That one, small gesture of someone actually giving a crap turned my quiet crying into full-on belly sobs.
Rob made a startled noise at the back of his throat, clearly not having expected the Niagara Falls of snot and tears erupting in front of him.
"I-I'm so-sorry," I hiccuped, doing my best to rein in the torrent of volatile emotions that ripped through my chest. "I'm j-just s-so alone. A-all the time."
"Mmmh," Rob hummed, as if that made all the sense in the world. It instantly made me feel a bit better, as if maybe I wasn't completely crazy.
"Tell you what, why don't you eat some of them crackers, love, and have a glass of ginger ale? I'll just give Blaine a call, have him come home to look after you."
My moment's relief vanished immediately at the sound of my husband's name. "No. Not Blaine. He h-hates me." For some unknown reason, saying it out loud made a fresh bout of tears burst out of my eyes and stain my already salt-speckled glasses.
"Nah, he's just a bit rough ‘round the edges. You gotta learn to handle him. He's a Steel alright, but he's a good kid when it comes down to it." Rob gave my shoulder a light pat and fished his phone out of his pants. "You just settle down now, yeah? He'll come runnin' the second he hears you're upset."
"Don't tell him that," I sniffled pathetically. The last thing I wanted was for Blaine to know he'd beaten me with his silent treatment-especially when I felt so inexplicably weak. He didn't need to see me when I was down.
"Don't be daft," Rob said as he left the kitchen with a backwards glance over his shoulder, phone already lifted halfway to his ear. "He's a bloke-he'll crack at the sight of his wife's tears. You gotta learn to play the game, love."
I stared after the big, burly man as he disappeared out of the kitchen and out the front door. Even with my best efforts I couldn't imagine Blaine being anything remotely close to "a good kid," but perhaps Rob did have a point. Perhaps a softer touch was what was needed when it came to Blaine. I'd spent all my time trying to be strong and together-and even when I'd failed miserably, I had reacted with anger rather than tears.
Maybe he would indeed react better if he saw vulnerability in me instead.
I grabbed a piece of paper towel off the counter and wiped my eyes before blowing my nose. At least it would be pretty easy to show him vulnerability today.
When Blaine walked in about three quarters of an hour later, my tears had finally stopped, even if my face was still salt-streaked and my eyes red-rimmed. I hadn't been able to find the energy to go wash my face or even change into regular clothes, so when he rounded the double doors into the kitchen, he found me sitting on a bar stool still in my pajamas and snacking on a gherkin straight out of the jar.
I turned to face him when he paused in the doorway, half a pickle still in my hand. "Hey."
He frowned, his light gray eyes taking in everything from the half-empty pickle jar and used tissue on the counter to my tear-stricken face and ruffled appearance.
"What's going on? Rob said you weren't feeling well?"
From the gruffness in his voice it was hard to imagine he actually cared about my state of mind, but then again-he had come home early to check in on me, which was more than I'd expected. I bit my lip and looked down. "I'm sorry."
"Beg your pardon?" An apology was obviously not what he'd expected, judging from the clear note of surprise in his voice.
I managed to lift my head again so I could look at him. "I'm sorry," I repeated. "For everything that went down between us last week. It wasn't how I'd intended the night to go."
Blaine looked at me silently for a little while, as if trying to determine if I was being genuine or not. Much as I wanted to, I couldn't really blame him for his hesitance. If he'd suddenly apologized to me out of the blue, I would have suspected him of ulterior motives, too.
I put the pickle down and wrapped my arms around my midsection. Being open like this made the feelings of vulnerability come rushing back.
"I don't want it to be like this," I continued. "I know you have your family, your work, but I … I don't have anyone except you. I c-can't keep living like this, w-where we d-don't even s-speak and … " I had to pause to not break down completely again, but I couldn't stop the tears that started to pour down my cheeks again while I tried to word exactly how alone I felt.
Blaine made a low noise at the back of his throat, something between surprise and concern. He even took two steps toward me before he paused, his hand falling to his side as if he'd been about to reach for me.
"Look, I … " His frown increased as he looked at me, obviously at a loss for what to do.
I shook my head. "You d-don't have to s-say anything. I'm s-sorry, I d-don't know what's g-gotten into me."
Blaine looked at me for a few more moments before he sighed deeply and sank down on the bar stool next to me. "I hate crying women," he muttered under his breath.
"S-sorry," I hiccuped. "D-didn't want Rob to c-call you."
"And that's the fucking problem, isn't it," he growled. "You're so bloody stubborn."
I didn't have the spirit to point out that he wasn't exactly easy to deal with, either.
Blaine rubbed his face with one hand and gave me a long, evaluating look. "Okay. Here's what we're going to do. I have a business meeting with some really important people on Sunday. They're old family friends, and I know they want to meet the new Mrs. Steel. I'll bring them home for the meeting instead, and you'll set the table and cook dinner like you did last week. If you can get through the entire night without throwing wine, I'll reconsider starting to let you get out a bit more. Show me I can trust you, and this doesn't have to suck as hard."
I blinked, sheer surprise stopping the flow of tears. It had actually … worked? Not being strong to earn his respect, not trying to be friendly to earn his trust … No, breaking down and bawling for more or less inexplicable reasons was what it took to find my way out of this mess.
"Think you can do that?" Blaine seemed noticeably more comfortable, now my sobbing had quieted down. He stretched out his long legs and grabbed a cracker from the open pack, once again the picture of an alpha male in perfect control.
I nodded and reached for another piece of paper towel. Yeah. If it meant I didn't have to go through this crushing loneliness again, then I could play his good little housewife. And who knew-perhaps by the end of it, I would also gain the key to my freedom.
*
Chapter 15
Blaine
The smell of garlic-roasted chicken hit my nostrils the second I walked through the door. Soft jazz played from the dining room, and I could see the warm glow of candle lights spilling out into the doorway, just like it had when I came down to Mira's "Lasagna Surprise" last week. I suppressed a cringe at the memory of how that night had ended. Hopefully, tonight would go a whole lot better. I was banking a pretty big business deal on this, and had had time to regret making the suggestion more than once since I found Mira sobbing in our kitchen in the middle of used tissue paper and clutching a giant jar of pickles. But if it worked …
I sighed softly at the memory of how vulnerable she'd looked as she sat there in her pajama bottoms and the same, silky chemise she'd worn on our wedding night. How frail. And sweet. If it worked, then maybe we could finally move forward. Yeah, I had my work and my family as she'd pointed out, but it didn't help much when all my thoughts had been circling around her for the entire past week. I hated to admit it, even to myself, but not talking to her and having the whole fucked-up disaster that was last Friday hanging over my head had been awful.
Her unexpected apology had been a godsend.
"What a lovely house. A wedding present?" Gerald Brigs, one of my father's old connections and the twins' godfather, looked around the entry hall. Next to him, his nephew, Leo, was in the process of taking off his scarf. He inhaled deeply, obviously appreciating the scents floating out from the kitchen as well.
"Ha, this is the first time I've come to your home and it doesn't smell like stale beer. New wife keeps you on a leash, huh?"
I ignored Leo and turned my focus on his uncle. He was the real power behind this deal anyway-Leo was just here as part bodyguard, part trainee. His dad didn't trust him to handle anything important on his own, and from what I knew of him, I couldn't say it was a big shock.
"Yeah, my father bought it for us. Said my old flat wasn't a place for newlyweds."
Also, he had needed it for one of his money laundering schemes.
"Mmhm, a flat is nowhere to raise little ones. They need grass and trees." Gerald patted me on the back with a jovial grin.