A Love Like This (49 page)

The fingers of one hand tried to rub away
the burn in my eyes. I followed Julia into the lavish hotel
wordlessly. I didn’t take note of our surroundings. I didn’t care
where we were.

She dug in her purse for the key card and
handed it over when we got to the door of the room. It was dark
inside with the curtains pulled. Part of me hesitated, not wanting
the lights on, not wanting to see the world she’d created in Paris
without me.

“I just want to sleep.” My voice sounded
dead and distant, even to me. “I haven’t slept in… Well, for a
while.”

“Don’t you want to t ta—”

“We can talk later. I’m pissed and
exhausted. It’ll be easier later.” I sensed, rather than saw, Julia
nod. “I know it’s morning for you, but I need to go to bed.”

“Okay,” she agreed, dropping her coat on a
sofa and preceding me into another room, which had to be the
bedroom of the suite. The light she switched on was low and
filtered toward me enough to allow me to drop my bag on the couch,
place my coat with hers, and follow.

The suite was elegant but lacked anything
that would make it Julia’s space. The low light was coming from the
attached bathroom, and I could hear Julia moving around in there.
When she came out, she looked ready for bed, too, which I didn’t
expect given the early morning hour. I cocked an eyebrow in
question.

“I’m really tired, too. All the crying wipes
me out,” she offered in explanation. I didn’t question it, just
took it as a blessing, because maybe with her next to me, I’d
finally be able to get the deep sleep I needed. I pulled off my
shirt and kicked off my Nikes one by one. I inhaled and ran a hand
through my hair. Then it occurred to me. Was I supposed to sleep in
here with her? Should I go to the couch in the other room?

“Are you hungry? I don’t have much food, but
I have yogurt and fruit, and Pellegrino if you’re thirsty. Or, I
can call room service.”

“I’m okay.” The silence was awkward. It felt
foreign, and I hated it.

“Do you need anything? You don’t have much
for bags,” she asked quietly.

I shook my head, not knowing what the fuck I
was doing. I shrugged in defeat. “Uh, toothpaste, and I don’t have
a toothbrush either.” My mind flashed to all the times in college
when we’d pulled all-nighters or I’d ended up crashed at her and
Ellie’s apartment after parties. She’d finally bought me my own
toothbrush to have on hand.

“There’s an extra one in the right hand
drawer. I have a pair of your sweats and one of your T-shirts. Do
you want them?”

I looked at her, finally taking in
everything about her. She was thinner than I remembered, her cheeks
slightly hollow, and dark shadows lurked under her eyes. The long
sleeved thermal shirt she wore hung on her and her legs were bare
beneath it, save for a pair of pink fuzzy socks. My mind briefly
registered they were a stocking stuffer from a few Christmases
back. I wanted to hold her and take away all the bullshit, but I
couldn’t let go of the fact she didn’t trust me or that I’d found
her in another man’s arms thirty minutes before. Did she keep that
toothbrush for him? My jaw tightened, but I mentally shook myself.
She’d said no one touched her, but if she didn’t trust me, could I
believe her?

“Yeah, okay,” I murmured softly. “Just the
sweats.”

“Obviously toiletries are provided here.
That’s where the extra tooth brush came from.” She read my
thoughts, and I flushed guiltily.

She walked forward and took some navy blue
sweatpants from the open suitcase that rested on the only chair in
the room, and laid them on the foot of the bed near me. I didn’t
ask her how or why they were with her in Paris. I didn’t ask her
why her suitcases were packed. Tonight was soon enough for
questions and answers I might not be able to live with. In my
haste, the sleeping pills were still in the pocket of my dirty
scrubs laying in a pile on our bathroom floor in New York. Oh,
well. Maybe with Julia finally in the same room, I’d be capable of
sleep.

“Thanks. Where should I sleep?”

Julia’s brow creased and pain registered on
her beautiful features before she quickly masked it, and turned
away. I knew her so well, yet the past six weeks made me feel like
a stranger. I tried to shake it off, telling myself this was us and
we’d always be us, but I didn’t know where to begin. It hurt like
hell. So much, it made me sick to my stomach.

“I thought…” she hesitated. “In the bed.
Unless… you’re not comfortable with that.”

“No. I mean, it’s fine,” I said shortly,
loudly clearing my throat, before heading into the bathroom and
closing the door behind me.

When I’d finished, I turned out the light
and made my way back to the bedroom. The bed was turned down and
Julia lay on her side with her back to me. I could hear her
breathing in the darkness. It was like a scene from a movie where
the sounds are amplified obnoxiously, like the heartbeat from
A
Tell Tale Heart
pounding harder and faster with each passing
second. At least Julia was sleeping. I wondered if she’d recovered
from her flu.

I hesitated a few seconds before dropping
the sweats and crawling naked into bed. I was too exhausted not to
get a good night’s sleep, and the sweats would make me hot.
Sleep.
I drew the covers up to my waist, flung a bare arm
over my eyes, and I willed the welcome oblivion to come quickly. I
tried to ignore the delicious scent of my wife, now within arm’s
reach. She was close enough I could feel the heat radiating between
our bodies; I could hear her soft intake of breath. I tried to
ignore the emptiness in my arms and the soreness of my heart, and I
wished to hell I’d remembered those fucking sleeping pills. You’d
think that not sleeping for almost 24 hours, would have been
enough.

Ryan tossed and turned next to me, and I
started violently out of my fitful half-sleep when his hand flung
heavily on my chest. My heart ached, and I longed to touch him. The
wall between us was killing me. When he’d held me to him on the
sidewalk, the big vacuum in my chest started to ease. But then,
when he pushed me away and didn’t hold me in the cab, it returned,
more sickeningly than before.

Even with my husband beside me, I felt
isolated; cut off from the one person I needed most in the world. I
still didn’t have him back. My best friend wasn’t with me. I
struggled with it, because, why was he here if he hadn’t set things
straight with Jane and finally understood how she made me feel?
Would he fly all the way to Paris, just to fight with me? Was he
here to end it? A bitter laugh bubbled up, and I held it in.
Wouldn’t that be unbelievable? After I’d decided I could put up
with Jane as long as I knew Ryan was mine, maybe he didn’t want me
anymore. Maybe I’d pushed him too far. If I could, I’d rewind the
world five plus years and just be his friend rather than not have
him at all.

Tears stung at my eyes and bitterness
threatened to choke me. I turned toward him in time to see him flop
onto his stomach and push his pillow roughly to the floor. I put a
trembling hand to my mouth to stop myself from calling out to him.
I wanted his arms to cage me in and pull me to his chest. I wanted
Ryan—my Ryan—to take all of this misery away. I wanted his
passionate whispers and hungry kisses. I wanted to know he loved
me. I needed it like I needed air.

I tried to inhale, but a sob rose up in my
throat, so I turned my face into my pillow to smother it. I cried
hard, my body shaking and my heart breaking, as I struggled to
remain silent.

“Julia.” Ryan called softly.

I gasped at the sound of his sleepy, velvet
voice and turned, my hand reaching through the darkness for his. He
rolled toward me and loomed above me as our hands threaded
together.

“Are we together? Is this real?”

“Yes,” I breathed, and an instant later, his
mouth was hungrily latched onto mine. He kissed me like it was the
first and last kiss we’d ever have. Not a minute passed and he had
my shirt off, and we were skin on skin, both frantic in our efforts
to get closer. My hands squeezed around his butt cheeks as I pulled
his hips toward me, and he parted my legs with his knee.

We kissed again and again. Deep, aching
kisses, full of passion and sorrow, want and need. But the need
felt deeper than physical, even more than emotional. There was a
desperateness born of uncertainty and urgency in each and every
touch. Our fingers pulled at each other’s flesh and then softened
to reverent caresses, hands wound in each other’s hair as we pulled
each other closer still.

Neither of us uttered a word as our bodies
came together in long slow thrusts, our mouths fed on the other and
hands stroked and pleasured. My fingers traced the strong muscles
of Ryan’s back, memorizing every single line, feeling every flex as
he moved above and inside me. He was strong and tender,
heartbreakingly loving and demanding in his need at the same
time.

My breath rushed out and my back arched, the
tension beginning to build, my body opening. I pulled my knees up
to take him in deeper, my hips thrusting opposite his. He was big
and wide, swollen and hard as steel. It felt incredible as my body
stretched to remember his, only to contract around him. Ryan
groaned against my neck, gently biting my shoulder before claiming
my mouth once again. I sucked on his thrusting tongue, and my body
milked his, my muscles begging him to come inside me.

When my breaths began to come in soft pants,
Ryan pulled hard on one breast with his mouth, sucking and twirling
his tongue around the nipple before grazing it with his teeth. His
breath was hot against me, and when his hand reached between us to
stroke the sensitive flesh crying out for his attention, my head
fell back in helpless abandon. His name left my mouth in a
breathless rush, and he took me over the edge in a powerful climax.
Ryan’s thrusts slowed as I rode out my orgasm, his kisses became
less demanding and tender until his movements stilled.

Even as my hips surged against him, urging
him to continue and find his own release, he was motionless, still
embedded deep within me but no longer kissing me. My eyes opened to
find him staring down into my face, his expression pained, his brow
furrowed in confusion and anger, his breathing ragged, and the low
light making the light layer of perspiration on his skin glow. He’d
just made such passionate love to me, but he was angry, and my
heart crumbled to dust.

“How could you leave me without a Goddamn
word?” he asked, sorrow dripping from his words. “Can’t you
feel
how much I love you?” I was still gasping, my body
twitching. I reached up to touch his face with gentle fingers,
aching to take the pain from his eyes, praying for his
understanding. “You knew what it would do to me!” he said brokenly.
“I told you in Boston last year. It would fucking kill me if you
left me!”

Ryan pulled out abruptly and moved to the
edge of the bed, leaving my arms empty, my body bereft, and my
heart breaking for both of us. I was still quaking with the
aftershocks of my climax, and the air around me felt arctic at his
absence. I rolled nearer, my eyes searching for his face, needing
to read his expression, but his back was to me, his head dropped
into his hands, his elbows on his knees. His body shook violently
with the force of his pain, and I could almost smell his tears
mixed in with the scent of our sex and his cologne. His quiet sobs
were left alone in the silence; sorrow flowing and thundering
around me like a violent storm.

He hadn’t let himself come. This wasn’t
about sex. It was about love.

Nothing had changed the love
;
sometimes suffocating, sometimes debilitating, sometimes so joyous
and incredible, but always overwhelming and utterly amazing. The
mad, mad love remained, maybe stronger and more than it had ever
been. Always growing, no matter what we faced. It had always been
unconditional, and nothing could ever change it. Not in this
lifetime or a thousand more. No matter how much we hurt each other,
the love was still strong enough to make us invincible, or kill us
both.

Crawling up behind him, I wordlessly slid my
arms around his waist, one hand reaching out to wrap around one of
his forearms. He didn’t resist or pull from me, but his body was
ridged. Tears spilled from my eyes as I tried to find a way to take
away the pain I myself had caused. More than anything, I needed to
heal the abyss between us, but I felt more helpless than I’d ever
been.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” I whispered, leaning
into him and resting my cheek on the hard muscles of his bare back.
His sobs shook us both, and my heart broke all over again.

“I wanted to make sure you were real, and
not just another fucking dream that turns into a nightmare the
minute my eyes open. I wanted…” his whisper broke raggedly. “No, I
needed
to be close to you… but even making love can’t do it
until we get this shit resolved between us.”