Chapter Twenty-Eight
I WAKE APRIL up in the middle of the night, thrashing from my nightmares. It hasn’t been this bad since Curtis and Mum died. She grumbles about having school in the morning, so I apologize and climb out of bed.
Instead of trying to sleep again, I dig through my bag until I find the cedar heart Curtis carved for me.
I still remember the night I came back from trapping squirrels to find it resting on my bedroll.
It was a perfect gift. My dad used to make them when he was alive, and Curtis knew how badly I missed him.
He did his best to replicate the gesture, but the lines were rougher.
I press the carved heart to my lips and do my best to conjure him up.
No matter how hard I try, images of Sid interrupt.
Dancing with him on our wedding day. His hand finding mine beneath the table at the restaurant.
Most of all, I drift back to our kiss tonight.
How did I not see that coming? There have been warning signs for weeks, our touches growing more frequent and casual.
Even that first time I kissed him, when I told myself it was simply to prove that I could do it, shouldn’t I have been suspicious?
It was so easy. So natural. I’ve wanted him for a long time now, even if I wouldn’t let myself acknowledge it.
The only question I’m left with is how deep this thing goes.
Physically, the answer is obvious. My eyes have been lingering on him since the first day we met.
Tonight, there wasn’t a single moment I wanted him to stop.
Even now, I feel crazy, sitting on the floor of my bedroom when I know he’s just down the hall.
I could have him. He’s my husband, damn it.
But that’s part of what makes this so terrifying.
He’s not someone I can have a spontaneous tryst with.
We’re already tied together, and we need that connection to be stable until April and I get full citizenship.
What if this is all some side effect of faking our romance?
I forced myself to be comfortable with him for April’s sake, and now my hormones are so confused, they’re running amok.
What if in a few months, the passion fizzles?
I hate the prospect of resenting him, unable to rely on our friendship to keep me sane.
Worse still, what if we mess around and suddenly have another reason to stay together, even if we don’t want to?
I remember Amy’s first theory about us: that we got married because of an unplanned pregnancy.
That could still happen. Birth control isn’t what it used to be.
My mind spins out over this hypothetical future.
No matter how much he wanted to, I know he wouldn’t leave me.
Not if we had a baby. And I’m such a mess, it would be irresponsible of me to take the kid and leave him.
We’d be stuck with each other for another eighteen years.
Maybe more, if we relapsed and more popped out.
Shit, I am spiralling. There are no babies, Kayla. Remember? That’s the thing I never got to have. Instead, I got April. She’s the only one I owe anything to. And for everyone’s sake, it needs to stay that way.
The floorboards outside my room creak. Someone is pacing back and forth on the other side of the door, no doubt trying to decide if it’s safe to knock. I shouldn’t let him wake April, so I get up and open the door.
I’m not ready for the sight of him. Not the way he towers inside the doorframe or the fact that he’s in nothing but a worn-out t-shirt and shorts. His eyes are bloodshot, making it obvious he hasn’t been able to sleep either. When he sees me, his breath catches, eyes wandering over my tank top.
“Hey…” My voice is wispy.
He leans away from the doorframe, allowing me enough room to step around him.
Carefully, he shuts the door. I’m mesmerized by every movement.
The way the veins in his arm twist with the motion of his wrist. The way his shoulders roll when he turns to face me.
The way his Adam’s apple moves when he sees me in the dark, staring right back at him.
Here we are. Alone again.
I could have him.
I can’t have him.
“Kayla—”
“We can’t do this, Sid.” I sputter out. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry, but I’ve got to keep things steady. For April.”
He swallows. There’s no hint of surprise on his face, but the disappointment is palpable. “You’re sure that’s what you want?”
What I want? Sometimes life isn’t about what we want. But saying that out loud will only encourage him.
“You promised,” I say. “You promised when you married me, you were fine with sex being off the table.”
“Yeah… I did.” He runs a hand through his hair. My fingers should be there. “I just didn’t know how bad this was going to fuck me up.”
“I’m sorry.” I reach for him—then stumble backwards when I realize what I’m doing.
Shit, I was so close to touching him. Tonight, that’s all it would take.
Maybe once we’ve had a chance for the initial rush to die away, I’ll be able to hug him again, but right now?
Contact of any kind is a one-way ticket to his bedroom.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you. This is my fault, and I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I don’t even know why I did it. I’m still in love with Curtis. I fell in love, and I lost him. One time. That’s all I’ve got in me.”
I can’t tell if I’m lying or not. I’ve believed it for so long, how can it not be true? But the words sound hollow. The truth is probably much simpler.
I’m not too in love to move on. I’m too scared. “I want you, Kayla,” says Sid, and I lean forward, doubting my own decision. “I’m not going to lie. I want you. But… you’re right. I made you a promise. And no matter how much I want you, I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you.”
I let out a shuddering breath. “Thank you. All I want is to keep being friends. You mean so much to me, I just can’t—”
He holds up a hand. “You don’t need to keep apologizing. We both screwed up. We were just… caught off guard. We’ll be ready next time.”
“Next time? There isn’t going to be a next time!”
“I meant next time we have to go to some political event together.”
“Oh.” Right. That. “When will next time be?”
“I got invited to a town hall next week. Usually, candidates bring their partners to things like that.” He folds his arms across his chest. “Do you think you’ll still be able to—”
“Yeah. Sure. I can fake it.” A little too well, apparently.
“Great. Then we’ll be ready.” He nods, then heads for his room. Once his door is shut, I collapse against the nearest wall, sliding slowly down until my butt rests on the floor. I did it. I stopped us from doing anything stupid.
Now I’ve just got to stop feeling like absolute dogshit.