Chapter 18
Christian
“Lana, stop it,” I groan, walking toward my car. “I’m fine.”
“No you are not! Where are you going?”
I turn and lean back against the car, wishing she wouldn’t make a scene out here on the sidewalk. I groan.“I just need to go to the store.”
Lana stomps her foot like a child, her arms crossed over her chest, with a glare that is shooting bullets. “Okay,” she says. “Fine. Then I have a list of things I need you to bring back. Since you’re going to the store.”
“Lana…”
“Say it, Christian!” She shoves my chest and my back knocks in the car. “Fucking say it to my face. You’re going to buy alcohol! Don’t treat me like I’m stupid!”
“I never said you were stupid,” I mumble.
“Go, Christian!” With her nostrils flared and her caramel eyes on fire, she steps back from me. “Go then! But I swear to whatever god exists that if you get back here with a bottle or a case of anything, I am done. You’re out or I’m leaving, I don’t care.”
“Lana,” I scoff. “Stop.”
“No,” she says so quietly that the tone of the two letter word makes me stand straighter. “I refuse to sit around while I watch the man I love—” She pauses when her voice severely cracks, her shoulders trembling. “I won’t watch you turn into your dad, Christian.”
I run my tongue over my teeth and nod. “Nice one, Lana.”
“Yeah?” She laughs dryly, and she keeps scaring me. My heart is moving too fast and my palms are too sweaty. I feel my bones shaking from the anxiety, and I need something. “Okay then.”
She says it like a threat. No—No she spits it out like a bullet, and it shoots directly into my heart.
She’s right. I am turning into my alcoholic father.
Lana turns on her heels and lets herself back into the apartment building. She doesn’t spare me another glance or moment of her time as the door slams behind her.
I groan with my fingers in my hair, pulling at the strand. “Fuck.” I take a deep breath and my fists slam down onto the top of the car. “Fuck!”
My left hand pulls the handle of the door, opening it just a few inches.
I picture Lana packing her bags, removing any evidence of herself in that apartment.
If I leave, she’s going to pull off the greatest disappearing act of all time, and I’ll be…
drunk. Drunk and then dead on our apartment floor, grieving the only woman I’ve ever loved because I couldn’t get a hold of myself.
She’ll be gone because I couldn’t go long enough without a taste of beer or tequila or whiskey or something. Because I allowed it to become the most important thing in my life.
“Fuck,” I grumble and slam the car door closed.
Unsteady, I walk to the door and let myself into the building.
I take the stairs to the third floor apartment, one at a time, regaining my composure.
I turn the knob on our door and it opens.
She’s pacing through the apartment, folded clothes gathered in her hands as she goes back and forth between our room and the bags she’s laid out on our couch.
“Lana,” I rasp.
She keeps moving, ignoring me and filling her bags. Rightfully so.
Lana drops a few pairs of jeans into a duffle bag and shuffles back into our bedroom, and I catch up to her. In our room, my arm wraps around her waist and I hold her to my chest. I bury my face in her neck, and her body heaves against mine, her sobbing muffled.
“Please,” I choke. “Please don’t leave me.”
“I can’t keep doing this, Christian,” she cries as her body gives out. My hold on her is tight enough to keep her up on her feet. “Everyday, you’re fading away from me.”
“I know,” I whisper. “I know, I’m sorry.”
“Except you’re not,” Lana croaks and steadies herself on my shoulders as she turns in my arms. “You say it all the time and we keep coming back to this.”
“I’ll…” I swallow. “I’ll go to the meetings. I’ll stop.”
Lana shakes her head. “No. Go because you want to go.” She sniffles and wipes her cheek and under her nose with the back of her wrist. “Don’t go because you’re scared of losing me.”
“I’m always gonna be scared of losing you.”
“Prove it,” she whispers. On her toes, she puts her forehead to mine. “But do it for you.”
I’m staring out her back door, overlooking the hills as the sun rises.
I’m thinking it’s time to buy her a big, grand lake house that has been her dream from the start. I could build a dock for us to lie or sit on, swing our legs off the edge to dip our toes in the water. And we can fill it up with kids or dogs or cats—whatever she wants.
The mug in my hand has gone cold now, the coffee no longer steaming with smoke swirling above it. I only took one sip before that memory hit me like a drowning current.
“You’re up early.”
I turn to find something brighter than the sun. Her soft brown waves are in frizzy tangles, her eyes are squinted the way they are after just waking up, and she yawns as she grabs the empty mug I left out for her.
“I have nothing else to do.” Except now, I’ll be talking to a local realtor. Lana fills her mug with coffee and takes a giant sip before topping it off. “Are you busy today?”
“I work everyday,” she rasps, turning to lean on her forearms over the island.
I tread carefully, moving to take a seat across from her. “Do you need help?”
“No,” she breathes. “I’m just…busy. I have errands I have to run before I start getting ready.”
“It’s six, Lana,” I say softly.
She’s working herself dry.
“I open at nine, it’s fine,” Lana mumbles and takes another sip of coffee.
“Give me a list,” I say without much thought.
She blinks. “What?”
I hitch a shoulder. “Give me a list of things you need to do. Groceries or laundry, whatever. I’ll do it.”
Lana chuckles.
“What’s funny?”
“I don’t even think you know what a domestic life is anymore, Christian,” she teases, smiling. “Are you going to go to the supermarket in a custom five thousand dollar suit?”
I smirk. “I only have one of those and you know it.”
“You’re incorrigible,” she muses, rolling her eyes and lifting the mug to her lips.
I jump from the stool and follow her as she rounds the island. “Lana, baby—” My hand catches her elbow. “Give me a list and go back to sleep for another hour.”
Her eyes narrow. “Do I look like shit or something?”
I swallow. Her hair is messy, her longer bangs are in all different directions, there’s a line stamped down her cheek from her pillow, her eyes are so beautiful, and…well, her nipples are poking through her t-shirt.
“No,” I rasp.
“Stop looking at my boobs,” she snaps.
My eyes snap up. “I wasn’t—”
She chuckles. “Christian.”
I arch a brow. “Lana.”
“Christian, I’m too tired to be objectified, okay? Just tell me you think I look like shit so I can tell you that you need a haircut.”
I scoff. “I do not need a haircut.”
“Yes you do,” she chuckles. “Everything is growing out and your scruff is coming in thick and too long. Are you going all cave man too? You know, for humility reasons?” Lana arches a brow.
I narrow my eyes at her, but end up laughing. “Just give me a list, baby. Please, let me do this.”
Her shoulders drop and her eyes droop with exhaustion, her body giving up the fight. “I’m so tired…”
“Please,” I whisper, my hands drifting down her arm until her hand is in mine. I intertwine our fingers and whisper again, “Please, baby.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod and drop her hand so I can wrap my arms around her instead. “Yes, Lana. Let me help you.”
Lana sighs stubbornly. “I’ll make you a list and leave you cash.”
“No cash. Just the list.”
“You are not paying for my groceries.”
“I have, I am, and I will.”
She glares up at me with her tired eyes. “Christian.”
“Lana.”
She rolls her eyes, struggling to keep her smile small and contained.
“Permission to kiss you?” I ask.
“No,” she answers quickly and crosses her arms over her chest, holding onto her mug securely. Her lip tip up. “Yes.”
I move in deliberately slowly and wait. Her eyes drop to my lips before her lips part, and her breath hitches. “If you’re always going to be a tease about it, I’m revoking your kissing privileges.”
I huff and cup her face. “Shut up,” I groan and press my lips against hers. There is no waiting when her lips part with mine and our tongues graze against each other. I revel in the kiss and I don’t bother to tamper down all the sensations that come along with kissing her.
“I love you,” I blurt against her lips, my hands drifting down the curve of her ass before I give it a hard squeeze.
Lana releases a quiet gasp, her free hand fisting my shirt to the point of fabric tearing, and pulls me in, kissing me harder.
Fuck the mug in her other hand, keeping us apart.
I’m prepared to let it fall and clean up the mess after I’ve pressed her against the wall, stripped her naked, and made love to her before we go our separate ways for the day.
Kissing her now, I’m reminded of those lackadaisical mornings we spent in bed before classes or work.
The times her or my kisses went from quiet good mornings to a passionate joining of ourselves.
And I wish I could do that now without feeling like I’m going to disappoint her once I tell her the truth.
There is a chance she might hate me after she knows the things I’ve done.
Could she hate me?
I hate me for it, it would only make sense if she did too.
Savoring this final kiss, I pull away abruptly. Her fist is unyielding and her breaths come heavy and fast, just as mine do. “Christian?” she says. “What is it?”
I shake my head and swallow. “Nothing.” My hands come back up to curl around her hips, my thumbs pressing into the bones. “Nothing.”
“I know that look.”
I force my lips to give her a smile, but it is merely a twitch. “I’m okay.”
“What’s in your head?”
“Nothing, baby,” I lie. “I promise.”
She hums with incredulity. “I’ll let it go for now because I know you’ll tell me later.”
I dip my chin. “Send me your list, okay? I’ll go. Go back to sleep, baby.”