This Man Confessed(47)

“Hey, come here.” He curls his forearm around my waist, and then drags me across the bed, onto his lap. I feel his palm smooth my hair and pull it from my face, and I peek through my eyes to see a glass of fizzing water being held to my lips. “Drink,” he presses. I let him tip the glass to my mouth, and I sip the welcome cool, fizzing liquid.

I finish the whole glass and then collapse against his bare chest.

“How bad is it?” he asks.

“Bad,” I croak. My eyes are heavy, and I’m far too comfortable to open my mind to the events that have united me and this stinking hangover—united me with this maddening man.

I feel him shift on the bed and then lean back, taking me with him. At least he’s talking to me enough to look after me in my pitiful state. What sort of person punishes the alcoholic love of her life by going out and getting drunk? And when she’s pregnant, not that he’s aware. What sort of person torments her crazily possessive husband by shoving her tongue down another man’s throat? The same sort of person who hides the love of his life’s pills to try and get her pregnant on the sly, that’s who. We’re made for each other.

“I’m sorry-ish,” I say quietly.

He kisses my hair. “Me too.”

I lay in a sorry heap across him, drifting in and out of sleep and in and out of thought.

“What are you thinking?” he asks quietly, almost apprehensively.

“I’m thinking we can’t go on like this,” I answer honestly. “It’s not good for you.” I leave out the fact that it’s not good for me, either.

He sighs. “I don’t care about me.”

“What are we going to do?” I press.

He’s silent for a few moments, and then he shifts me onto my back and nudges my thighs apart to cradle himself between them. He takes a deep breath and drops his forehead to my chest. “I don’t know, but I do know how much I love you.”

I sag and look up at the ceiling. I know that as well but the saying love conquers all is being tested to its limit here. He plays the love card every time, like it’s an acceptable excuse for his neurotic ways.

“Why did you do it?” I ask. I don’t have to elaborate further. He knows what I’m referring to.

He looks up at me, his frown line crawling across his forehead. “Because I love you,” he says defensively. “Everything is because I love you.”

“You treat me like trash, fuck me in the toilet of a bar, and then walk out to go and feel up another woman? Did you do that because you love me, too?”

“I was trying to prove a point,” he argues quietly. “And watch your mouth.”

“No, Jesse, you were trying to be a wanker.” I shift slightly under him, and he looks up at me anxiously. “I need a shower.”

He searches my eyes but eventually rolls off to let me up. I drag myself from the bed and into the bathroom, closing the door behind me before brushing my teeth and getting in the shower. I feel completely deflated and want to crawl back into bed and forget about everything, but my racing mind is venturing into frightening territory, making my head ache further. I’ve not seen him for four days. I’m trying my hardest not to venture there, but I really can’t help it, especially in light of his last disappearing act.

I jump when I feel his hand slide around my stomach and his lips rest on my shoulder. “Let me,” he whispers, taking the sponge and turning me around. He kneels in front of me and takes my foot, resting it on his thigh, before starting to sweep the soapy sponge up my leg.

His frown line is nowhere to be seen. He looks content, peaceful, and relaxed, just how I like him to be. “Where have you been since Monday?” I ask as I watch him closely. He doesn’t tense or flick me cautious eyes; he just continues slowly washing me as the water beats down around us.

“In hell,” he answers softly. “You left me, Ava.” He doesn’t look at me, and he’s not using an accusing tone, but I know he’s pointing out that I broke my promise.

“Where were you?” I push, dropping my foot back to the shower floor and lifting my other when he taps my ankle.

“I was trying to give you space. I realize how I am with you, Ava, and I wish I could stop myself. I really do.”

He still hasn’t answered me. I know all of that. “Where were you, Jesse?”

“Following you,” he whispers. “Everywhere.”

“For four whole days?”

He looks up at me and stops with the sponge sweeps. “My only comfort was seeing how lost you were, too.” He reaches up and takes my hand, pulling me down to him so I’m kneeling, too, mirroring him. He pushes my wet hair from my face and leans in to softly kiss my lips. “We’re not conventional, baby. But we’re special. What we have is really special. You belong to me, and I belong to you. It just is. It’s not natural for us to be apart, Ava.”