A heavy silence descends once he leaves the room and my heart sinks with dread. I feel his eyes upon me, burning through me like a raging fire. He sets the bag of food down on the table next to me and crosses his arms over his chest.
“You really expect me to believe you two arejust friends?”
Avoiding his gaze, I look down at Caroline. “We are just friends, Dean. I’ve hardly spoken to him,” I say, holding my baby girl tighter.
That ever present guilt niggles in my gut, knowing that while I speak the truth—we are just friends—in my heart I still long for him. I need to find a way to move past that. Make it go away.
But I have no idea how.
“Bullshit. I see the way he looks at you. And if he ever kisses you like that again, I’ll fucking kill him.”
I hate it when he speaks to me this way, and I don’t like that I am intimidated by him.
He leans forward, holding on to the rails with both hands. His face is inches from mine. I can smell the remnants of his last cigarette and taste the panic in my mouth.
“You aremywife,” he says. “I don’t want him coming around anymore or you talking to him on the phone. That shit’s not right.”
I raise my chin in an act of defiance. “You can’t tell me who to be friends with.”
“The hell I can’t.” The tone of his voice straightens my spine.
“You’re being ridiculous, Dean. He’s…”
“He’s what?”
I look down at my sleeping angel, avoiding his accusing glare. “He’s my best friend.”
Dean’s fingers grip my chin firmly as tears fill my burning eyes. “Well it’s time to decide if you’re his friend or my wife.”
I nod, submitting to the anger residing in his dark brown eyes.
He carefully gathers Caroline from my arms and cradles her against his chest. “Now eat. Before it gets cold.”
In the short time I’ve been a mother, I have found strength I didn’t know I had and discovered a fear I never knew existed.
