Page 34 of Broken Mercy
“Really? I mean, even if he did have some of his stinky stuff in here—“ She wrinkles her nose as if the thought of his moldering couches and beer-stained coffee tables insult her personally. “You’d likely toss it all and start over anyway.”
“I know, it’s just, I hoped I was going to learn something about him.” We stop in the master bedroom. The space is enormous, with a huge closet and a gorgeous en suite bath. The shower itself almost fixes my severe let-down.
“What’s there to learn?” Annie runs her fingers down the glass and sighs. “Look at this tile, my love. Who cares who you married when you have Bisazza mosaics in your floor?”
She’s got another good point there. “But what does he like? Does he want a big bed or a small one?”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You’re going to share a bed?”
“I don’t know! That’s my point!” I walk toward the front windows and peer out at a genuinely gorgeous view of the harbor. “Does he want curtains? Does he like sunlight in the morning? What about coffee?”
“Coffee? Sunlight? Tallie, you have wide-plank European oak flooring and actual hand-carved millwork.”
“What about the closet? How much space does he need?”
“Wolf appliances in the kitchen! And I’m pretty sure that soaking tub is carved from a single block of onyx. You’re going to feel like a princess in that thing.”
“What’s the point of a princess without a prince?”
Annie groans and throws up her hands. “You’re impossible. Honestly, I keep telling you,he doesn’t matter. He’s unimportant! This is your life now, my love, and you have to get used to it. And isn’t it much easier in a place with hospital-grade air filtration in the basement and heated floors throughout? You have to get over it. You just have to.”
There’s no use arguing with her, because she’s not totally wrong. That’s the worst part.
Itiseasier to accept my place in the world when that place is surrounded by luxuries most people never dream about.
When I was younger and coming up in the world, this is the sort of home I lusted after. I scrolled past images of places like this one on Instagram a dozen times a day and prayed that I’d marry a man in the life who could provide me with this heaven. Now I have it, and all I can think about is the man himself?
His hands on my chest, his mouth on my mouth, his heat surrounding me? His body half-submerged on a piano, working on a hidden safe, trying to steal something from the fucking Sarkissian family themselves…
“Can I have a few minutes to myself?” I say it as calmly as I can. If I show any more weakness, Annie’s going to scream. She’s already impatient as it is.
“Fine, take some time. I’ll help Sam carry the last of your stuff before he freaks out and starts ripping the copper wires from the walls. I swear that boy’s more trouble than he’s worth.”
Annie departs and I’m left alone in my beautiful, empty bedroom.
What do I want from this place? Honestly, if I’m really looking deeply at myself, what do I need? How am I going to survive here, knowing I’m barely more than a token wife?
I can fill my days. It’s not that hard. I’ll get a degree, find a job, or volunteer at a soup kitchen. I doubt Brenden will care. But is that enough? Can I come home to this beautiful house in a wonderful neighborhood and know it’s completely empty?
Even when I fill it with furniture, it’ll never feel done.
Because a home’s not a home without the people in it.
And where’s my damn husband?
I lose track of time standing at the window until there’s a creak behind me. Davit slinks into the room, wringing his hands together. “Hey, Tallie, you good?”
“I’m fine.” I try to smile for him, I really do, but it must look like I’m literally ripping out my own hairs. He grimaces.
“Annie says you’re having a hard time.”
“Did she say that?”
“Her exact words were,Tallie’s being an overly emotional diva and I seriously cannot. Sam, you’re with me, let’s inventory this place. I thought I’d come, you know, check in.”
Warmth floods me. Real, genuine warmth, which is shockingly hard to come by in my family. I have eight siblings but none of them make me feel like I’m seen, heard, or loved all that often, even though I know most of them would die for me. Especially Annie: she’d rip the fucking heart out of anyone who hurt me, and I’d do the same for her.
But that’s not how we are. We’re not huggers. We’re not emotionally available. I learned young and fast that I have to bury it all or else I’ll get the crap kicked out of me, not even by my parents, but from my ice-cold siblings.
