as I had.
She was a sight. A mix of relief and nervousness coiled through me. My heart rate kicked up and I had to stop myself from
running and jumping into her arms. She was back, and for that I was grateful.
Courtney bent to pick up Vuitton, holding him in front of her face. “Why you being so loud? You don’t even like me.” Even
as she said the words, she shifted him so that he lay in her arms like a baby and gave him belly rubs.
I swallowed hard when she licked her lips and lifted her gaze to mine. Her expression was unreadable. I shifted my attention
back to the spoiled animal in her arms soaking up all the loving she was giving him.
“Clearly, he does like you.”
“It’s his guilty conscience.”
Slowly, I walked deeper into the kitchen, keeping my eyes on her, stopping at one of the barstools. “I don’t think it works that way for animals.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
My stomach was in a constant free fall. I chewed the inside of my cheek, trying to gauge her mood. She didn’t seem pissed,
but Courtney hardly ever showed those emotions unless she was really pushed. Like at Thanksgiving. And I tried not to read
too much into the fact that the only person she’d given affection to so far was Vuitton. No hugs, kisses, ass grabs, or I missed you, baby for me.
I was still expecting her to make the first move.
I blew out a shaky breath. “Um . . . how was your trip?”
Court set Vuitton down, and he did a body shake before running off to jump onto the sofa. She strolled toward me, stopping
at the end of the island. Not a huge space between us, but big enough. “Long. Boring. But good. And needed.”
I pressed my lips together and forced down the wave of unease that rolled through me. “That’s, um, good. I’m glad. You hungry?”
I headed to the fridge without waiting for her to answer. “Go take a shower. I know how you like to shower after travelin’.
I’ll whip us up a nice lunch.”
“I’m good. I actually got back yesterday.”
I stopped gathering ingredients and turned to face her, setting spinach, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions on the counter.
Surely, I heard her wrong. “Yesterday?”
She slid onto the barstool and folded her arms on the granite. “Yeah.”
My feelings of worry and uncertainty were morphing into anger. She was back, but didn’t . . . I placed my palms on the cool surface in hopes that it would help calm me. “And you didn’t come home because?” She wanted to make me sweat. She was visiting a divorce lawyer.
“Because I needed more time to think.”
Typical Courtney. Everything on her time. I took a deep breath. No fighting. No fighting. No fighting. I was giving her space. I didn’t call her any more than she called me. “About whether or not you’re gonna leave me?” Despite
my mental pep talk, I couldn’t keep the attitude from seeping into my tone. It was my defense mechanism, well used and activated
on autopilot.
Courtney leaned back and pulled in a deep inhale followed by a slow exhale, then nodded slowly. Her attention went to the
gold silicone band on her finger, rubbing her thumb across it before glancing back up at me. “Yeah . . . it’s something I’ve
weighed. Can you blame me? We haven’t been having the best time as of late. There’s a lot of shit that’s built up between
us.”
She’s thought about leaving me. The anger drained and my eyes burned as I fought back tears from her admission. I turned back to pull the steaks from the
fridge. I had them marinating in hopes she’d be home and we could have a nice dinner. I could apologize. I needed to do that,
but fuck, it was so hard to admit being wrong.
But I didn’t want to lose her. I couldn’t.
She’d thought about leaving me for good. Giving up on me. On us.
I closed my eyes, willing the tears to stay away, and tightened my hand around the door handle as I blew out a breath. “I . . .
uh, was gonna make these for dinner tonight, in hopes that you’d be back. But a nice steak salad for lunch works instead.”
I turned back to face her, hoping for . . . something. Her to give me some sort of silent encouragement, or opening, anything.
For her to fix it.
“Yeah, sounds good,” she said after a beat.
Her words came back to me, the statement about how she was always the one to make peace first. To do the fixing.
Remembering the disbelief from both Denise and Tanisha that I still hadn’t acknowledged the championship win let loose a wave of guilt and shame.
It had been her biggest moment, and I’d only focused on how hurt I was when at the end of the day I should have still been there to support and celebrate with her.
The more she mentioned how my actions hurt her, the harder it was to admit I was wrong.
And now she was ready to leave me. My stomach lurched and my heart raced at the thought. My pride, or ego, or whatever couldn’t
be the reason we crashed and burned.
I twirled the red onion around with my finger, knowing what I had to do. “I’m sorry,” I blurted out. Closing my eyes, I took
a slow breath, then started over. “I’m sorry,” I said, meeting her shocked gaze. “I should have congratulated you. It was
petty of me, and childish. And I should’ve done better. I shouldn’t have ignored your accomplishment. I shouldn’t have wanted
to hurt you like that. And when you told me multiple times that you were hurt . . . this, I don’t know why it’s so hard for
me to admit I’m wrong. To apologize. But I should have.”
She didn’t say anything.
My mouth went dry, and I could feel each beat of my erratic heart. “I am proud of you. So very proud of everythin’ you and
the team achieved this season, and I hate that my behavior put a stain on it.” I pressed my lips together, losing the fight
to hold back the tears. “I hate that I made you feel like I didn’t care. I wish I could take it back, have a do-over. But
I can’t and I don’t know if sorry is enough.”
Her continued silence reinforced that my actions could have cost me the best woman I’d ever been with. When she stretched
her hand across the island, the tightening in my chest unfurled as I reached out and slid my hand into hers.
“Thank you.” She leaned forward, swiping at a tear that ran down my cheek.
“I don’t wanna lose you,” I whispered. Speaking my biggest fear out loud left me open and exposed, but knowing she was contemplating
leaving, I couldn’t process anything other than telling her the truth.
“Baby . . .” Courtney let go of my hand, moving quickly around the barrier between us to pull me into her arms.
For the first time since our fight, I was able to fully exhale as I settled against her, wrapping my arms around her waist.
I let the tears flow. No more hiding or trying to pretend I was okay when I wasn’t.
“I’m not gonna lie, I did have thoughts on if this, us, was still something I wanted. Something worth fighting for.”
Her admission made my breath catch. When I felt her loosen her hold, I held on tighter. There had to be something I could
do to fix it.
“I know I act irrationally at times. And I’ll do better—”
My words were cut off when she cupped my face, her cast a rough contrast to the warmth of her other palm.
“We both have work to do. I do love you, and I’m not ready to walk away without knowing I did everything I could.” She leaned
down and pressed her lips against mine.
Soft, slow, and nothing more than a simple connection, but it was enough to warm me from head to toe. All I could do was nod
after she pulled away.
“We have a lot of things we need to discuss.”
“Will we see them through to the end?”
I couldn’t stop the question because, of late especially, she had a habit of walking away when she no longer wanted to continue
with the conversation. So, while yes, she was the one saying we needed to discuss things, I’d been left alone and frustrated
by that tactic.
A half smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she nodded. “Yeah . . . we will.”
I believed her. She’d thought about leaving for good, but ultimately wanted to fight for me, for us. And that was good enough
for me.
“Okay. Okay. Sit, let me get myself cleaned up, then I’ll get lunch together.”