“Tell me the truth, please.”
Her eyes soften, and she inhales a slow, fortifying breath. “You’re not angry, Steven. Never angry. Neither of us are. And honestly, I think that’s one of our problems.”
“So wedohave problems?”
“Who doesn’t?” Her lips twist into a small, tired smile. “There’s a lot going on in our lives. And for a while now, we haven’t been doing great. We’ve been in therapy.”
“Therapy?” I never saw myself as someone needing to see a professional, let alone in my marriage. “We’re that bad?”
“It was your idea.”
“Myidea?” I shake my head. “Who am I around here?”
She laughs at this. “You’re an adult, apparently. Life came at us fast, and Ithink…” Her face softens, like she’s deciding how much to say. “I think we’ve come to a place where we’re handling things differently. So yes, we’ve been in therapy, much to my dismay.”
Now I laugh. “Has it helped?”
“You think it has.”
“Ouch.”
“I mean, it has a little—don’t get me wrong,” she concedes, squeezing my arm. Warmth blooms in my chest at the feel of her fingers against my skin. “But as you can tell from earlier,I’mnot great at working out our problems.I don’t like to face them. I tend to run away, hide in my guilt.” She scoffs at herself. “So it wasn’t that I was scared of you; I was ashamed. I should’ve told you about your mom sooner. I feel terrible, Steven. Awful.”
“You didn’t do it on purpose, though.”
“Are you sure about that?” she jokes weakly.
I give her a look, knowing her better than she realizes, and she rolls her eyes. Emma is too kind. She’d never keep something like that from me on purpose. It’s not who she is.
“So if it was an accident, why the wall?” I mime an invisible barrier between us. “If I’m not angry, why not talk to me?”
She huffs out a laugh. “Because I’m bad at it.”
“You seem to be doing fine right now.”
“Maybe I’m less threatened by Young Steven.” She shrugs, eyes sparkling as her bare lips tip into a mischievous smile. “Young Steven doesn’t know things; he hasn’t seen things. He’s…impressionable.”
“Impressionable, eh?” I arch a brow.
“Very.” She smiles, teasing now. “I can convince him of anything. Impress on him a new way of thinking.” She’s theatrical as she waves her hand around, as if the new way of thinking is just beyond us, then lets her hand settle on my thigh.
“Oh, really?” I laugh, poking her ribs, and she giggles.
A smile breaks across my face at how natural it feels to flirt with her. It tells me there’s still a desire there. A desire for both of us.
Confidence sparks in my chest at this, so I lean closer and whisper, “Please, Emma, impress on me all you want.”
The tension shifts instantly. It’s warmer now, humming with electricity, her hot gaze roving over me, lazily appraising. I see the shift in her eyes, thewantthere. Her mouth parts just slightly. Her eyes flick to my lips, and she licks hers.
This is familiar. I know it is.
My heart hammers in my chest, stuttering over the need now coursing through my blood. I need her, not just the comfort of her touch, but to spend my life with her. I know I do.
I rest my hand on her thigh, just below the hem of her pajama shorts. A tantalizing border I can’t resist playing with. My fingers toy with the lace trim, and her breath catches. So does mine. For a moment, the world goes still.
She swallows as pink flushes her neck. “We should sleep,” she whispers, her emerald eyes never leaving my mouth.
“I don’t want to sleep.”
