Tyler
God, I love my wife.
Since she arrived tonight, she might have kept purposely avoiding me and giving me the stink eye whenever I said something she didn’t like—which was consequently every time I opened my mouth—but she looked fucking beautiful while doing it.
We’ve just finished our dinner, and even though she relaxed a little while eating, she’s now sitting ramrod straight in her seat, throwing back her wine, as if the world were seconds away from running out of chardonnay. The anxiety is coming out of her in waves, and I hate that she feels like that, especially when it comes to me. I used to be the only person she would run to, the one she’d clutch for safety, the man she’d whisper all her deepest and darkest secrets to. Now, it’s like she can’t wait to get away from me. Her trust in me has vanished, and I would do anything to regain it. I just need to prove to her that I’m the man she married and not that shell of a guy I turned into when our world collided with the loss of our baby.
Even though I’ve given her two months’ worth of space, I decide to give her a few extra minutes. “Why don’t you relax in the living room while I clean up?”
Wordlessly, she nods while I stand from my seat and pick our plates up from the table.
When I return minutes later, she’s sitting in her spot—in the corner of the sofa—with Harley taking up the majority of the sofa, his furry head buried in her lap while she tenderly strokes his head. And, like the pussy he is, he’s lapping it right up, moaning the way he does when he’s getting comfortable.
I smile as I take a seat on the other side of her. The sight of her with him does crazy things to me. She’s smiling her first peaceful smile all night, and it’s one I fall in love with all over again.
“After two months apart, he’s still a mama’s boy,” she speaks almost in a whisper, but I hear every word.
“He sure is,” I respond, leaning back against the sofa.
She glances up from looking down at Harley, and for a few long seconds, her eyes stay locked on mine with so many unspoken questions, unspoken emotions.
“I guess we should talk then,” she says with a reluctant tone.
“Yes, we should.”
However, a minute passes, and neither of us utters a word.
After a second minute of more silence, she huffs with annoyance. “God, it shouldn’t be this hard.”
I don’t know if she means the lack of speech or being here with me, but I decide to take the reins on this.
“I’ll start then.” She doesn’t argue with me, and after several deep breaths, I speak, “When we lost Erika, I wasn’t a very good husband. Instead of being the husband I should have been, I checked out. I couldn’t deal.
“Our life had seemed so planned out. I could almost see it like a movie playing in my head. It involved Erika. Then, a couple of years later, we’d have another kid and then another, and our house would be a hectic bomb site with little people running riot, but they would be our little people. Our weekends would be spent between soccer practices and dance lessons. Our vacations would be spent at Disneyland. Our Thanksgiving and Christmases would be filled with gifts, food, and laughter. We’d be that kind of family—the ones our neighbors were jealous of, the all-American, white-picket-fence family. We’d constantly be tired, but we would still make time for each other, especially on the nights when the kids were staying at their grandparents’ so that I’d be able to make love to you without a single interruption.
“Then, one day, I came home, and the life that was almost in touching distance suddenly disappeared right in front of my eyes. That day, I tried to be strong; I really did. Although what I assumed was strength was in fact weakness. I should have held your hand, spoken encouraging words in your ear, wiped away your exhausted tears, the same way I would have if you had gone into natural labor months later. Instead, I stood back and let you go through it alone. I might have physically been in that room with you, but mentally, I checked out. Once I finally pulled my head out of my ass, it was too late, and I will never forget the distraught look on your face for as long as I shall live.”
At this point, tears are streaming down her face, and I think, if it wasn’t for Harley keeping her down on the sofa, she would have bolted.
I decide to take advantage of that and keep talking, “That night, you screamed at me to leave, but I didn’t. Instead, I sat in the corridor. I couldn’t bear leaving you. All night, I stared at your door, trying to come to terms with what had happened. I couldn’t come to terms with it. Even though I’d witnessed what happened and seen you with her, it still didn’t seem real.
“Then, when you were released from the hospital, you came home, and within a matter of days, we’d changed into these people I no longer recognized. The light inside you disappeared. It was like a switch had gone off, and I didn’t know how to pull you back from the brink. I was so out of my element.
“It’s my job to protect you, and I failed. Hell, I would take a bullet for you without a second thought, but this was one thing I couldn’t protect you from. No matter how much gear we used to protect ourselves with, not enough bulletproof vests in the world could have protected our baby, and I hated having that control taken away from me. It went against every natural instinct I had when it came to protecting you, and I struggle every day to deal with it.
“Plus, as you know, I’m not the most forthcoming person when it comes to my emotions. When life gets too tough, I like to bail and bury the emotions so far in the depths of me that I never want them to resurface again, and that’s what I did. That’s why, after only a couple of days, I focused on the only thing I did have control over, and that was my work. Not only that, but every time I looked at you, it would be yet another emotion I had to bury because seeing you so depressed, so despondent, killed me, and I couldn’t deal with it. I’m so sorry I took the coward’s way out and let you deal with it alone.”
A lump forms at the back of my throat, and I feel myself choking up as I watch the tears continue to fall rapidly down her face. I reach for her hand, needing the warmth of her comfort as I purge myself of every dark emotion I’ve ever felt. The minute her hand willingly connects with mine, I don’t waste a single second, and I squeeze her fingers between mine. Her touch is almost like an anchor, and I hold on for dear life.
“But you have to know that my lack of emotion wasn’t because I didn’t care; it was because I did. I might have been trying to force the agony away, but it managed to latch on to my heart anyway. Every breath I took, all I could feel was the pain of our loss.”
I feel it now—the unbearable pain that not only wants to pull me under, but also cuts me like a knife. Add that to my wife’s falling tears and sobs that now rack her, and my heart cracks into pieces. Emotions continue to clog up in my throat, and for probably the second time in our married life, I cry in front of her.
“Tyler,” she whimpers through her hysteric sobs.
The instant I hear my name being spoken from her lips, almost like a plea, I pull her onto my lap, causing Harley to whine in protest at the sudden movement. Mia doesn’t put up a fight and readily straddles me, her knees resting beside my thighs. I cover my face in the crook of her neck while her gentle hands caress through my hair. We rock together through our falling tears.
“I had no idea you felt like that. I wish you had told me,” she stammers through her pain-stricken cries.
I nod my head on a hiccup as we continue to rock back and forth.
“I know…but it hurt so much. It still hurts.” And it does; it’s excruciating. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please forgive me.” My voice cracks with the impact of the emotion, my breaths unsteady.
Mia slightly pulls away, grasping hold of each side of my face with her soft fingers, leveling her gaze on me, her eyes swimming with the dark depths of heartbreak, teardrops fluttering from the edge of her lashes before falling to her face.
“I forgive you,” she whispers, her voice husky from her sobs.
I see in her serious expression that she’s telling the truth.
God, I love her.
“But it doesn’t change the last two months. It doesn’t change the endless nights filled with tears, the endless nights when the only solace I found was finally falling into a tear-induced coma while my mom held me in her arms.”
I furiously blink the tears away. Every few seconds, her pretty features blur into one. My heart agonizingly thumps in my chest as I hear the pain in her voice, and I hate myself for not being there for her.
I try to speak, but her strained words cut me off, “Those were some of the worst months of my life because you weren’t there, and I needed you, more than anything. I needed you!” she screams.
In turn, my tears fall faster.
I reach for her face, caressing her tears away. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. I’d do anything to rewind time, so I could make better choices, but all I can do is try to make it up to you. I swear to you, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Starting now.”
I do the one thing I’ve been dying to do since I locked eyes on her tonight, and I press my lips against hers, tasting her sweet and salty tears. I capture them and swallow them, as if they were my own.
“Tyler…” she painfully cries out against me, her lips trembling against mine.
The very sound is like a fist around my heart, squeezing until the blood seeps through the ruptured tissue.
“Mia,” I respond, my voice matching her pain.
She clutches me to her, innocently rocking her hips against mine, which results in our lips pressing together, and I can’t keep the groan coming from the back of my throat.
“Mia,” I repeat against her mouth. This time, the pain is infused with pleasure.
Then, with a simple brush of her tongue against mine, the tender moment quickly turns into a heated frenzy. Within the blink of an eye, everything speeds up, and the temperature skyrockets by at least another twenty degrees. Almost on instinct, we pull each other closer, hands fisting forcefully—mine in her hair, hers against the front of my shirt—and we moan into each other’s mouths. She grinds on my cock, and it stands to immediate attention, earning another deep groan from me. My hands hurriedly drift down her back until they reach the curve of her ass, and I squeeze, kneading the ample flesh. Her hips jerk at the impact, and she bears down on me. I swallow her breathy little moans with my own, our tongues dancing furiously together.
I briefly pull away for a second to groan out Mia’s name, and at the same time, she huskily whispers my name, “Tyler.”
Jesus, my name has never sounded so good, coming from her pretty little mouth. It only fuels me further, and after slamming my mouth back onto hers, claiming her, I pull away to whip her Daddy’s Lil Monster T-shirt over her head. I’m met with a sexy-as-sin red lace bra with her perky little nips on show through the transparent material.
“Always in red,” I husk out.
She gasps when the bra springs free with my masterful hands, but her surprise is quickly replaced with an erotic pant when I lock lips on her nipple. I softly graze it with my tongue, lap against it in a circular motion before sucking it hard. Mia lets out a lungful of air, a moan slipping free. Her hands automatically rise to my hair, clutching at the strands, as I lap at her puckered nipple. I glance up to her face, and the single glimpse of her head thrown back—eyes closed shut, face flushed, lips parted—is almost my undoing. I bite down on her nipple. She moans out loud, and in turn, she rewards me with a tilt of her hips against mine. The friction of her jeans-covered pussy against my cock is mind-blowing.
My tongue travels up along her chest and against the dip of her collarbone before zoning in on the spot on her neck just below her ear where I know she’s the most sensitive. I devour the skin there while my fingers trail up and down her bare back, enjoying the way her flesh pebbles in delicious goose bumps.
A few seconds later, I make my way back to her lips, capturing them with mine, before I lift her in my arms and stand, needing to take her to our bedroom so that I can fuck her into next week.
I need her more than the air that I breathe.
Fuck, I need her more than life itself.
We break apart while I make the quick trip upstairs, but my patience of needing to be inside her increases, especially when her hands roam over my chest and she kisses tiny kisses just below my earlobe. It’s driving me crazy. I can feel Harley at my feet, following us, but once I step over the threshold of our bedroom, I shut the door behind me, closing him out. I vaguely hear his whines on the other side of the door as I carry Mia through the darkened room, toward the bed, but it’s easy to block him as I lay her down and get lost in the wonder of her lips.
We start off slow—a few nips here, a few licks there—but as the heat rises, we become frantic with our sexual need. We practically begin to claw at each other as we remove our clothes.
“Tyler, God, I need you,” Mia pants in between kisses as she removes my boxer shorts.
The only response I have is removing her panties.
Once she’s completely bare, I lean over her, resting both arms beside her head, and position myself between her legs. I hiss out as my hard cock slides against her already soaking pussy, and it takes everything within me not to slam inside her. I barely hold on to my restraint, but I do because I want to cherish this for as long as possible.
I want tonight to be the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning.
I want this moment to be everything.
I want this to be the beginning.
A fresh start.
I bring my lips down to hers, and her legs widen and wrap around my waist, pushing her pussy against my cock. I throb at the feel of her wet folds molding around my dick. I pull away and look intently into her eyes that shine beautifully in the moonlit darkness.
“I’ve missed this so much,” I begin, unable to hold back my emotion. “I love you so much. We’ve wasted two months of our lives without each other, and it’s been the worst two months of my life. But I’m so glad you’re here, in my arms. We can resume where we left off. We can try for another baby. Anything you want, and it’s yours.”
My next intention is to kiss her, but when I feel her stiffen below me, I know I’ve said the wrong thing.
A stupid thing.
Almost like a cold bucket of ice has been poured over Mia, she asks in a detached voice, “Try for another baby?” A second later, she repeats the question but this time with more anguish, “Try for another fucking baby?”
“Mia…” I whisper, regretfully closing my eyes.
Why the fuck did I have to say that to her? Jesus, Tyler!
Her hands forcefully push against my chest. “Get off me,” she demands.
I reluctantly climb off her, shifting on my ass with my head hanging low. In seconds, she’s off the bed, and she frantically goes in search of her clothes—or part of them since her T-shirt and bra are downstairs.
“I can’t fucking believe you.” Every single syllable is filled with venom that feels like it has a direct line to my heart.
“Mia, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking…”
My words fall on deaf ears as she impatiently mutters, “Where the hell are my jeans?”
I shift to the head of the bed and switch the nightstand lamp on. The sudden brightness seems harsh against my eyes, a dramatic contrast to the moonlit darkness, and it takes me a second to adjust. I shift to see that Mia has found her jeans and is frantically pulling them up her legs. I stand and round the bed until I’m standing in front of her, but before I can speak, her hard gaze lands on mine. She shakes her head with disbelief as she pulls the zipper up on her jeans.
“You almost had me. You almost fucking had me, but then you said that, and I know there is no way in hell you felt the same kind of pain I did. If you had, you wouldn’t have just said what you did. Try for another baby? How can you ask me that after only a few months of losing Erika? Do you honestly think another baby would replace all the hurt and pain I’ve endured, that another baby would simply erase our firstborn? Oh, it doesn’t matter that we’ve lost a baby. Let’s just make a replacement baby. Then, if that one dies, we’ll just try again. It’s just that easy,” she mocks spitefully.
The words don’t just hurt me; they cripple me.
“Our baby is irreplaceable, Tyler!”
Tears are now falling from her eyes, and I instinctively step closer until we’re toe-to-toe, my eyes boring into hers. I itch to touch her, but I know it won’t be tolerated, so I keep my hands to myself.
“I know she’s irreplaceable. I know that. I was stupid to suggest having another child, especially when the pain is so fresh. I don’t know why I said it. My emotions were heightened. I was just so happy to have you in my arms again. I wasn’t thinking. One day, we can try again, but for now, I want to fix our marriage. I want to be us again. I want to be with the woman I’m destined to grow old with.”
I glance down at her naked chest, watching how it quickly rises and falls with her panting breaths. I return my gaze to her face and see the tears rapidly falling. I raise my hand to wipe her runaway tears, but she steps out of my grasp, shaking her head with a shuddering breath.
“You don’t get it, do you?” she snaps. “I don’t want any more children. Losing Erika was the worst thing I’ve ever had to deal with. I barely survived. And there is no way I can go through that trauma again. I won’t put myself through that.”
My heart comes to a halt, and the air in the room suddenly becomes so thick that I struggle to catch my breath.
Ever since Mia came into my life, my future has always consisted of having children. Not having children is a hard concept to wrap my head around. But I still can’t wrap my head around the loss of our child, so if Mia says she doesn’t want any more kids, then I will back her one hundred percent. She’s my wife. I will do whatever it takes to make her happy, and if it means we don’t have a life filled with children, then we will plan a new life together.
I’m not letting this tear us apart.
I won’t.
I inch a step closer and capture her hand in mine, gently grazing her knuckles with my thumb. She doesn’t pull away.
Good sign.
“Baby, I do get it. No woman should have to go through what you’ve been through. I understand how that could scar you for life. So, if you don’t want children because of the trauma you went through, then I’m going to support that decision. We don’t need children to make us happy. You’re enough to make me happy. We’re enough,” I grit out.
She shakes her head and snatches her hand from mine, tears blurring her vision. “That’s not true though. I’m not enough!” she screams before taking a calming breath. The next time she speaks, she’s a little more collected, but each word packs a punch that has my blood boiling. “You want children. You made it obvious earlier when you were describing the life you’d imagined, the house filled with children. You had our lives all mapped out. You don’t map lives out unless you’re committed to following them, and the way you described it, there’s nothing you want more. And I saw the reaction on your face just then—when I said I didn’t want more children. That one look of shock said it all. Just because I don’t want children doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”
“Not at the expense of losing you!” I yell vehemently, unable to control the panic and anger in my voice. This here is the fighter coming out in me, and unfortunately, it isn’t pretty.
I feel like I’m holding on for dear life, and she keeps loosening her hold.
The tears that seem like an endless stream continue down her face.
“You’re forgetting one thing, Mia. In those plans I made, you were in every single one of them. Every. Single. One. But plans can change, and plans do change. That’s why contingency plans exist—for when the original plan doesn’t pan out. The contingency plan? We travel the world together. Experience new life-altering things together. Grow old and gray together. Die together. Then, we spend an eternity in a spirit world together. Because you and me, baby, we’re in this thing to the very fucking end. Till forever do us part,” I say, repeating the words I used in our wedding vows on a rough growl, the vows I meant every single word of.
The silence that follows is deafening. The only sound I can hear is the thrashing of my heart against my chest as I stare her down, my breathing erratic.
Her gaze averts from the intensity of mine. She sucks in her bottom lip, her chin trembling, and she wipes at the wet cheeks with the pad of her fingers. I notice she’s shaking, and my eyes follow the way goose bumps rise along her naked skin with a sudden chill. As if she remembers she’s still naked from the waist above, her arms instinctively begin to cover herself, vulnerability evident in her body language. She’s closing up on herself, and I’m the only one to blame.
I know she has every right to push me away, but I feel like she’s pushing me away for all the wrong reasons. Pushing me away because she’s stubborn. Pushing me away because I hurt her, and this is her retaliation, her way of hurting me back. I know she still loves me, but I’m determined to push through the resistance to get to the other side.
My breathing slows down, the silence calming me.
I open my mouth to speak, but Mia beats me to it by clearing her throat.
“Um, I…should, um…go,” she says in a timid voice, a little unsure. She nods, almost to herself, before clarifying, “Yeah, I need to leave.”
She turns and hurriedly makes her way to the door, but I’m quick on my feet to stop her as I block her path, still naked as the day I was born.
“Mia, there’s no way I’m letting you drive with the amount of wine you had to drink tonight.”
She defiantly rolls her eyes, pursing her lips. “Fine, I’ll grab a cab. Now, get out of my way.” She tries to forcefully push me away with her shoulder since her arms are still crossed over her chest, but her small frame has no impact whatsoever.
“What? So some dirty cab driver can take advantage of you? No way.”
She gives out a humorless laugh. “How do you suggest I get home then since you’ve also been drinking?” she points out, as if I were insane.
Hell, maybe I am.
“You drive. In the morning.”
Her eyes widen with realization, and she grows even more furious.
“Tyler, the last thing I want to do is have a sleepover,” she mockingly spits out, “especially when the one person I need space from is you!”
My pride takes a little bit of a blow at hearing her say she needs space from me, but I’ve got an excellent poker face, and I pretend her words don’t affect me.
“I don’t expect you to sleep with me. You can stay in here, and I’ll take the guest room.”
Her eyes drift shut, and I witness the lonely tear escaping from the corner of her eye.
“Tyler,” she sighs, reopening her eyes, “I really can’t be around you right now. I’m just…I’m feeling so overwhelmed. I need to be alone.” Her words are calmer, but they’re also etched with a soul-crushing pain that seems frighteningly haunting, and it’s enough for me to take a step back. Enough to give her the space she obviously needs.
“Okay,” I say with an accepting nod. “I’m still not letting you drive or get a cab, so I’ll call your dad or brother to come pick you up.”
I turn, heading toward my dresser to change into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. As I cover my junk with my shorts, I feel Mia’s presence beside me. I stay silent as she reaches into the drawer and takes out a Star Trek T-shirt that has a Spock hand graphic with the words, Live Long and Prosper. She proceeds to pull it over her head, and I stare, mystified at seeing the T-shirt fall effortlessly over her naked skin and jean-clad thighs.
She glances at me with an emotionless expression on her face. “I’ll stay, but I’m sleeping in the guest room.” She swings her eyes over to the bed and then back to me. “Everything in here…is too overwhelming.”
And, with that, she makes her way toward the door, and my eyes never once stray from her as I watch her pad out of the bedroom and slip into the hall.
Even though we were at each other’s throats not even five minutes ago, I smile.
Not because she agreed to stay, but because she’s wearing my T-shirt.
But not any T-shirt.
The T-shirt.