Page 83 of Everlasting Vows

I’m sorry to hear that

Is there anything we can do for you from here?

We’re not worried about how long you take, Oliver said he’ll hold your job for as long as you need

Me

Thanks Jase

I appreciate that

Knowing they’re willing to hold my position for as long as I need untangles some of the knots in my stomach.

Jase

No problem, take care of yourself

I sink into the small sofa and grab my coffee, sipping it slowly, wincing each time I swallow. Shit, that hurts. Maybe I should take some more ibuprofen. I lift the cover off the plate to find scrambled eggs. Okay, so he isn’t here, but he took the time to order room service and was thoughtful enough to choose something that would be easy enough to swallow. This gives me some hope that things will be okay, but where in the hell is he?

I have two options.

Compartmentalize the way I always do. I’m the queen of compartmentalizing. I’ve been doing it all my life; why stop now?

I can go about life the way I always do, pushing through each day and portraying that everything’s fine, even though it’s not. I can spend time with my husband and pretend none of this has eviscerated me, faking that we’re okay just like I have for the last six years.

Or, I can call Nix out and hopefully compel him to have a conversation with me, which may be difficult if he’s shut down and pulled away like I figure he has. It would be the more beneficial option, even though it will be an incredibly uncomfortable and painful one. But if we want to save our marriage, we need to have tough conversations. No sweeping things under the rug, so to speak.

Either way, Murphy needs to be our priority right now, and Nix and I need to work out our shit around him without him being caught in the middle. His recovery and healing need to be our primary concern.

Anger burns in my gut the longer Nix is absent. How could he leave me after what happened last night? He may have ordered breakfast for me, but how dare he abandon me. I deserve a conversation at the bare minimum, not just left to deal with the aftermath alone. I curl my fingers into a tight fist, digging my fingernails into my palms. My blood boils and tension coils my muscles.

A knock at the door interrupts my fury, and I climb to my feet, shaking out my hands. I stop to check that the neck of my sweater still covers my throat in the mirror by the door. I peer through the peephole, but there’s nobody there. Another knock sounds, but it’s not coming from this door. Following the noise, it seems to come from the door which adjoins this room with the room next door. I pad over and place my ear to the door, almost having a heart attack when the person knocks again.

“Abbi. It’s me,” Nix announces, dropping me into a pit of confusion.

Why on earth is he knocking from the room next door?

Realization strikes, and my anger returns to the boil in an instant. He didn’t. I narrow my eyes at the door, in two minds what to do. This is exactly what I hoped he wouldn’t do, but he’s done it anyway. In his mind, he probably thinks he’s doing the right thing. Keeping me safe. But in reality, all he’s done is drive the wedge between us deeper.

“Abbi. I left my key to your room”—My room? My eyebrows shoot up—“behind when I went for a run to clear my head. All of my things are still in your room, but I need to shower before we see Murphy. Please let me in.” A thump vibrates through the door, and I imagine Nix dropping his head against it in defeat.

Let him in? Is he for real right now? I feel as though my head is going to explode.

I unlock and wrench the door open, and he falls forward before he catches himself. “Let you in!” I snap. “All I do is let you in and all you do is shut me out!” My boiling blood heats my face, and I’m sure I look unhinged with the way Nix’s eyes widen. My throat burns with the volume of my voice, and I swallow down the fiery pain. I fling my arm out toward the room from where he entered. “What the hell are you doing?” I whisper-yell, my voice strained and raspy. Shit, that hurts.

He straightens and walks past me as if I’m not furious. My eyes trace every movement as if they have a mind of their own, and I wish I didn’t notice how fantastic he looks sweaty from his run, and the way his T-shirt molds to his broad chest, or the way the sleeves stretch around his biceps.

Damn him. Why does he always have to steal my thoughts like that?

He stands with his back to me for a moment, his hands resting on his trim hips. The way his back moves with each breath in and out is almost mesmerizing, and if it weren’t for my need for some kind of discussion … an explanation, I’d fall at his feet.

When he turns to me, his face is etched with pain. Pain so deep I can tell it reaches the depths of his soul, and I lose my breath for a moment. “I’m trying to keep you safe, Abs,” he growls.

I step closer, closing the distance he’s put between us. “The only place I feel safe is with you.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as though my words are a dagger shoved deep into his heart. “That can’t possibly be true,” he grumbles.

I take another step, closing the space between us further. “Are you calling me a liar?” I whisper as I reach out to cup his bristly cheek. He flinches, and another crack forms across my heart. “Because I know how I feel. Waking up this morning with you gone broke my heart. Feeling abandoned by you hurt more than any bruises around my throat,” I murmur.