He looks down at the counter, his jaw tight. “They weren’t just distant. They were… selfish. Cruel, in their own way. Affairs, lies… they didn’t care who saw. They’d bring people home, Anna. Into our house. Into their marriage bed. And one time…” His voice falters, and he drags a hand over his face. “One time I walked in on my father. With the housemaid.”
My heart twists painfully. What must it be like for a little boy stumbling into that? Somewhere, it explains so much about the skeletons he must be battling, especially when it comes to relationships, love and trust.
“I told myself I’d never be like them. But the older I got, the more terrified I became that I might be exactly like them. That I’d eventually turn into them.” His knuckles whiten around the phone. “And when I pushed you away, when I let us break… a part of me thought maybe it was inevitable. Maybe I was like them, after all.”
“No.” The word bursts out of me before I can stop it. My chest aches, but I lean forward, needing him to hear me. “Landon, you are not like them. Not even close.”
His eyes narrow slightly, like he cannot believe what I’m saying.
“You were the perfect husband,” I add.
He scoffs, almost mocking. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” I insist, my throat thick. “Yes, you drove me crazy sometimes. You were stubborn, overbearing, and annoying as hell. But you loved me. And no matter what else happened, I never doubted that.”
His breath catches, and his eyes soften as the tension in his face melts away. For a moment, we just stare at each other, thesilence stretching between us, heavy with all the things we’ve never said.
Then, quietly, he says, “I’m not telling you this to gain your sympathy or justify what I did. I know—” I place a hand over his lips, stopping him.
“I know.”
He smiles against my fingers. “Will you give me another chance?”
“I did give you one,” I whisper back, my voice barely more than a breath as I drop my hand.
He shakes his head and leans forward. “No. I need one more. One more chance, Anna. To be the man you deserve. To prove I’m not them. To prove I can give you and our daughter the family you both deserve.”
The intensity in his eyes scorches through me, pulling me under. My throat tightens as tears spill over, my fingers gripping the edge of the counter to stay upright. I don’t know if I can survive another chance with him, or if I’ll make it out whole after that. I don’t know if I want to run… or fall all over again. All I know is that every part of me wants to believe him.
But right now, no words can express what I feel. There’s only one answer I can give.
With my heart pounding, I lean toward him and press my lips to his.
It’s soft at first, unsteady, a doubt and a confession tangled into one. His breath hitches against mine, and then his hand comes up, cradling my jaw, holding me as if I might slip away. When he finally pulls back, his eyes search mine, desperate for my answer.
“Anna…” he whispers, his voice frayed at the edges.
“Make love to me,” I breathe, my words shaky but certain.
For a heartbeat, he simply stares at me, as if making sure he heard me right, like I truly meant it. Then, in the next second,he stands and sweeps me into his arms. I gasp, clutching his shoulders, but he only pulls me tighter against his chest. The steady thud of his heartbeat drums against my ear as he carries me down the hallway.
Neither of us speaks. His eyes stay locked on mine, burning and tender all at once, and I forget how to breathe.
And when he sets me down on his bed, my pulse turns wild. My fingers curl into the sheets to steady myself, but the moment he leans over me, I’m completely lost.
He claims my lips as though apologizing and vowing he will never ever hurt me again. His hands move with reverence, tracing the curves of my body as if every inch of me deserves worship.
My breath hitches as his mouth trails down my neck. I thread my fingers into his hair, tugging him closer in a silent plea, and he answers with a low groan that vibrates through my skin.
God, I can feel myself unravel beneath him, piece by piece. It’s overwhelming, this heady mix of passion and ache, of breaking and healing all at once.
When he finally pulls back and meets my gaze, it’s raw, stripped bare of the hurt he’s kept hidden for years.
And I realize we both don’t need words. In this moment, our hearts are saying everything we’ve been aching to hear, and it’s more than I ever imagined possible, after everything we’ve been through.
Holding my gaze, he draws me close and finally moves inside me. And this time, when we make love, it’s not just a scratch to itch or an urge or to chase away doubts like last time. It’s deep. Soul-deep. The years, the distance, the hurt… they all melt away until there’s nothing left but us. Him and me. And our love.
His forehead rests against mine, our breaths mingling, his voice breaking as he whispers my name like a prayer with every thrust.
