Page 66 of If I Didn’t Have You

How many times had I demanded food at a certain time or nagged her about needing something done around the house? Everything she did was according to my timetable, and not once did I lift a finger to help her.

I was a jerk, and it was clear as day that it was going to take a hell of a lot more to fix what was wrong between us than for me to have an epiphany.

I needed to make some major changes, or I would never win her heart back.

19

CLARA

Why did I drink so much last night?

Right. Because I was having fun. That three letter word that made me feel so alive in the heat of the moment, but was now rearing its ugly head, reminding me of the aftereffects that would torture me for days to come.

I was not accustomed to partying, and with how much I drank, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that I would pay dearly for my night of freedom.

Rolling my head to the side on the smooth wood surface of the table, I barely caught a glimpse of my sexy husband through the blurriness of my vision. He was a sight to behold in only a towel, and it struck me as odd that he was walking around with it slung low around his waist when he hadn’t done that since the kids were just babies.

I sighed dreamily.

I missed this side of him.

Early mornings where he walked around, showcasing those hard abs that had now become less defined with lack of use. He still got out and worked on the ranch, but it was nothing like it used to be when he was out working with the cattle. Those long, hard days had kept him in shape over the years, but now…

Well, he had a bit of a dad bod.

And while I still found him extremely attractive, I imagined it was similar to how he looked at me when I walked around in those grandma clothes. I still loved the man he was, but I missed the way he used to cart me around as if I weighed nothing at all.

A plate of food was placed on the table directly beside my face, but the smell made me gag, nearly sending me to the bathroom.

“Come on, baby,” he rumbled as I groaned and turned my head away. “I know you don’t want to, but you need to get something in your stomach.”

“Uh-uh.”

Sighing, my husband hauled me into his arms, then plopped me down on his lap. My arms immediately went around his neck, holding him tight as I buried my face against his throat. God, he smelled good.

“Baby, you’re not going to feel any better if you don’t eat.”

“Feel nauseous,” I murmured.

“I know, baby. Come on. Just one bite.”

I shook my head, but turned anyway, opening my mouth a scant inch for him to shove the fork inside. I tasted nothing but vomit and alcohol, and if I thought about it too hard, I’d only end up back in the bathroom.

But as it was, I did my best to follow his instructions, knowing he had more experience with this than me. By the time he relented, I just wanted to go back to sleep. I was exhausted and it felt like every muscle in my body was on fire.

There was no way I was ever drinking like that again.

Girls night out could suck it.

“Bed,” I murmured, still too weak to move on my own.

“I know, baby.”

Getting to his feet, he effortlessly carried me upstairs, but instead of taking me to bed, he carried me to the bathroom.

“Let’s brush your teeth. You’ll never feel better with that taste in your mouth.”

I appreciated his thoughtfulness, and it vaguely ran through my mind that he was being a little too nice to me, but I didn’t have the brain power to think too much about it in my current state.