My mind keeps replaying the way I clung to Zane last night, the way he consoled me. He hasn’t breathed a word about it all day, acting completely professional at work. But a few times, I saw him look at me with a soft gaze that made my heart wrench.
I keep going over his words in my mind, unsure of what to believe. Lily once told me there’s nothing I wouldn’t forgive him for, and I’m scared she was right. Do I want to believe him because it’d make it easier for me to put the past behind us that way? From each seed of doubt he plants in me, another thousand questions sprout, leaving me feeling torn and unsettled.
I sigh and grab the book I was reading, holding it open in front of me as I walk to the living room, desperate to escape into a different world, one where I don’t have to face the thoughts I can’t make sense of. Sometimes, when my days feel rough, this is the only thing that can make me feel better. Nothing else can make me truly feel alive when my own emotions get too heavy.
I sigh happily when I feel the soft carpets in the living room under my feet, glad I made it to my destination without having to take my eyes off the pages. It took months for me to become familiar with Zane’s house, but I finally feel at home here, most of the time. I sink onto the sofa, only to gasp at the sound of soft laughter.
“You still do that, huh?” Zane says, startling me so much that I let my book slip through my fingers. It falls closed, and I stare at it in dismay, knowing it’ll now take me a few seconds to find the page I was on. “You really should watch where you’re going, Celeste. Remember that time you stubbed your toe and burst into tears? You made me kiss your toe until the pain was gone.”
I look up at him and freeze, doing a double take. He’s leaning back on the sofa in nothing but a pair of black boxers, his laptop balancing on his knee. His hair is still wet, and the way he’s spread out puts his entire body on display. My eyes zero in on his tattoo, only to drop to his abs when he lifts his hand and runs it through his hair, making his muscles ripple. “I don’t think it was the way you kissed my toe that took away the pain,” I murmur, my cheeks heating as I remember how he’d kissed my foot, and then made his way up my leg until he had his face buried between my legs, his tongue lapping at me and the mint in his mouth making me tingle in the best way. I don’t think I’ve ever come harder than I did that night.
I try my best to look at his face, only for my gaze to drop back to his body a split second later. “I, um,” I stammer, taking in the V below his abs, “I’ll go read in the bedroom. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
I look away and brush my hair behind my ear, unsure how to face him. He’s treated me differently lately, a little more caring, a little more understanding, and I don’t know what to make of it. Without the blatant hatred between us to hide behind, I’m forced to face everything else that still exists between us, everything that shouldn’t be there anymore.
Zane shakes his head and beckons me closer. “Don’t go. I wanted your input on my presentation for the conference we have to attend next month. Could you take a look at this?”
I reluctantly put my book aside and scoot over. “Of course.”
He wraps his arm around the back of the sofa, not quite touching me, but enveloping me all the same as he turns his laptop toward me. It just reminds me of the way he pulled me close last night, and all of a sudden, I’m hit with intense longing.
I lean in and scroll through the slides, reading each of them carefully. “I like this particular slide a lot, but I don’t think the data is presented in a clear enough manner,” I murmur, moving closer to him to edit it. “What was the source? It’s not listed.”
I turn to him when he doesn’t answer, only to find him looking at me with an expression that steals my breath. “Sometimes I forget how perfect we were together,” he murmurs, his gaze bittersweet. “You always made everything you touched better, and I let myself forget it. It was easier to hold on to the hate, but I’m not sure I want to anymore. Do you?”
I meet his eyes, disarmed by his quiet confession. I hadn’t expected that, but perhaps I should have, after last night. “I don’t know how to feel anything else anymore,” I admit. “Not without feeling guilty.”
Zane turns toward me and captures my face, cupping it gently. “Is that so?” He leans in, his gaze dropping to my lips. I inhale sharply when his hand slides down my cheek to my neck. He wraps his hand around it, his thumb resting against my throat as he pulls me closer, until his lips are brushing against mine. “What do you feel when I do this?” My breathing becomes ragged as anticipation builds. Zane softly kisses the edge of my mouth, and I whimper. “Tell me, Celeste.”
“Things that I shouldn’t,” I whisper, my eyes falling closed. That same guilt I’ve been drowning in tugs at me, reminding me of why I can’t have him the way I want him. I’ve never felt more conflicted. I’ve never hated myself more for the way I can’t seem to get over him.
“What if we just stop fighting?” he asks, his tone a pleading lilt. “What if we just let ourselves feel everything we claim not to?”
He pushes his laptop aside, and I tense when he makes me face him, his grip around my neck tightening. It just reminds me of the way he took me in our dressing room, his gaze heated. The way he makes me the center of his universe when he’s buried inside me is addicting, and more and more, I want him to look at me that way, like I’m all he can see.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what you said last night, Celeste. You said you’re tired of being unhappy, and so am I.” My heart skips a beat, and he leans in, his lips brushing over mine. He takes my bottom lip between his teeth and nips at it, his touch filled with frustration. Does he know it makes me weak when he does that?
“I know you, Celestial. If you’re reading like that, you’re trying to escape. Why not let me be your escape? Why don’t we stop hiding behind the hate neither of us truly feels? Give in.”
My resolve snaps, and I tilt my head to kiss him. He moans and pulls me onto his lap, making me feel how hard he is for me. “I don’t know how to be with you without fighting it,” I murmur against his mouth. The only times I let myself feel everything he elicits in me is when I can hide behind hatred that I don’t truly feel, not anymore.
“Me neither,” he admits, pulling away a little, his touch rough as his hands roam over my body. “Sometimes I look at you, and my heart just fucking breaks, Celeste. I think of everything you did to me, the way you destroyed us, and the hate feels so fucking real. But then you smile at me, and it all disappears. I don’t know how to navigate this thing between us, but I know I want to stop arguing. Can we do that? Even if it’s only until we divorce?”
I wrap my arms around him and rest my head against his shoulder. “I don’t know,” I whisper. “But despite everything, I want to try.”
He hugs me tightly, and I find myself wishing he’d never let go. Not now, and not in three years. Guilt immediately follows that thought, and I bury my face against his neck, breathing him in. Would it be okay for me to have this for just a little while?
