I didn’t know Devin was home until I heard his voice.
“Harleigh?” His voice was low and quiet, but full of concern.
I looked up from my book and stopped myself from smiling. I didn’t want to be happy to see him, but I was. I was ridiculously happy. Everything in my body danced on edge. I resisted the urge to jump up and throw my arms around him, peppering his face with kisses. I wanted him to smile and laugh, and swing me around in his arms. Much like the couple in the book I read did when they reunited after a prolonged time away. But this was real life and not some chick-lit novel. Neither of us would get a happily ever after, neither of us would end up with the person we wanted. Too bad, I didn’t even get a happy-in-the-meantime.
The heroine of my book would walk away with personal growth. She might have a broken heart for a moment, but in the end, she would be a better, stronger person. I would be divorced, at the end of a failed marriage, pining away for the one person who should love me but never would, my husband.
“Devin, you came home.”
“I brought the Picasso back,” he said
“Oh, really? The investigators were able to recover it? That’s great. Can I see it?” I wrapped the blanket I was snuggled in tighter around me like some kind of giant protective shield.
“I left it with Jessie.” The rumble of his voice felt physical, like a touch I had been missing. “It has to be installed with a theft-resistant security hanger, along with a handful of other security precautions that the insurance company is requiring. I didn’t think you liked that painting.”
I gave him a little smile. He looked tired.
“I don’t not like it. It’s not my favorite, but it will be nice to look at it and not the empty space on the wall after all this time. It’s not like she walked off with the Dali. That one probably is my favorite from Daddy’s collection.”
“It’s your collection now,” he reminded me.
“It is, isn’t it? That means I can change it all around if I want to.” The prospect of curating my own collection hadn’t occurred to me previously. I distracted myself for a moment thinking about buying and selling art. I always wanted an original Frida Khalo. Could I afford a Banksy? How did I even start buying art?
I looked back up to Devin, his expression and the circles under his eyes brought me crashing back to our current circumstances. He looked bone-tired, and in no mood for my fantasy about buying infamous street art.
“You’ve been working too hard with your back-to-back travels. How long are you back for?”
“I’ll be back on the road soon enough,” he said as he took off his coat with a shrug, and loosened his tie. He ran his hand through his hair. It fell to the side, casting a shadow over his eyes. He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his shirt sleeves up.
Did he have any idea how incredibly sexy that was? I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched. I didn’t want those thoughts anymore. I wanted detachment from the emotions that surrounded Devin.
He was by my side, his hand caressing down my arm. “Harleigh? What’s the matter? Are you in pain? You aren’t getting sick are you?”
I didn’t want these feelings for him, and instead of bracing myself against him, I somehow triggered his protective instincts. I let him take the book from my hands. I closed my eyes and breathed through the surge of awkward feelings.
Was now a good time to tell him everything I needed to tell him? I wanted to save my big surprise for our first anniversary. I already made reservations and had an idea of what I would wear. I could picture us smiling and enjoying each other’s company, and then I would confess everything.
I just needed to wait until tomorrow.
“Did you see the flowers Mr. Sanderson sent? Aren’t they lovely?” I didn’t know what else to say.
I wanted to ask how long he had really been out of town for, how long had he been staying at his apartment? I wanted to not care. It was a struggle.
His gaze locked with mine. It felt like he was looking into my soul and he could see what he was doing to me. I wanted him to see that I was in love with him. That I wanted him here. I wanted him to see past this bad acting I was doing. I wasn’t indifferent.
He looked away first. From his expression, I don’t think he saw what I wanted him to see. He ran his hand over his face, and let out a heavy breath.
The knot inside of me that had been growing since he walked into the library tightened. It was a rock of pain that was knowing he didn’t care. I winced around the emotions that clashed inside of me.
“Harleigh? Does something hurt?”
His kindness and concern broke me. I couldn’t pretend anymore. Tears streamed from my eyes.
“I can’t do this anymore,” my voice quavered.
He knelt in front of me and pushed my hair out of my face. “We’ll get you taken care of, I promise.”
I grabbed his hand, stilling his motion. “I’m not sick, Devin. I can’t pretend that everything is okay. You go away for days at a time, not telling me where you are. And when you come back we act as if nothing has changed. You pretend you are concerned, and I pretend that I haven’t spent my days too depressed to function.”
“Harleigh.” He held my hands. The expression on his face had me closing my eyes. I couldn’t look at him when it appeared he actually cared for me. Me, not what I could do for him with my signature on a wedding certificate and staying married for two more days.
“I keep waiting for you to take care of me. Instead, you keep leaving when I need you the most.”
I opened my eyes and cupped his face. He was so handsome. He looked like my words hurt. I was prepared for him to throw his walls back up, cutting me off from the real him.
“Thank you for dealing with the insurance company over the painting. I’m afraid that was just one thing out of too many for me to deal with this past year.”
He lowered his gaze and shook his head. “It was nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing. It was so much more than that. It reminded me of who we were a long time ago. You used to be so nice to me.”
“You were a kid.”
“I get that. But why did you have to become so much like my father? It’s like you forgot about people, only concerned with the bottom line, money management, telling people what to do. What happened to being my friend? What happened, why did you all of a sudden treat me like a commodity, always telling me what to do?”
I couldn’t look at him anymore. I closed my eyes and turned my head. His thumb traced gently over my cheeks, wiping away tears. I wrapped my hand around his wrist and looked into his eyes.
“I thought the old Devin was there when you said you would take care of me. I thought I had you back when we got married in Las Vegas. For a minute I thought there might be something between us.”
He pulled my hand to his chest. His heartbeat was strong under my palm. He didn’t say anything for so long.
“I don’t know if I can be that man again, Harleigh. That was a long time ago. When I was younger I hadn’t seen the ways of the world.”
“I don’t believe you. I’ve seen you be incredibly kind and bitter all in the span of the past year.”
He leaned back on his heel and chuckled.
“The world spins faster when I’m with you.” His voice was balm to my nerves. His words made my pulse speed up. “You are distracting, and I find myself unable to articulate thoughts and emotions around you properly.”
His eyes closed and his head dipped, I tilted my face up to his in expectation of his kiss. His lips were warm and soft. It was a gentle kiss, a testing kiss. It asked if we could be together without hurting one another. Or so I thought.
I answered him by pressing firmly against his mouth. I let my lips open in invitation. His tongue slid into my mouth, seeking, tasting. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held him. This was what I wanted from him. I wanted his kisses, his emotions, his love.
Something in his kiss changed. He stopped being gentle. With a growl in his throat, he held me tighter, and kissed me harder.
Just as quickly, he broke the kiss and pushed me away. I staggered to my feet.
“What’s wrong? Why can’t you just keep kissing me?”
He ran his hand through his hair and didn’t look at me. “I shouldn’t.”
“You shouldn’t what? Devin, why do you keep, literally, pushing me away?”
“You didn’t ask for any of this, Harleigh. It’s not fair to you.” He stood and crossed the room.
“You didn’t ask for it either. Why can’t we now choose? What if I want to be here Devin? What if I’m not upset that I was forced to marry you?”
He turned and looked at me. He was angry. I was lost again. One second he acted like he wanted me, the next I was tossed to the ground like a piece of chewed gum.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he grumbled.
“Devin.” My heart was breaking and I didn’t know what to say. I understood what he meant when he said the emotions got in the way of the words.
“My intentions are not as honorable as you seem to think they are.”
He turned and stormed out of the room.
I stared after him, numb, stuck in place. He left me again. When was I going to learn?
