Chapter 74

74

Edward

She nods. Thank fuck. Without wasting a second, I lean in and gently fit my mouth over hers. I pour all of my feelings into the kiss. My love for her, my need for her, my apology for how I turned her world upside down. My regret for everything I did that upset her. I’m only a man—hopelessly, completely devoted to his wife, and I try to signal that through my lips on hers. I nip on her lower lip; she moans, parts her lips. I slide my tongue over hers and deepen the kiss. She melts into me. Every pore on my skin is alive, heat squeezes my chest, and my groin hardens. I pull her into my lap, slide my hand over her butt and squeeze.

She gasps, then leans back. "Eddie—" she swallows. "I… I’m not?—"

I place my finger over her mouth. "I’m sorry." I squeeze my eyes shut. "I’m trying to be the kind of man you want, but I seem to be making a mess of it."

I release her, and she slides back onto the couch. "It’s okay."

"It’s not. I want to do everything right. I can’t fuck this up, wife; not when it’s my last chance to win you over."

"Is that what you’re doing? Winning me over?" she asks with a laugh.

"Not doing a great job of it, obviously." I adjust myself, then rise to my feet. "Can I take you to bed?"

She blinks.

"I mean…"—I rub my fingers through my hair—"can I carry you to your bed? And only because I know your feet hurt after wearing those pumps."

When she nods, I switch off the television, then scoop her up in my arms. She cuddles into me, and I walk up the stairs, then place her on her feet next to the bed. I walk into her closet and emerge with the T-shirt—my T-shirt—she likes to wear to bed. I place it down, then bend and kiss her forehead. "Goodnight, wife."

Before I can change my mind, I head for the doorway.

"Eddie," she calls out.

I stop.

"You need to make your peace with Baron."

I don’t reply.

"You need to move on from what happened, and this is the only way out."

I stay silent, and she blows out a breath. "For me, husband? Please."

She knows I'll do anything for her. Even this.

It’s been two weeks since she moved out. Two very long, lonely weeks, during which I’ve been barely functional. I knew I was being insufferable at work, until Nathan barged into my office yesterday and barked at me to take the day off and not come back until I’ve gotten my shit together. I left and wandered the city aimlessly. I kept finding myself walking in the direction of her flat and barely managed to stop myself before I reached it.

Instead, I went home, changed into my running gear, and ran until I was too tired to think straight. Then I went back home, crawled into her bed, under her bedclothes, to try and find some shut eye. Still, I stuck to my promise. I had already removed all my hidden cameras and wiretaps from her devices and her car and had told my investigators to stop following her.

It feels like I cut off a part of myself, but I’ve done what she asked of me. I also managed to not text or call, and fuck, if that hasn’t just about killed me. If it weren’t for the fact that Summer is keeping me updated—without my prompting—that they're hanging out with mutual friends and she's good, I don’t know what I'd do.

I wake up very early, after managing to get a few hours of sleep, and decide to go for another run. Now, I gaze at the skyline of London spread out over me.

There are no tourists at Primrose Hill at this time of the morning. It’s quiet, except for the footsteps of the jogger who runs by. To the side a couple works out. He holds onto her legs as she goes through a series of sit-ups. Then she does the same for him. They’re equal partners, at least for the duration of this exercise session, and so in sync, it hints at their being together for a while. They finish their workout, and he helps her to her feet, then pulls her close and kisses her. She laughs and hugs him, before they jog down the hill.

That’s when I see him. A tall man with broad shoulders wearing a pair of sweats. He begins to jog up the slope. His gait is familiar. The way he holds himself straight, his elbows tucked into his sides, his steps even as he approaches me—all of it is so very familiar. As he nears me, I focus on the view once more. He reaches the bench I’m sitting on and sinks down on the opposite side. For a few seconds, we stay silent. His breathing evens out. I reach for my bottle of water and offer it to him. He takes it without comment and chugs from it, before placing it in the space between us.

"Thanks, man," he murmurs.

I nod. "Sorry it took me a while to reach out to you."

Baron shakes his head. "Never too late. I’m glad you did."

"I almost didn’t,"—I rub the back of my neck—"but she insisted."

"The wife always knows best," he says without any hint of sarcasm.

"No disputing that." I laugh. "And how’s the kid?" I swallow. There, I said it. When I found out Ava was pregnant, it hurt. And I couldn't understand why my reaction was so extreme.

I’d already accepted Ava and Baron were meant for each other. He’d been looking for her since he’d first seen her as a girl. I was the man who abandoned her to find myself. At the time, I blamed her for being the reason I left the church, but time and perspective showed me I would have done so anyway. Meeting her and realizing I hadn’t dealt with any of my issues was the trigger. But if not that, it would have been something else.

So, it was a shock when hearing they were having a child left me in despair. It took falling in love with my wife and realizing there's a chance I might lose her to put that in perspective. Because as much as it hurt to see Baron and Ava together, and to find out she was pregnant, nothing compares to how devastated I was when my wife asked me to give her space to figure things out.

The fact I can’t see her every day, can’t be in the same space as her, can’t look into her eyes or watch as she works in the nursery—all of it is gut-wrenching. It feels like someone reached into my throat and pulled out my heart. For she has it. She has me. And when I can’t be with her, it feels like everything is pointless. Like I've reached the end of my line. Like nothing I do has meaning without her being part of it.

"The kid’s good." He laughs. "We’re going through the entire sleepless night thing, but man, Ava is so fucking good. She’s up at all hours of the night nursing, and I try to relieve her, but of course, the baby needs her right now. I try to stay up with her, and she insists I get my sleep because I have to work the next day. Like that matters. She’s doing the most important thing possible—the real stuff, the stuff that’s messy and genuine and bloody tough. And she’s still worried about me."

"I know the feeling."

He peers closely at my features. "That’s good, Ed, really good."

I finally meet his gaze. "I’m sorry I didn’t stay in touch with you. I… I needed time… Or maybe, that's an excuse. To be honest, I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t want to be jealous of the two of you. I know you two were made for each other, and yet… I couldn’t stop myself from wanting what you had. I felt terrible about it but couldn’t stop myself. I was envious of the two of you, and I’m not proud of it.”

"It takes guts to accept it, and even more courage to share that with me," he murmurs.

"Yeah, well…" I scratch at my unshaven chin. "My wife told me I needed to talk to you."

"And here you are." His lips curve in a smile.

"Indeed."

"And now, you have what Ava and I do." His smile widens.

"I do." I allow myself a small smile. "What we went through, Baron, was the kind of thing that turns men into addicts and makes them do things that destroy their lives. We’re lucky we didn’t end up there."

"Thanks to the women in our lives who stopped us from going off the deep end. They helped us find the humanity in ourselves. They helped us get in touch with our emotions and all that shit. Which we used to look down on." He chuckles.

I rub the back of my neck. It’s true, what he's saying. When the seven of us would get together, before any of us met our women and got married, we’d look down on anything to do with sentiments and feelings. And all the stuff that makes life worth living. And when the men started getting hitched, we’d mock them for being pussy-whipped. I didn’t realize there's a special kind of happiness in meeting the right woman. In coming home to her every night. In waking up next to her every morning. In sharing life’s ups and downs, the good and the bad, and the stuff that makes it all so worthwhile.

There’s a touch on my shoulder. I glance up to find Baron watching me with serious eyes. "She’s too good for you, of course."

"Of course." I half smile.

"And you’re torn about something related to her?"

I’m not surprised Baron sensed that. We’ve been through so much together. Amongst the seven of us, Baron and I have always shared a special bond. One I didn’t value until I didn’t have it in my life. Wisdom truly is based on hindsight, and… When it comes to her, I’m going to make sure I never have cause to say that.

"I may have done things which caused her unhappiness. I was selfish. I only thought about myself. Now, I see I could have done things differently. She's the most important thing to me, and now, I realize… I should have approached her in a different fashion. I should have been more open, allowed her to see my foibles, my weaknesses, my fears"—I wince—"the hurt, the pain I hold within me. I should have allowed her to feel it. I should have—" I swallow around the ball of emotions in my throat. "I should have told her how much I loved her much earlier.”

“But you did tell her, so don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re facing your feelings. You’re embracing the fall-out from the incident. You’re allowing yourself to be vulnerable, Edward. You’re on the right path…”

“But?” I look between his eyes.

“But”—he opens, then shuts his mouth— “it’s not my place to say it.”

“I want to hear it.” Before I ceased all communication with him, Baron was my conscience. After the incident, when my parents turned their backs on me, when I turned to alcohol and drugs as a teenager to cope with the guilt I felt about what had happened to me, it was Baron who rescued me from myself. Also, he’s a successful husband and father. If anyone knows what I should be doing to ensure I don’t fuck up this chance I have been given at finding true love with Belle, then it’s him. “Tell me, Baron.” I squeeze his shoulder. “You’ll be doing me a favor.”

“You need to forgive yourself for everything that happened to you.”

I lower my hand and glance away.

“You know I’m right, Edward. You need to complete this journey you're on. You need to heal yourself, so you can be whole again, for her.”