Chapter 31
Jackson
Iwatch my wife sleep.
My eyes trace her every feature. Her rosebud lips. The faint dusting of freckles over her pert nose. Her long, dark lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. She’s so beautiful, inside and out. How could I have hurt her?
When she stirs, it’s a slow process. A wiggle, a wrinkle of her nose, a stretch, and she burrows under the sheet I pulled over us last night.
I’ve been awake for an hour. I’d considered going down to make her breakfast, but I was too afraid she would wake up while I was gone. And I’m selfish enough to admit I wanted to watch her sleep for just a little while longer.
“Hey,” she says, blinking her eyes open and rubbing sleep from them. “Is it late?” Her attention swings to the drapes I got up during the night to close after she fell asleep. I didn’t want to move, but we’d both have been recoiling from the light filling the room this morning like bats.
“Hey.” Leaning over, I brush my lips across hers. “It’s still early if you want to sleep a little longer.”
“What time is it?”
“Seven.”
It’s the weekend, a Sunday, so there’s no reason for either of us to be awake this early.
I woke much earlier than I thought I would, terrified that last night was a dream and I’d open my eyes and find myself back in my apartment, all alone.
“Oh. I need to get up and pee in a bit. I’m surprised I didn’t get up in the middle of the night.”
“You crashed.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, searching her expression for any hint of regret and not finding it.
She tucks one hand under her pillow, serious eyes focused on me. “We had sex last night.”
“We did.”
As she studies me, I give her time to figure out how she feels about us sleeping together. I don’t regret it, but maybe she does.
“It wasn’t weird,” she eventually says.
“No. It wasn’t,” I echo.
It felt good. Being with her again, relearning her body, seeing how different she is now with my baby growing inside her.
We spent last night making love and fell asleep in each other’s arms, and it still doesn’t feel real. She’s not demanding that I get out, which is a good thing. She’d have told me already that she regretted it by now, wouldn’t she?
“But something is wrong, isn’t it?” I ask her quietly, bracing myself, terrified this dream is turning into a nightmare.
“There are going to be times I flashback to you in your office,” she says in the same low voice. “As much as I wish I could wipe that from my memory, I can’t. I will remember, and it will hurt, and it will make me wonder if being with you is a mistake.”
“I know.”
I want to beg, to repeat all the apologies and promises that I won’t hurt her, but I need to give her time to breathe, to figure out if what I did crosses a bridge too far.
And it might.
“I want to keep seeing that marriage counselor. She was nice and the exact sort of blunt that I think can help us have a stronger marriage and communicate better,” she says.
“I thought so too.”
“And I want to see my own therapist so I can learn to heal and move on from this thing that nearly destroyed me.”
The back of my eyelids burn from how much pain I caused her. “We can ask for recommendations. I feel like the biggest idiot for not thinking of it before.”
“None of us were thinking clearly before. Forgiveness was impossible then.”
My heart starts racing. “And now? Have I earned your forgiveness, Ellie?”
We haven’t talked about it. The future? Sure. The baby and nursery? Numerous times. Whether she can and is willing to forgive me for cheating is a topic we’ve shied away from. I was afraid of what her answer would be if I asked her straight up if she forgave me, and she probably didn’t know.
“I think I have.”
I give her a searching look. “But?”
She raises her eyebrow. “What makes you think there’s a but?”
“The pause.”
It wasn’t much of one. Just long enough that I couldn’t help but notice it.
“Sometimes I get scared,” she admits. “I know the marriage counselor said that’s normal after a betrayal, and that I will sometimes wonder if I did the right thing and be scared you might hurt me again.
But we both want to save our marriage, and she’s going to help us do that.
I just wish things could go back to the way they were. ”
“I’m so sorry, Ellie. For shattering your trust.” I hope she hears the anguish in my voice. The regret. I’d crawl back into the past and undo what I did if I could.
“I know,” she says with a small sigh. “And I know not everything can stay the same, or that any of us can go back to who we were before. We have to take each other as we are now.”
Wary and too afraid to hope, I ask, “You sound like you’ve made a decision.”
“I want you to move back home.”
My heart leaps even as I order myself not to get too excited. “I don’t want you to rush this, Ellie. Not for me to move back home and you to be uncomfortable.”
“I’m ready for us to be a family again.” She touches her lips to mine. “Jump with both feet, Olsen.”
Once Ellie knows what she wants, she goes for it. It’s her family's slogan. They’re all alike in that way.
Lila, Ellie’s sister, moved to Paris to go to culinary school despite not knowing any French, determined to learn from the best. Her dad is the most confident person I've ever met.
Her mom is laser-focused on whatever she sets her mind to, and does it with a smile and a level of ease that makes me think she could handle any crisis thrown her way.
I learned a lot from loving my wife, more than she learned from me.
A grin tugs at my mouth, and I slide my palm around her nape, extending the kiss. “That’s a dangerous habit, baby.”
“You only get one life,” she says. “I don’t intend to waste it. I love you, Jackson Olsen, and I want you to move back home.”
I make a decision about something that’s been on my mind for the last few weeks. “Wait there a sec’. I’ll be right back.”
Feeling her confusion, I climb out of bed, pull on my briefs and head downstairs.
In the kitchen, I rifle through three cupboards to find what I’m looking for.
Hurrying back upstairs, Ellie is sitting with her back against the headboard with a sheet covering her naked body.
I sit on the edge of the bed and take her hand. “Marry me.”
Her amused gaze drifts from my face to the Funyun I’m holding toward her.
Her lip twitches. “That’s a potato chip, not an engagement ring, Jackson.”
Lucky for me, Ellie has had a lifelong addiction to onion ring chips. She can inhale a large packet in minutes. I’m not sure what I would have grabbed for this spontaneous proposal, but it’s all I could think of.
“I couldn’t find anything else ring-shaped to propose to you,” I say.
Her amusement grows. “We’re already married.”
“Yes.” I kiss her. “But I want to marry you again.”
“Because?”
“You’re the only woman I want for the rest of my life. The woman I love with my whole heart, who completes me in ways I never realized until I lost you, and who I will make happy each day until my dying breath.”
Even before I’ve finished speaking, she’s brushing tears from her eyes. “Yes. Yes, I want to marry you.”
I slide the onion ring onto her finger and draw her into a deep hug. “I love you, Ellie.”
“I love you too, Jackson.”
“We’ll plan another wedding. Big or small, whatever you want.”
“Small,” she says. “Just friends and family, and maybe in the backyard.”
“And I’ll get you another ring.”
Her ring is still on my nightstand in my apartment. I haven’t known what to do with it all this time, but waking up beside Ellie, watching her as she slept, I knew I wanted—no, needed—to marry her again.
“Do I need a new ring?” she pulls back to ask me.
“I did something I never believed I ever would. I broke my vow to be faithful to you. This is a new promise, a commitment to be the man you deserve.”
“Okay,” she says tearfully, “I’d like that a lot.”
I dip my head, kissing her. I’m laying her down when she breaks the kiss.
“Um, Jackson?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
She lifts her hand. “Can you take this off my finger? The onion is burning.”
“Shit. Sorry.” I pull it off, setting the crumbled chip on the nightstand as she grins up at me.
“It’s okay. Best snack in the world, but terrible as an engagement ring.”
“Agreed. The next ring I slide on your finger will not be an onion ring.” I marvel at having a second chance I don’t deserve. “Thank you for your trust. I will never shatter it again.”
She looks up at me, love in her eyes and her lips curving in a smile. “I believe you, and I forgive you.”
My head dips, and I claim her lips in a kiss that promises so much more than love and faithfulness. Ellie is my world, and I will never stop being grateful that she’s the brightest light in my life.