Chapter 26 #2
The silence between them as they walked back to the house was near unbearable. His chest ached. Keeping his distance now was so much harder than it had been before he had known what life with her could be like. Two blessed weeks of happiness, and now this.
When they reached the house, Isadora caught his sleeve before he could follow Sophia inside.
“Tell me,” she whispered, her eyes liquid and sad.
That sorrow was his fault, and he felt the burden of guilt as though it were stones in his pockets.
“Tell me what it is that I have done, or at least that you are suffering. Let me help. Please.”
The words were far harder to summon this time. When he finally did, they were cold and unyielding as usual. “There is nothing.”
“Nothing bothering you, or nothing I can do to help?”
“Nothing you can do to help.”
“So there is something bothering you!” She exhaled sharply. “Just tell me, Nicholas. Please. Let me in. I want to be there for you and help, but how can I help when you won’t tell me what is wrong?”
His heart swelled with an emotion too large to manage. “It’s the anniversary of my wife’s death, and you’re wondering what you can do that might make my life easier?”
“So this is about Grace?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Do you miss her?”
“I already told you I don’t.” And even less now, when he had the truth of what their life together had really been like. “This has nothing to do with my missing her or not. And it’s not something you can step in and interfere with and fix, Isadora.”
She took a step back. Hurt splashed across her face in a tidal wave.
“…I see. So you want nothing to do with me.”
“I see how good you are with Sophia, and I appreciate that more than I can ever say.”
“That isn’t the same thing. You want nothing more to do with me.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “For heaven’s sake, Isadora. Don’t make this into a bigger mess than it already is. Sometimes people need space, and sometimes they don’t want to be pressed about it at every damn turn.”
“And sometimes,” she snapped, the force of her temper surprising him, “the people who share their lives with you are entitled to a certain amount of consideration!”
Stung, he reared back. “I give you consideration. Were you not telling Grace how thankful you were that I had come in and saved you?”
Her eyes flashed. Gone was the meek, nervous girl he had first married; somewhere along the way, she had turned into a fiery woman, magnificent in her anger. The fact her anger was justified only made him more infuriated, though mostly at himself.
“Do not throw my words back in my face!” she hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest. He caught her hand, resisting the urge to tug her into him so he could kiss them both into forgetting.
“I said those things in front of Sophia so she would think all is well between us, because I know it upsets her to think of us arguing. But do you want to know how I really feel?”
“No doubt you will tell me anyway.”
“I think you are cruel to treat me the way you have done.” Moisture sparked in her eyes, lining silver along her lashes, and the sight was a punch to his gut.
“If you don’t want me as a wife, then why did you spend all that time convincing me otherwise?
I was resigned to an affectionless marriage when we wed, and you convinced me to want more.
“I have spent weeks fighting for your attention and your affection, to keep our little family together as you have consistently pulled away and acted in a way that belittles me and my place in your life. All this I could have accepted without resignation if you had not taught me to want more.”
She blinked, and a single tear tracked its way down her cheek; he caught it instinctively on his thumb, and she focused on him, her rage more potent than ever. “So tell me, Nicholas, why did you change your mind about me? Or did you always intend to drop me as soon as you had your fun?”
His fun? His fun had barely started with her—he had hardly even begun to unpackage everything that she contained.
His taste of her had been more of a sip than a gulp, and he wanted more than anything to go back to the time when he didn’t believe in Grace’s infidelity, he didn’t consider the possibility that Sophia could have come from another man, and he had no fears of Isadora looking elsewhere in their marriage.
At least then if he pushed her away, it would hurt, but he would have earned her straying. And he would have anticipated it; he would already have reconciled himself to the betrayal.
At least then he would not bear children with her and wonder, after the fact, if they were sired by him at all.
“That is not what happened,” he said at last, managing the words through a tight throat. They sounded strained even to his own ears.
“Then what?”
“I am not a man designed for intimacy,” he settled on. “I married you under that understanding, and although I briefly forgot myself, I have remembered it now. We both knew what we were signing up for, and that has not changed.”
She glared at him, lashes wet. “So much has changed.”
“It’s for the best, Isadora.”
“So you are not going to take to my bed any longer? We are not going to have a family of our own?”
“You have Sophia—”
“I love Sophia,” she interrupted. “I do. But in ten years, she will be looking for her own husband. What then? Am I to endure the rest of my life under the roof of a man who can scarcely look at me?”
In ten years, who knew if his resolution to avoid her would hold out?
“We can discuss any new development as it comes,” he said stiffly.
“I see. And that is all I am to be afforded?”
“It’s all I can give, Isadora.”
She swallowed, the gesture so slow, it made him think of all sorts of obscene things—or at least it would have done if she had not been looking at him with such stark devastation on her face.
“If that were true,” she said quietly, “then we would not be here. In reality, you can give more, if you were to choose so. But you don’t. If anything, you choose not to. And that is where the problem lies.”
Nicholas watched her go, a stone in his chest, dragging him down, down, down, to a place he was not sure he would ever surface from.