19. Clara
CLARA
Why did I drink so much last night?
Right. Because I was having fun. That three letter word that made me feel so alive in the heat of the moment, but was now rearing its ugly head, reminding me of the aftereffects that would torture me for days to come.
I was not accustomed to partying, and with how much I drank, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that I would pay dearly for my night of freedom.
Rolling my head to the side on the smooth wood surface of the table, I barely caught a glimpse of my sexy husband through the blurriness of my vision.
He was a sight to behold in only a towel, and it struck me as odd that he was walking around with it slung low around his waist when he hadn’t done that since the kids were just babies.
I sighed dreamily.
I missed this side of him.
Early mornings where he walked around, showcasing those hard abs that had now become less defined with lack of use.
He still got out and worked on the ranch, but it was nothing like it used to be when he was out working with the cattle.
Those long, hard days had kept him in shape over the years, but now…
Well, he had a bit of a dad bod.
And while I still found him extremely attractive, I imagined it was similar to how he looked at me when I walked around in those grandma clothes. I still loved the man he was, but I missed the way he used to cart me around as if I weighed nothing at all.
A plate of food was placed on the table directly beside my face, but the smell made me gag, nearly sending me to the bathroom.
“Come on, baby,” he rumbled as I groaned and turned my head away. “I know you don’t want to, but you need to get something in your stomach.”
“Uh-uh.”
Sighing, my husband hauled me into his arms, then plopped me down on his lap. My arms immediately went around his neck, holding him tight as I buried my face against his throat. God, he smelled good.
“Baby, you’re not going to feel any better if you don’t eat.”
“Feel nauseous,” I murmured.
“I know, baby. Come on. Just one bite.”
I shook my head, but turned anyway, opening my mouth a scant inch for him to shove the fork inside. I tasted nothing but vomit and alcohol, and if I thought about it too hard, I’d only end up back in the bathroom.
But as it was, I did my best to follow his instructions, knowing he had more experience with this than me. By the time he relented, I just wanted to go back to sleep. I was exhausted and it felt like every muscle in my body was on fire.
There was no way I was ever drinking like that again.
Girls night out could suck it.
“Bed,” I murmured, still too weak to move on my own.
“I know, baby.”
Getting to his feet, he effortlessly carried me upstairs, but instead of taking me to bed, he carried me to the bathroom.
“Let’s brush your teeth. You’ll never feel better with that taste in your mouth.”
I appreciated his thoughtfulness, and it vaguely ran through my mind that he was being a little too nice to me, but I didn’t have the brain power to think too much about it in my current state.
When I was done, I wobbled on unsure legs back to bed, guided by his arm around my waist. The moment I was under the covers, I passed out, not waking up until the sun was setting.
When I rolled over, I was surprised to find him in the armchair, his head crooked at an awkward angle as he slept.
So, it wasn’t a dream. He really was here the whole time, taking care of me when I had kicked him out. I didn’t entirely understand why, and I wasn’t sure I cared at the moment. I was just grateful he had been here.
Slipping out of bed as quietly as possible, I had to brace myself against the bed as dizziness washed over me. I still wasn’t at one hundred percent, or even seventy percent, but as I made my way to the bathroom, I was relieved that I didn’t feel like vomiting.
“Are you feeling better?” Ben asked, surprising me as I crept back to bed a few minutes later.
Gasping, I held my hand to my chest, hoping my heart didn’t thump right out of my chest. “Geezus, you scared me.”
“Sorry.”
“Why are you sleeping in the chair?” I asked as I crawled back into bed.
“I didn’t think I’d be welcome in bed with you.”
His throaty rumble eased my nerves, lulling me back to sleep. But before I could drift back off into the land of slumber, he said something that shocked the hell out of me.
“I’m sorry.”
My eyes popped open, and even in the fading light, I could see the sincerity on his face. I couldn’t remember the last time Ben had apologized for anything. His pride usually got in the way of admitting when he was wrong.
Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, his hands rubbing slowly together. Waves of discomfort rolled off him, but I paid no attention to that as I waited with bated breath for his next words.
“I know I haven’t been easy to live with lately, and I’m sorry for that. Hell, there’s so much I need to apologize for.”
When he finally looked up at me, his eyes meeting mine, I was taken aback by the misery in their depths.
“You deserved so much more. You needed a husband who loved and cared for you, and I…I failed miserably at that.”
Getting to his feet, he walked around to my side of the bed and sat down beside me, taking my hand in his. “Tell me I haven’t screwed things up beyond repair. Tell me we can work this out.”
I desperately wanted to. The words lingered on the tip of my tongue, but I also knew that a simple apology wouldn’t fix what was wrong with us.
Yes, he realized things were bad, but would he actually take the steps to change his behavior?
I couldn’t give him false hope. I couldn’t pretend that one night of sitting by my side and taking care of me would repair the years of damage he’d inflicted.
“What’s changed?” I croaked out.
“What do you mean?”
I shifted into a more comfortable position, looking squarely at him. “I appreciate you spending the night with me and taking care of me. More than you could possibly know. But it doesn’t fix what’s wrong with us.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?” I didn’t mean for the words to come out so harshly, but between feeling so exhausted and the knowledge that this one simple gesture didn’t fix a damn thing, I didn’t have the patience this morning.
“Yeah, I know I’ve screwed up,” he snapped, his words lacking the sincerity and softness of moments before. “But I can’t fix a damn thing if I’m not here.”
“That might be true, but I’m just not ready for things to go back to the way they were.”
“Who said they would?”
“Ben, you can’t honestly expect me to believe that you’ve had some great epiphany, and now things are going to magically turn around.”
Shoving to his feet, he paced away from me, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t get it. I’m back here. I took care of you all night. I respected your boundaries, and yet, that’s still not good enough!”
“And what’s going to happen when you come home?” I asked, trying to hold my temper. “What’s going to change?”
“I’m going to change!” he shouted. “I know I haven’t been here for you. I know I’ve let things slide.”
“It’s not just our relationship!” I shouted, making my head throb even more than it had been. “Don’t you see? Fixing us isn’t enough. Not anymore!”
“Then what the hell do you want from me?”
I sank back into the pillows, tears filling my eyes. “You need to fix you.”
The words delivered a devastating blow that knocked him back a step. I wished I could take them back the moment they left my mouth, but they were already out there.
The damage was done.
He stepped back, shredding his fingers through his hair as he stoically tried and failed to keep the hurt from his face. “I had no idea you thought I needed to be fixed.”
“Ben—”
“It’s fine.”
I knew those two words all too well. He’d heard them enough from me. The discussion was over. Talking any further was not on the table.
“I hope you’re feeling better soon,” he mumbled before he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.
His boots thumped on the stairs, and seconds later, the door slammed behind him. If I had been hoping to save my marriage, I’d gone about it all the wrong way. My words didn’t come out at all as I meant them, but that didn’t matter.
I couldn’t take them back, and Ben was too proud to sit here and listen to my explanations a moment longer than he had to.
I had to find a way to fix this. I didn’t want my marriage to be over— I just didn’t want to be stuck in a rut any longer.
No one ever told me living with a man would only get harder as I got older. Or how much work it would be after the kids left the house. I’d expected my life to be filled with joy, and instead, I was staring down the road of divorce court if things didn’t change.