Mia
Coming home in floods of tears before calling my mom in more floods of tears wasn’t the night I’d envisioned. I told her what had happened, and I might have gotten a little annoyed with her when she sided with Tyler. Not for the words he’d said, but the fury behind them.
I get that he was pissed, but he didn’t even give me a chance to explain. He just turned into an angry-fueled idiot. Hence, why I slapped him across the face. I know that was the worst thing to do, but just hearing those harsh words broke me, especially only minutes after he took me against the door. It broke my heart that he could be so cruel. He’d made me out to be some whore who was sleeping around, hopping from dick to dick without a single worry in the world.
Not only is he wrong, but he’s also really clueless to the anxiety and depression that I’ve been dealing with. I suppose it doesn’t help that I’ve pushed him away, but he should have more faith in me, that I’m fighting to be the wife he deserves. However, when he continues to behave like a rabid dog, fighting but not winning, I find myself losing hope that we can ever be the couple we once were. It’s just the same old shit with us, and it has been like this for months. I just don’t know what to do anymore.
I love him, and the thought of being without him kills me, but I don’t know if this new version of us, the version that hurls hurtful words at one another and has sex based on anger, is the kind of couple I want us to be. It can’t be healthy.
Tears continue to fall down my cheeks as I furiously scrub the makeup off my face with a wipe, trying to make sense of my life. I thought, when I turned thirty, I’d have found my place on this earth, not feel just as disjointed as I did in my early twenties.
This evening, before it turned from bad to worse, I was ready to give Tyler another shot, to try to work through our marriage, because the thought of being without him another second more was unbearable. However, now, I feel like I’m back at square one.
Of course, I’m mentally exhausted, and that could be factoring in on my heightened emotions, so I decide to switch off and head to bed. Maybe with a good night’s sleep, I’ll have a new take on life. I mean, we can all hope, right?
Just as I change into my PJs reserved for days when I loathe myself—the pink fleece-lined hoodie that says, I’d rather be sleeping, with my matching pants—I hear a knock at my door. Since I’ve already ignored three of his calls in the past ten minutes alone, it doesn’t take a genius to guess who’s at my door.
I could ignore him and just head to bed, but I’m my own worst enemy, and I have no control over my own footsteps as they pad in the direction of the front door. I glance through the peephole, and as predicted, there stands my husband, drenched from the sudden rainstorm. I open the door, and my heart clenches at the look of pure regret I see etched on his face.
He looks how I feel.
I cross my arms over my chest, impassively staring up at him. “What do you want?”
“Mia,” he chokes out, struggling to contain his emotions.
I tell myself not to be affected by him. I beg my heart not to feel anything, but since he doesn’t show emotion very often, it’s impossible to flick the switch on it.
“I’m so fucking sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. I saw you with that guy, and I just flipped. It wasn’t my finest moment.”
You can say that again.
He gives pause for me to speak, but I continue to stare at him through my swollen eyes, my expression hard, not giving him an inch.
“Mia, tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
I shake my head, feeling my anxiety rise. “Tyler, I—” My body jolts when a crack of thunder booms from the sky above, and I swear, the ground shakes from the impact. Putting a hand to my unruly beating heart, I step aside. “I don’t particularly like you right now, but you’d better come in before you get hit by lightning.”
He accepts my invitation to come inside without an ounce of hesitation, shaking droplets of water all over my hardwood floor, his shoes dragging in sloshes of mud. He steps out of them before removing his coat, but he’s soaked all the way through to his clothes.
“I guess you would like a towel?” I throw out.
“Please.” He grimaces, as if asking is too much trouble. Then, like the joker he is, especially during awkward times like this, he says, “I’ll take a coffee, too, if you’re making one.”
He sheepishly grins, and I give him a don’t-fucking-push-it glare as I snatch the coat from him and head toward the utility room to put it in the dryer for a little while. Then, like the idiot I am, I return a few minutes later with a fluffy towel and a steaming cup of hot chocolate. I throw the towel at him before handing him his beverage.
“I’ve stopped drinking coffee, so hot chocolate is all I have.”
He gives me a knowing smile, as if that one gesture is the window to forgiveness, and I have to look away before I fall into his trap. I can’t fall into his trap twice in one night. I take a seat on the single armchair and watch out of the corner of my eye as he sets the hot chocolate down on the table and dries himself with the towel. Once he pats down his drenched hair, he takes a seat opposite me on the sofa and takes hold of his hot chocolate. He takes a sip, hissing under his breath when it burns his tongue a little. He’s always been impatient with hot beverages, and every time, he scalds his tongue like a damn child.
“Well, go on. I let you inside, so you could grovel.”
His mouth lifts up in a smirk. “I thought it was so I wouldn’t get hit by lightning.”
The stare I give him tells him I’m not in the mood for his jokes, and he straightens his face as he places his mug back down on the coffee table.
“I was a jerk back at the restaurant, plain and simple. I just saw you with that guy and assumed the worst, and what I said, it was me lashing out. I didn’t mean it. You’re not…”
“A hussy slut riddled with STDs?”
“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath before elaborating, “Mia, no. I don’t think that.” He rubs his jaw, a nervous tic of his. “Can we just have a redo, please, before I turn into Super Douche? I want to understand why you were on a date. Make me understand. I’m listening.”
I purposely avoid his eyes, looking down at my pink nails. It takes me a minute to find the words before I finally meet his eyes. “I went on a date to see where my head was at. I didn’t do it hoping to find someone to replace you. I did it for you. For us. I mean, now that I think about it, it sounds stupid, but I did it to see if I was ready to let you go or fight for us. It had nothing to do with hooking up or wanting to finally put an end to us, but it was about finally taking charge of my life.
“You might think Riley put the idea in my head out of spite, but she didn’t. She set it all up for me because I asked her to. I didn’t even know what restaurant it was at until thirty minutes before the date, and it wasn’t even five minutes into the date that I realized she’d played me good. She knew it was the same restaurant you’d proposed to me in, and she knew it would resonate in all the right places. And it worked. I’m also guessing that she knew that guy was a jackass before she set the fake date up because she knew the worse he became, the more I would think of you, and I did. God, within four seconds of meeting the guy, I knew you were the only guy for me. You were all I could think of.”
His expression is serious, his eyes filled with an indescribable emotion, a mixture of apprehension and heartache all rolled into one.
“And did you find the clarity you were after?” His voice is shaky, as if he’s not sure if he wants to know my answer.
“Actually, I did. The couple who got engaged at the restaurant made it pretty easy. I was going to finish my dinner, tell my date I had a nice evening—even though it was far from nice—and head straight to you to tell you I wanted to finally fight with you. Then…”
He winces, knowing what came next.
“Well, we know how that played out, and now, I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” he asks almost desperately.
“It means, I don’t know if I can do this back-and-forth shit. These past months, it’s been filled with the same crap between us. It’s exhausting, Tyler. I’ve missed you, and I love you, but maybe we need to…”
He’s suddenly up on his feet. He rounds the coffee table until he’s kneeling in front of me, nothing but resolve set in his eyes. “No, don’t say it. I won’t let you. I love you,” he grits out, clasping my hands between his.
In an instant, my heart is almost done for.
“Please don’t give up on us. It’s not always been like this for us. We can be happy again. We’ve just got to find our way back to each other. But, please, I’m begging you, don’t give up.”
I open my mouth to speak, but no words escape, and all I can do is stare into his eyes, the brilliant green hues swirling with so much pain that it’s enough to take my breath away. I didn’t realize just how much our breakup has affected him, but it’s there for the entire world to see. The pressure against the inner walls of my chest feels heavier than ever before.
“I’m sorry.”
He blinks, confusion flickering across his face. “What for?”
“For hurting you. I’ve been so focused on my own mental health that I haven’t taken yours into consideration. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
“Baby, I’m fine,” he says, brushing it off, as if his pain doesn’t matter. “But my world isn’t complete without you. I don’t want to be apart from you, but if it takes another four months, a year, two years until we’re where we’re supposed to be, then I can wait. Hell, I’d wait an eternity if I had to, but just know, you’re it for me. Time’s never going to change that.”
God, he always knows the right thing to say to me.
“I don’t deserve you.”
A tear rolls down my cheek, and before I have time to wipe it away, Tyler has already captured it with his thumb.
“Trust me, if anyone is less worthy or deserving of someone, that would be me. I never knew what you saw in me, but the instant I saw you, all I could see was you.”
His words speak to the deepest part of me, and having him this close to me with the warmth of his touch lingering across my cheek, my mind feels hazy, like I’m swimming in everything Tyler. I blame that for my next move.
Thoughtlessly, I grab him by the face and slam my lips to his. He responds with a surprised grunt, deepening the kiss. He tastes of Italian food and rain, and I lap it up, our kiss representing our past and present. It sends a thrill down my spine. He parts my lips with his tongue, his mouth hot and wet, heating my body in ways I’ve not felt in such a long time.
Well, excluding earlier, that is.
My legs widen and lock around his body as he shifts closer to me, drawing my head back by my hair, deepening the kiss even more. We simply lose our senses in this kiss. I forgot how much I loved just kissing him, the way he nibbles against my bottom lip and how he doubles the flicks of his tongue against mine.
Perfection.
A sudden crack of thunder from outside jolts through my body, scaring the shit out of me.
Tyler must feel me tense as he pulls me in even closer. “Don’t be scared. I’m right here.”
He knows I hate thunder, and I love him for it.
I draw his mouth back to mine, but he seems to have other ideas as he gently pulls away, tugging against the waistband of my PJ bottoms.
“You only wear these when you’re feeling self-conscious, and I hate it.”
I lift my bottom up as he slides them over my hips.
“I hate it more that I’m the reason you’re wearing them.”
He’s right; I am, but I don’t comment on it as I’m amazed that he’s picked up on it because it’s something I’ve never brought up. Inner insecurities and all.
He pulls my pants down and off my legs. He discards them before running his fingers up my silky calves and along my thighs, his sheer touch sending shivers to caress along my skin. Heat rises through me, and I begin to pulsate as his fingers trace higher until he’s skimming the edge of my panties. He lowers his head, and I let out an erratic gasp as his mouth lingers over me, my pussy throbbing at his near presence. My fingers find their way into his hair just as he plants his lips just above my clit, the warmth of his mouth heating through the lace of my panties. His lips continue upward, pressing lingering kisses against my lower stomach and over the swell of my belly, lifting my hoodie up as he continues higher in his pursuit. I’m breathing heavily, and my heart races as he looks up at me, my fingers dancing in his hair, his lips still on my skin.
“These pajamas should never make their way onto your body. You should never let anyone, including me, lower your worth.”
His mouth works its way north, continuing to lift my hoodie until my breasts spring free, swaying heavily, my nipples growing harder under his stare. He kisses the center of my breastbone, and I let out a jittery breath, wishing he would move his mouth to the center of one of my actual breasts where I’m desperately craving his touch.
“Your body is perfection, and you should never hide it away,” he says in between kisses, his lips slowly gliding over the plump of my tit, kissing the mound with utter devotion.
His hot, wet tongue flicks over my nipple before circling it, and I’m unable to contain the moan that rushes from my mouth.
He chuckles, talking around my nipple, as he continues to toy with my flesh like I’m a sweet candy apple, “Well, maybe keep these hidden.”
I laugh from a breathless groan. “I’m not one for giving the milk away for free.”
“Good, because the milk’s all mine,” he huskily speaks, his tongue swirling around my nipple before sucking it into his mouth.
My eyes almost roll to the back of my head as I tug against his hair, pulling him even closer, while I clench my thighs around his body, rocking my hips against him. He grazes my nipple with his teeth, adding a little more suction before pulling away. He zones in on my chest, kissing his way up to my shoulder blade, nibbling and licking the dip that connects to my neck while simultaneously lifting the hoodie up over my head and discarding it to the floor. I tilt my head to the side as Tyler kisses my neck, my eyes flickering closed with the pleasure when he zones in on the spot just below my ear.
“Tyler,” I whimper, hugging him closer to me, my fingers kneading the muscles of his shoulders, loving how hard and big he feels between my hands.
He’s definitely bulked up since I last saw him, and it’s sexy as hell.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he whispers in my ear before circling his tongue around my earlobe.
I involuntary shift my hips against his stomach, my thighs clutching to him even tighter, needing to ease the pressure of my pulsating clit.
“Tyler, please,” I beg, clawing at him with my nails.
He ignores my pleas and continues to whisper in my ear, the warmth of his breath causing every nerve ending in my body to tingle with pleasure, “I love you and everything about you. Your mind, your body, your touch, your mouth.”
He pulls away and works his way back down my body with a mixture of kisses, licks, and bites. My entire body is trembling with need when he reaches south, and he slowly begins to peel my panties from me.
“I also love your pussy.” The erotic way he husks out the word pussy sends another thrill of desire shooting through my body. “I missed it so much.”
He pulls me further down the chair by my thighs and forces my legs wider for him. His hands smooth over my inner thighs while he continues to speak, his voice now hushed with lust, “I didn’t get much of a reunion earlier, but now”—he lowers his head downward, and all the while, he parts my pussy lips with his thumbs—“I’m ready to focus my attention on her.”
He lightly breathes over my bare flesh, initiating more shivers to erupt along every inch of my skin. Then, he’s on me, and my God, it’s better than I remembered.
“Tyler, yes!” I scream as his mouth and tongue do unimaginable things to me, feasting on me like I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.
He gathers my legs over his shoulders without coming up for air, and I find myself slipping further down the chair until my ass is hanging off, Tyler’s grip the only thing holding me in place. I buck against his face, my legs like a vise around his neck, breathlessly moaning with every flick of his tongue.
“Keep doing that. Yes, keep doing it. I’m so close,” I whimper as my hips rock even faster against his face, earning me grunts of approval and a slap to my ass.
The sound of thunder cracks loudly, but I hardly register it, as I’m too focused on the incredible things Tyler is currently inflicting on me.
When he adds a finger and then a second, it takes only mere seconds until my entire world spins on its axis, and I explode around him, unable to stop the involuntary giggle that bursts from me as my body convulses with the impact of the climax.
Jesus, fuck. It’s been a long time since I’ve lost control like that.
Just then, another clap of thunder strikes, and the lights suddenly go out, covering us in complete darkness.
Tyler’s face glows golden orange, thanks to the freshly lit candles flickering through the darkness. Rain pelts harshly against my windows as thunder and lightning continue to wage a war against the Texan skies.
I’m sitting in the armchair with my legs hanging over the armrest, wrapped in Tyler’s arms, a blanket covering us.
A shiver goes through me when I realize Tyler is still wet from the rain.
I tug at his T-shirt. “Your T-shirt is still wet,” I complain.
Tyler gives me a wicked grin. “Well, that’s an easy fix,” he says while lifting the shirt up over his head and dropping it to the floor.
“Your pants, too,” I say, my bare ass feeling cold against his damp jeans.
“Are you just trying to get me naked?”
I giggle. “No, you’ll catch a cold if you stay in them.”
I shift from his lap as he peels out of his jeans. Once he’s naked, I resume my position and clutch the blanket closer to us. I tell myself it’s to keep the cold at bay, but really, it’s because I’ve missed this feeling of his warmth in such an intimate way. I’ve spent four lonely months missing his touch and having no idea what tomorrow holds. I decide that, in this moment, I need him as close as possible.
He plays with a lock of my hair as I caress the back of his neck.
“Your hair’s grown,” he muses as a flash of lightning illuminates the room for a split second, followed by a rumble of thunder a few beats later.
I clench my eyes shut as my body jolts at the sound, and Tyler gives out a low laugh.
“How is it that you’ve survived this long, living in Texas, and you still can’t cope with tropical storms?”
“I usually get so drunk, I pass out.”
He presses his lips against my head, chuckling. “The answer to all things Mother Nature.”
“That, or Xanax,” I respond lightheartedly.
“Talking of alcohol, I noticed you weren’t drinking earlier,” he points out.
I nod. “You’re so observant of the littlest things.”
“Well, I seem to always notice the little things. Like how you only like one percent milk on your cereal, how you’re always so quiet during your period, and how you have to buy hypoallergenic Band-Aids because you come out in a rash if you wear normal ones.”
I’m unable to hide my smile. “What else do you notice about me?” I ask, intrigued.
“Well, you hate purple. You only like one fruit, and that’s kiwi. You cry at sad films, but you also laugh when people die in horror movies.”
“Only because of how dumb the characters are. It’s like they’re asking to get murdered.”
“True,” Tyler agrees with a laugh. “You have a weird phobia of cats, especially Siamese. You only like crushed ice, not cubed. You love mayo on just about anything. You sing like no one is watching while you’re driving in the car, and you secretly watch Keeping Up with the Kardashians.”
I simply stare at him, astonished that he knows all of that. It’s stuff that’s never come up in conversation, mundane stuff I never thought he paid attention to. My heart races at that thought.
“It’s like you’re able to read minds or something.”
“No, I’m just so attuned to everything you do. I always have been. All I see is you and all your wonderful quirks.”
I lean further into him and press a lingering kiss to his bare chest just as the room lights up with more lightning, followed by more thunder. Tyler holds me closer to him, his hands soothing my trembling body from the nuclear-like sounds from outside.
“So, you weren’t drinking tonight,” he prompts a second time.
I realize I never answered him. “Yeah, I’ve been easing off the wine for a while now. It was impairing my judgment, so my therapist suggested to follow the sobriety route for a little bit while I work through my stuff.”
“You’re still seeing your therapist?”
I frown, confused. “How did you know I was seeing a therapist?” I never told him that.
“I was kind of keeping tabs on you through Jo, and she told me a while ago. I was seeing one myself.”
“You were?”
“Yeah. After you left me, I was a mess. It was during the first two months—when you thought I’d gone MIA. I was seeing a therapist twice a week. Then, when I wasn’t at work, I was with my personal trainer, trying to better my health. I wanted to be a better version of myself, the man you deserved.”
“I didn’t know that,” I say, feeling a little lost for words.
During those first two months after we broke up, it never once crossed my mind that he was seeking out help as well. I just thought he’d given up on me, but instead, he was doing exactly what he’d promised. I just didn’t know it.
I’m such a selfish bitch.
“Well, it’s been a tough year. We were hurting. We were angry. We were broken. We haven’t exactly been the best version of ourselves with each other.”
Talk about an understatement.
“I hate how we let this break us apart. I hate the time we’ve wasted.” I feel emotion beginning to clog up in my throat.
Everything could have been handled so much differently. We both could have supported each other better, been there for each other, instead of becoming closed off. I shouldn’t have walked away. He shouldn’t have let me. But, like my mom always says, things happen for a reason, and maybe we were supposed to end up exactly where we are—in the middle of a power outage, enveloped in one another’s arms, listening to the sounds of the rainstorm rattling against the windows as we finally open up to one another.
“We don’t have to continue letting it break us apart,” Tyler states.
He’s right. I’m just not sure how to go about that.
“But how do you fix something that’s already broken?”
He flinches at my chosen words, and I feel guilty, but he covers it well as his hand reaches under the blanket and slowly caresses my leg.
“There’s never an easy fix, never any guarantees, but to fix something valuable, you’ve got to do everything in your power to try to repair it. I asked you a question a few months ago—in the bathroom at Alex’s birthday—and you weren’t ready to hear it. I’m going to ask you again, but this time, it’s not rhetorical. This time, I’m asking it as a question, one I want an answer to.”
He pins me with his piercing green eyes, keeping my gaze in place. I remember his question word for word, as it’s been trapped in my mind ever since he spoke those words to me, determination set in his features.
“Are you going to fight with me or against me?”
I don’t even have to mull his words over, as there’s no choice to be made. I’ve spent months fighting against him when I’ve desperately wanted to fight with him. I just didn’t know it.
“I want to fight with you,” I declare.
He brings his lips to mine, kissing the living shit out of me.
After a few beats, he pulls back, a smile playing on his lips. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too. But—”
“No buts.”
He pouts, and I giggle, brushing my thumb over his plump lips.
“It’s not a bad but, I promise. I still have a lot of stuff to work through, so you need to be patient with me. We need to take things slow, and when I say slow, I mean, back to the basics.”
“What, like, first-base, second-base kind of basics?” he asks with an amused smile.
“No, not high school basics. I’m thirty, not thirteen.” I roll my eyes, laughing lightly. “I mean, we continue to live separately while we work on our marriage. We treat our relationship like we’re just dating and not like we’re married. Are you okay with that?”
“I’m happy to go at whatever pace you’re ready for. Can we still have sex though?”
His eyes hold so much hope that my next words feel like I’ve just told him Santa Claus isn’t real.
“We should probably treat sex as if we’re starting off in a new relationship.”
“So, we can have sex after the first date then because, if I remember correctly, that’s exactly what we did.”
I lightly smack him on the shoulder. “Sorry, no, jackass.”
“Well, I guess we already failed at the no-sex rule, as I’ve already fucked you up against the wall in a public restroom and feasted on your pussy not even fifteen minutes ago.”
“Tyler,” I chastise, feeling my cheeks burn with a mixture of lust and embarrassment.
He holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m kidding.” He raises his hand up to a lock of my hair that keeps falling in front of my eyes and tenderly slips it behind my ear before caressing his index finger along the softness of my cheek. “Just being with you is enough. Sex, I can wait for. I’ve survived four months without it. What I can’t survive is another four months without you.”
My heart falters at his words, and before I can utter a response, his lips are on mine, and I spend the rest of the night enveloped in his warm arms, which eases my jolts of terror as the storm continues to terrorize the night sky.