19|A Temporary Feeling
I fixed my collar in the mirror, smoothing down the last wrinkle in my blouse.
I glanced at the empty bed.
Nate hadn't returned last night, so I guess we're back to whatever we had going on before.
He takes every chance he gets to leave me.
My eyes were puffy, but the makeup covered most of it...almost.
Gosh, why did I let him get to me last night?
I pulled my curls into a low, sleek bun and stared at my reflection.
Sharp. Controlled. Unbothered.
Exactly how everyone needs to see me...especially my husband.
Exactly how I don't feel.
I grabbed my bag and headed towards the front door.
Nate was in the kitchen, silent, as he poured himself his usual black coffee.
He looked up when I passed, but I didn't stop.
I didn't want to see him...not after humiliating myself in front of him last night.
"Naomi," he called, but I pretended not to hear as I stepped into my heels.
A few seconds later, he was grabbing my hand. "Naomi."
"I have to go, Nate," I insisted, avoiding eye contact with him.
"You can go after you have breakfast with me," he ordered which caught me off guard.
Nate made breakfast for us?
I glanced past him, toward the kitchen.
Two plates.
Two toasts.
Scrambled eggs.
Avocado slices fanned out like he Googled how to make it look good.
My throat tightened, but swallows it down.
"Why?"
"Because I'm sorry and I really want us to work," he replied, sounding genuine; at least the most caring tone he's used in months.
I looked at the table again, at his effort.
"I'm trying Nae," he said as he slowly stretched out his hand to me.
For a moment, I didn't know what to say, so I took his hand and allowed him to guide me.
We began eating in silence before I paused.
"Don't you have a hearing this morning?" I suddenly asked, remembering his phone call from last night.
"Pushed it back until this afternoon," he simply shrugged which made me even more confused.
"But you never push back court," I said. "And you hate afternoon hearings."
He shrugged again. "Some things matter more."
My whole body froze as I watched him.
A part of me wanted so bad to believe him and to soften.
I wanted to lean into him...lean into us.
But I can't.
I keep remembering how cruel he can get because of his hatred towards me.
"If you say so," I simply replied.
He sighed. "Naomi, I'm going to need you to work with me here. There's two of us in this marriage."
"I'm trying," I bitterly muttered.
The room fell silent and I knew I ruined it by his disappointed facial expression.
He suddenly stood up, pushing his chair quietly before walking over to the counter.
He placed both hands on the marble counter and lowered his head.
I watched him for a moment, unsure if I should follow.
The man who tore me apart in court was also the man who made me breakfast this morning.
The man who left me in pieces was now the one trying to hold me together.
The man who I swore would be my enemy was also my husband.
Why the hell is our marriage so complicated?
I stood.
Walked over, slow and cautious, until I was behind him.
My hand brushed lightly against his back as I leaned in, and I pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder.
My lips barely touched the fabric of his shirt.
"I'm trying," I repeated with more meaning.
He suddenly stood up straighter, pulling away from the counter...from me.
I took a step back instinctively.
His expression was unreadable which scared the poop out of me.
"I know you're trying," he agreed. "So am I."
"So why are we fighting?" I asked, feeling so tired.
"I don't know," he replied, just as tired as he pressed his forehead against mine. "Why did we let it get to this point?"
"I don't know," I whispered back, my hands finding their way to the edge of his shirt. "We used to be good."
"We used to be us," he corrected, his voice soft.
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.
I felt his heartbeat below my palm.
It was steady and familiar.
"Dr. Hartman said we should give kissing a try," I reminded him.
He didn't move. "I remember. She thought it might help us feel safe again."
I nodded. "Do you want to give it a try?"
He finally lifted his head before meeting my eyes with tiredness and heaviness.
"I do," he simply agreed before leaning in and giving me a quick peck.
When he pulled back, something inside me reached to him.
My hand slid up to the back of his neck, and I pulled him in again.
That peck wasn't enough.
It wasn't satisfying.
It didn't give me what I needed.
What we needed.
This time, our mouths met with more intent, more clarity.
He was kissing me back with equal force.
It wasn't perfect.
In fact, it was messy...desperate.
A collision of pain, love, hate, and guilt.
There was no hesitation, just our quiet desperation that had been building up for way too long.
His hands found my waist like muscle memory, gripping me tight before gripping my ass even tighter.
My fingers curled in his shirt as our mouths moved together with more hunger than expected.
It had been months since we kissed.
MONTHS.
Maybe even nearly a year since our marriage started to fall apart way before I gave birth.
However, it didn't feel like months.
His lips still felt so familiar, like it was my usual home.
He pulled me closer, so my chest pressed hard against his.
"Fuck," he muttered roughly against my lips as he held me tighter.
I couldn't help but smile for a second, that kind of bittersweet, breathless smile you only give someone you've missed and hated missing.
Then I tilted my head and pressed my tongue lightly to his lips, wondering if I still knew what to do after all these months.
He groaned softly and opened for me, like he'd been waiting for that moment all this time.
Our tongues met in a messy, hungry rhythm, and gosh, it was overwhelming how natural it felt.
His hands slid lower, gripping my hips, keeping me steady as he deepened the kiss.
It was raw, careless, and just what I needed.
I moaned softly into his lips, letting my hands wander on my husband's chest, my fingers curling into the collar of his work shirt.
His breath was hot against my lips, his mouth relentless now, like we both knew this was our only chance to feel like us again.
And within seconds it was ruined.
His damn phone.
He froze, but I kept my eyes closed as I continued to kiss him, not wanting the moment to end.
But it did.
He pulled back, cursing under his breath. "Shit...it's the DA's office."
His grip loosened, and the warmth of him started to fade as he stepped further away from me.
"I have to take this," he muttered apologetically.
I nodded, stepping back even though I didn't want to. "Go. It's fine."
"Are you sure?"
I forced a smile and nodded. "Yeah, I should get going now anyways."
He nodded before giving me one last look and walking out with his phone.
I wrapped my arms around myself, pulse still racing, lips swollen and aching.
My phone buzzed on the counter and sighed when I saw Kate's name.
Of course. Just what I needed.
In the living room next door, Nate's voice grew sharper on the phone, using his prosecutor tone.
He sounded focused, control, and like he always won.
I grabbed my bag and headed to the front door as my chest tightened, that familiar weight settling right back on my shoulders.
Maybe whatever that kiss was...it belonged to another version of ourselves.
Dr. Hartman was right.
The kiss did make us feel better, but only temporarily.