AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Fuck me, she was beautiful. Her empathy just made me cry harder. What the fuck was going on, though? Maybe this was what people meant when they described a nervous breakdown.
And she was naked and dripping wet, just to add guilt to my heap of misery. I scrambled to my feet and searched frantically in the small room for her towel.
Trying to clear my throat of the raw emotion, I said, “Here, baby. You’re cold.”
“I don’t care.” She batted at my towel-clad hands. “Please tell me what’s going on. You looked like you saw a ghost when you burst through that door,” she said while I ignored her defenses and patted her dry with the towel. If she wouldn’t take the bath sheet and dry herself, I’d do it for her. Hell, I’d do it for her every time she bathed if she would let me.
“And why are you home so early?” she added as if it just occurred to her my behavior wasn’t the only odd detail here.
“Where’s your robe? You’re going to get sick. I know how cold you are after the shower.”
“Please answer me.” She stepped back and out of my reach so I would finally still. I stared at her for long moments, trying to come up with an explanation for my erratic behavior.
I bowed my head until my chin met my chest and wiped my cheeks with the backs of my fists. The embarrassment was so stifling, I couldn’t organize my thoughts.
“I was worried,” I croaked, knowing damn well that didn’t explain much. Her confused expression proved my thought. I filled my lungs with a slow, deep breath and then exhaled. “I was so worried, baby. You can’t begin to imagine what I was coming up with in my head while I drove here. I thought for sure you were dead.”
And I panicked.
I’d just found this vivacious, intelligent, beautiful human, and the thought of her being taken from me so soon gutted me. A mournful sound came from the center of my chest, and my stunning bride patiently waited for more of an explanation. That sound alarmed her, though, and she stepped in closer to comfort me.
“I tried calling you, and texting you, and you didn’t even read them. They just sat there. With every minute that ticked by, my anxiety ratcheted up. Thanks to yesterday’s episode, by the time I got here, I had myself convinced you had either drown in your own vomit, or hell, I don’t know. I freaked out.”
“Oh, baby,” she cooed and stroked her hands up and down my arms.
“Where’s your phone? Why didn’t you answer me?” I demanded then. Now that I saw she was fine, my embarrassment was morphing back to anger.
Her eyes darted around the room wildly. No way she even saw where she was looking, and no, the device wasn’t lying on the floor of the bathroom. “I don’t even know, to be honest. Probably still in my handbag from church yesterday. You know that thing is just a nuisance to me.” She let out a little chuckle and added, “It’s probably dead at this point.”
I’d just shaved at least five years off my life from panic, and she thought it was amusing? I sucked in a deep breath to go off on her and put on the brakes before a single stupid word crossed my lips.
Fighting wouldn’t solve anything here.
“Carmen, listen,” she said while standing. She went out into the bedroom and climbed onto the bed. “Come sit with me, please. Clearly we need to talk about whatever’s really going on,” she said calmly. “You can’t possibly react this way every time I’m not at your immediate beck and call. It’s not reasonable.”
I joined her on the bed and snuggled up alongside her, laying my head in her lap when she motioned a sort of invitation. I could stay nestled in that paradise for days. She ran her fingers through my hair, attempting to tame the wild mess it had become during my hysteria.
“Talk to me, please,” she said quietly and stopped the petting as my cue.
At that point, I had to clear up the things that were eating away at my insides. If I felt more confident that she was taking care of herself when I wasn’t around, maybe I’d worry less.
“Can we talk about yesterday?” I asked carefully. I didn’t want any of my questions to be the figurative pin from the grenade of her temper.
“Ohhhh kaaaay,” Agatha replied with caution. Couldn’t blame her, really.
“I know what you did,” I admitted and instantly hated how the words sounded on the air. So accusatory…and really, they were. I’d leveled the accusation and wanted her to defend her choices.
“Yes, your whole churchy family does. Those poor kids in that classroom are probably traumatized.” She chuckled, and again the lighthearted attitude was like nails on a chalkboard.
“I mean, I know why you got sick. And why it was the color it was.”
There. That pretty much spelled out what I was doing such a shit job at saying.
“Okay,” she plainly offered.
“Just okay? Do you want to say anything else about it?”
“Do you?” Her question ricocheted back so fast, I momentarily wondered if I’d said her part too.
