Does he not want to fight for us? Because I can’t continue to do all the heavy lifting in this relationship. My mental and physical energy is already stretched thin because of the pregnancy.
Maybe this would be easier to deal with if Ronan were just avoiding me, but he’s not. He’s avoidingeverything.He’s barely left his office in days, let alone the house, and I have a feeling it’s so he doesn’t have to leave me alone because the overprotective asshole fired Stephen.
I’m not sure if it’s just from his bodyguard duties or if he’s off the books completely, but either way, taking out his frustration on Stephen was truly the final nail in his coffin.
I’ve had enough.
I turn off the TV, which I was barely watching, and toss the remote down onto the couch.
Not having Stephen following me around has been weird, and I actually miss his company. While he might not have been a friend in the way that Mila is, I appreciated his efforts to listen and offer me advice when I needed it.
Padding out into the foyer in my bare feet, I pause as I listen for any sign of Ronan.
The answering silence tells me all I need to know. It’s thick and oppressive, like the life has been sucked out of this house.
He used to fill the space with his presence, and I hate to admit that I miss the sound of his voice and his laughter. But more than that, I miss his touch.
I miss the feel of his fingers interlaced with mine and the warmth of his mouth as he kisses my forehead before we go to sleep at night. Sure, I miss his touch in other ways too, but right this minute, I would happily trade all the orgasms in the world just to have an actual conversation with my husband.
I take a deep breath, walk down the hall toward Ronan’s office, and when I reach the closed door, I curl my hand into a fist and knock against the wood.
“Come in.”
I open the door and step inside.
He’s exactly where I knew he’d be, hunched over his laptop as his fingers fly across the keyboard. He barely looks up, so I wait for him to notice me.
Ronan’s body stiffens, but his eyes remain fixed on the screen in front of him. “I’m busy.”
I walk over to the desk, touch my hand on the edge of his laptop, and close it.
“I’m sure you can spare a couple of minutes to your wife.”
“Ciara, I need to?—”
“No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to hide in here all day and pretend everything is fine.”
He gets up and comes around the desk. “I’mtryingto work.”
“No. What you’re doing is avoiding me as well as this conversation.”
“And what conversation is that?”
He’s standing so close that heat radiates from his body.
A shiver runs down my spine as I fight the urge to reach out and run my hands over his chest. He must have snuck out of his office at some point because he’s wearing a fresh shirt and slacks, black of course, and when I inhale, I bite back a moan as I catch a waft of his musky cologne.
Damn hormones.
“The one where you admit that you fucked up.” I try to ignore the dull ache that is building between my thighs just from being in close proximity to Ronan.
The muscle in his jaw ticks as he looks down at me, his eyes so dark in the dim lighting of the study that they look almost black.
“I’m trying to keep our world from imploding, and that includes keeping you safe.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You’ve barely spoken to me since you went off on Stephen for no reason. I was hoping for an apology.”
Ronan’s nostrils flare. “I went off on him because he was all over you.”
