Page 41 of The Write Choice

“Of course it does. But it was a blip on your radar in the grand scheme of things.”

“Did it factor into your decision to move us out here?”

She’s not accusing. She’s simply asking a question, and I want to answer honestly, so I nod.

Her face falls, and her eyes dip down, falling unfocused on my chest. “So, it is my fault, then. Our whole life changed because I made a bad choice.”

I sit up, pulling her with me. She crosses her legs underneath herself and clasps her hands in her lap, looking down at them. I place my palms on either side of her face and tilt her head up until she’s focused on me.

“It wasn’t one night of drinking, Katie. It was everything that led up to it. I left you alone in a city full of people you didn’t feel connected to. I convinced you to join that fundraising committee, knowing full well those people weren’t your type. But I did it so I wouldn’t feel bad about hustling even more at work. And, all the while, I was missing our kids growing up. I didn’t want that life anymore, and I know you didn’t either, because if you had been happy…” I trail off. I don’t need to keep rehashing her drinking. I’m sure she’s done it enough herself. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault, Cat. I was watching our life get away from us. I wanted to do something about it.” When she doesn’t immediately respond, I continue. “I’m not asking you to be glad about leaving New York. I’m asking that you give us a chance to be happy.”

A tear snakes its way down her cheek, then another and another. They fall over my hands, and I kiss them, one by one, until she laughs darkly. “Okay, stop.” She pulls away from me, chuckling. I drop my hands to her legs, running my hands up and down her gorgeous thighs.

“I don’t think sex is on the table yet,” she looks pointedly at my roaming hands. “I have too much to figure out, and I don’t want it to be all muddled with that. But…” she trails off, then her eyes meet mine. “Truce? Maybe I can… I don’t know… stop being so angry at you, and we can stop being so angry at ourselves?”

A wide grin stretches across my face. “That sounds excellent.”

“And, maybe tomorrow, you can come back to our bed?” She raises her eyebrows hopefully.

“Why not tonight?” I don’t care anymore if I sound over-eager. Now we’re getting somewhere.

She, however, slides back down between the covers and tugs my arm until I’m lying next to her again. “Because I’m tired and lazy.” She drapes an arm around my torso and rests her head in the crook where my arm meets my shoulder. “And I’m finally warm, so I don’t want to leave.”

I slide my arm under her neck and around her shoulders, squeezing tight. “I’m here for whatever you want, Cat.”

Chapter 12

Katie

The next night, Brandon moves back into our room. He’s a perfect gentleman, like he always is, but I can see the unbridled desire in his eyes. I know it’s only a matter of time before we go back to the way things were before. We were never that couple that had sex every day or anything, but I like to think our track record was higher than the average parents of small children. Especially after I got my IUD a few years ago. That thing is a godsend.

It’s not that I don’t like the sex we have. I do. I’m desperate for it, if I’m being honest with myself. But there’s something about sex with Brandon that scrambles my brain and leaves me buzzing in the most delicious way. Which sounds great on the surface, but it has always made me make dumb decisions without concern for the consequences. Like “forgetting” the condom somewhere in that first week he spent in my bed. That was pre-IUD, obviously.

I think it’s clear I need to figure some shit out right now, so I’m not taking any chances.

By the time Monday rolls around, Brandon has been in my bed—our bed, I suppose—for two nights, and I’m already sleeping better. I’m sleeping like a rock, actually, when his alarm goes off Monday morning.

“It was nice not having that to wake up to,” I mumble as he shuts it off.

I’m not facing him, and I’m trying to burrow into my pillow, but he pops up over my shoulder and presses a kiss to my cheek. His beard scrapes against my skin with a perfect coarseness that spreads warm tingles all over my body. I shift to my back so he’s hovering above me, and he doesn’t waste any time moving his lips to mine. I snake my hand up his chest and over his shoulder, settling it into his hair.

God, I love his hair. It was the first thing I noticed about him. I prayed that one of our kids would end up a redhead, but no such luck. But more than just being a beautiful terra-cotta color, it’s thick and soft and glides between my fingers.

His hand snakes up my thigh and under the threadbare tank top I wore to bed. It pauses on my hip, but I can’t help myself. I pull his head closer to mine, deepening the kiss. I press my chest up into his so my breasts graze him. He moans into my mouth, and I swallow it. Our tongues tease each other back and forth.

He pulls away, but not too far. Our noses touch briefly before he backs away so he can see my face.

“Katie,” he warns. “I’m trying here, but you’re making this very difficult.”

A corner of my mouth ticks up. “It’s not easy for me, either, you know. Especially with you… here.”

“You’re the one who made the rule.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know why you listen to me.” I angle my head so I can catch his bottom lip between my teeth. I gently tug.

“I listen to you,” he says between kisses, “because if I didn’t, you’d be mad at me. And yourself. Again.”

“You’re right,” I breathe into him, pressing kisses along his neck and shoulder. “But I’m having a very hard time giving a shit about that right now.”