7. abbi #2
“Abbi?” he grunts. I lift my eyes to his, and the worry that meets me drags me out of my head. “Abbi, are you okay? What’s wrong?” His warm hands rub back and forward along my thighs, his thumbs coming awfully close to my pussy.
My immediate instinct is to soothe him. I don’t want him to worry.
I’ve already upset him enough this week by asking for a divorce.
I don’t need to make things worse when he said he’d try to do better.
I force a smile and place my hands on top of his, then squeeze, stopping their path.
“Nothing. I’m okay. I just felt a little dizzy.
I haven’t eaten since three.” I drop my eyes to my hands, still holding his.
He dips to capture my gaze. “Maybe I should feed you first, then we can shower.”
I push my lips higher, shaking my head as I wave off his suggestion. “I’m okay. Really. I can wait ten minutes, and I’d prefer to shower the day away first, anyway.”
Nix climbs to his feet and pulls me up. He spins me toward the bathroom and smacks my ass playfully.
When did we get to this point? Doesn’t he realize how broken we are?
As much as I want his touch, it’s not welcome right now.
We have a long way to go before that point.
If we ever get there at all. “All right, then. Let’s get you undressed. ”
My eyebrows shoot upward, and I freeze in place.
Apart from the disconnect between us that Nix seems oblivious to, I’m not groomed down there, I’m in the middle of a fucking heavy period that seems to have no end, and let’s not mention my basic underwear.
I think my panties even have a hole along the elastic that holds them up.
I’ll be the first to admit I’ve let myself go a little.
I didn’t see the point when there was no one to appreciate my efforts.
If only I’d known my long-lost husband was going to make an appearance tonight, I’d have been prepared.
Actually, maybe I wouldn’t have been prepared. He needs to earn his way back into my panties after I know I can trust him with my heart. Seems dumb to hold out at this point when we’ve been together for so long, but I can’t open my body to a man I can’t trust with my heart.
Nix pushes me gently from behind. “C’mon, Abs. The sooner we’re done in here, the sooner I can feed you.”
“You go first.” I jab my thumb over my shoulder. “I need to get fresh clothes.” How do I tell him I don’t want to shower with him. It’s too intimate.
He stops, still freaking naked, and studies me closely.
His eyes narrow as they trace every part of my face.
“It’s just a shower, Abbi. I know we’re not at a place for me to expect anything more than that,” he whispers, the muscles along his jaw softening as he laces his fingers with mine.
“I know I have work to do before we get there, but let me do this for you. Please,” he almost begs. “We need to start somewhere.”
I know we need to start somewhere, but this seems too intimate, too soon.
My shoulders drop from around my ears, and my heart slows. He looks so much like my Nix. The one who used to be attentive. The one I’ve missed so very much. Tears well at the back of my eyes, and I blink to keep them at bay. His tenderness shouldn’t bring me to tears, but it’s been so long.
I suck in a deep breath and nod against my better judgment. Disappointment sneaks into the nooks and crannies of my mind. Once again, I’m forfeiting what I want to make someone else happy.
He smiles warmly and tugs me toward the bathroom.
Once inside, he slowly removes each stitch of fabric from my body.
I know I’m still in shape—mostly. His enthusiasm for fitness rubbed off on me, and I eat healthily and exercise regularly.
But there’s still something so intimate about sharing a shower with a man, even if that man is my husband of 29 years.
Intimate in ways I’m not used to being with him anymore.
Can I do this?
Do I want to?
When I dig deep to learn what I want rather than going with the flow to keep Nix happy, I discover I don’t. I don’t want to be this vulnerable with him right now. I don’t want him to think he can show up and suddenly everything’s okay again. It’s not. Far from it.
I snatch my towel from the rack and wrap it around my body.
Looking at the ground, I take one step back and another and another until it feels like the Grand Canyon is between us, and I know it’s my fault.
But I don’t want to give in so easily. Not this time around.
I’ve been too much of a pushover for too long.
Too much of a people-pleaser. This time around, I’m going to do what I want and fuck anyone, including Nix, who doesn’t like it.
“Abbi?” The uncertain rasp in Nix’s voice has my eyes snapping upward.
“I can’t, Nix.” I shake my head. “I can’t pretend you didn’t break me.
I can’t let it go so easily just because you’ve decided to show up for a day or two.
” I fling my arm out to the side, then slap my thigh.
“It’s going to take more than bringing me breakfast and showing up for dinner to make this right. ”
He takes a step toward me, and my heart pounds in my ears.
“I know, Abigail.” He bends his knees to bring his eyes level with mine, and the sincerity I see there almost undoes me.
“I know I’ve been selfish and neglectful.
I’ll spend the rest of my days making up for my mistakes, but you’re going to have to let me do that.
You can’t shut me out when I try to connect with you.
When I try to make things right. Or we’ll never find our way forward.
” He gently grips my fingers and links his through mine.
“You’ll never understand how deeply sorry I am for doing this to you.
To us. But I want to make things right.” He crouches lower to capture my gaze again, but his face is blurry through my tears.
Reaching up, he wipes beneath my eyes with slow, gentle strokes of his thumb while he cups my face with care.
“You’re the last person in this world I ever wanted to hurt, and you’re the last person in this world I’ll ever love.
I’ll do anything to make this work. To make you love me again.
Because, Abbi, I’ve never, not for one second, stopped loving you. ”
A sob erupts over my lips, and my knees almost buckle.
If it wasn’t for Nix cupping my face, I’m certain I would be in a puddle on the bathroom floor.
He thinks I don’t love him anymore. How can he think such a thing?
It’s because I love him that I need to leave.
It’s heartbreaking to be in a relationship when you’re the only one in love.
It’s fucking demoralizing and humiliating to be ignored day in and day out.
His arms slide around my shoulders and beneath my knees, and he lifts me off my feet. Cradled against his body, he carries me into our bedroom and sits, holding me like a child.
“I’m so sorry.” His voice breaks, and his warm breath puffs across my cheek.
My body shakes with the devastation moving through it, and he tightens his hold.
I soak in his attention, his unique scent, his warmth, while he presses soft kisses to the top of my head.
It would be so easy to fall into him. To lose myself in his kisses.
Take comfort in his body. The thought that I could lose myself in him so easily is jarring.
Still, after all this time and neglect, I’d choose him over myself.
The thought kills me inside. I’m not as strong as I want to be, and the knowledge devastates me.
My body trembles, and the tears trail heavily down my cheeks as if they’ll never stop. I don’t want to break down in front of him. He doesn’t deserve my tears. He doesn’t deserve to witness my heartbreak.
He left me.
Alone.
In a marriage meant for two.
I’ve never felt so lonely. So abandoned. So neglected. And that’s saying something after the way I grew up.
I don’t want to give him any more than I already have, so I push away from him. Shoving at his broad chest, I stumble to my feet and head toward my drawers, tearing random clothes from them. I grab a pair of panties, then lock myself in the bathroom without a word.
I need a minute … or thirty.
Dropping my clothes onto the counter and hooking my towel over the shower door, I climb into the shower and turn the water to scalding. Standing with my back to the spray, I draw deep breaths of warm air. How dare he put me in the position he did. What did he expect? What did he think would happen?
Did he think I’d just go along with everything and all would be forgiven? Did he think I’d take one look at his stupidly perfect body and fall to my back with my legs wide open in invitation?
I’m worth the effort. Damn it.
It’s taken me this long to realize I deserve to be a priority in my own life and, as a bonus, I should be a priority in my husband’s life. I’m tired of accepting the bare minimum, and I finally understand I’m not asking too much when I want more.
For my own mental health and well-being, I can’t go backward when I’ve come further than I ever imagined I would.
I grab my loofah and douse it with soap, then scrub my body like it’s the enemy.
I had a moment of weakness, curled up on Nix’s lap.
One that would have cost me dearly if I’d acted on my attraction to him and my need to soothe him to keep the waters smooth.
But look where that’s gotten me so far. A woman closer to fifty, finding her voice for the first time.
I huff out a disgusted breath. I can’t back down. I refuse.