“Wha—What do you mean?” she asks, furrowing her brows, her shivering body still snug against me.
“I…fuck. I needed to see the food thing,” I say, shaking my head. “To see if it was real.”
What did I do?
Her lips part, and a little “o” appears on them until her soft gaze turns into a dark one. “You thought I had an issue with… So you asked Larry to cook this, especially for—for me?” Anger and deception fill her stunning face as I sense her body pushing me away.
“I fucked up, I realize now. I didn’t know it would get that far.” I want to tell her that I did it for a reason. I wanted to get back at her for calling me a jerk.
No, shit, I’m fucking lying to myself.
I needed to hurt her.
There.
I fucking said it.
I needed to hurt her to see if I’d feel something watching her in pain. To see if my dark, twisted heart would twitch at thesight of her agony or if it would remain unbothered after years of loneliness.
And I got my answer.
So fucking loud and so fucking clear, I knew instantly I couldn’t spend another minute of my existence watching her in pain. I’m falling hard and fast for a tornado that’s going to tear me apart, and I’m not even appalled by it. I want to know every corner of her until there’s not a single cell of her body and mind that remains unknown to me. I want to dig into her like a surgeon, sew back her wounds, and kiss every scar she's ever had. I’m falling for my wife at a record speed, and I’m not even gonna try to deny it.
A hard slap gets me out of my thoughts, blood pulsing in my veins as I realize Mia hit me in the face. I don’t even turn my head, her strength too light to move a mountain like me. Instead, I bring her closer.
“How could you?” Tears build back into her eyes, filled with anger and disgust. My heart aches at the sight.
What heart?
“I fucked up, Mia. I’m sorry, really.”
Since when do I apologize to people?
Her palms push against my chest as she tries to stand up and escape my arms. I try to keep her close ‘cause I’m not sure I’ll ever stand the feeling of not touching her anymore, but her words break through me like daggers.
“Don’t. Touch. Me,” she says between gritted teeth. And at that instant, the floor disappears under me, watching her stand up as I’m still sat on the marble of our bathroom.
“Mia.” Standing up and walking toward her, “You gotta see a doctor.” No fucking way I’m letting my wife go without medical care after her panic attack.
She shakes her head. “I don’t need to see a doctor, Ares. What I need is to be as far away from you as I can.” Her wordsslap me right in the face. She turns toward our room, grabs her orange nightgown, and disappears in the hallway.
I turn on the sink, her side full of fucking makeup tubes and glitters and shit I don’t know about, and splash cold water on my face.
Fuckin’ hell.
How do you win over someone you’re already married to?
Chapter 7
Mia
Curled up in the guest bedroom, I sniffle after hearing a knock on the door. It’d better not be him because, after a night of crying my heart out after thinking I was about to die, I’m about to punch him if I ever see his face again.
“Mrs Malone, it’s Maria.” Her sweet and caring voice escapes the door. “Can I come in?”
I sit on the bed, trying to pull my hair in some sort of presentable shape. Maria is in her black and white uniform, her short brown hair impeccable and a soft smile dancing on her lips as if she carries all the goodness of the world in her. I don’t know if she has children, but I’d bet she’d be the kindest mother anyone could wish for.
“Here,” she says calmly, putting a breakfast silver tray on the foot of the bed. “The doctor will be there in an hour. Call me if you need anything,” she says.
