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“Your ex was an ass. I am your husband now. Don’t thank me for treating you the way you deserve to be treated.”
I hate going to the doctor. Not because I’m worried about health issues. Nope, it’s because I hate stepping on the scale. The moment when the nurse asks me to take off my shoes always sends me into a panic. I’d rather leave them on because then I could blame those extra fifteen pounds on my clothes and the flats that are practically weightless.
“I was always looking, Livy. When you were married to someone else. When you were pregnant. When you were a different size after giving birth… I was never not looking, and I always liked what I saw.” I lean down, my nose brushing against her neck, and inhale her. “You’ve always had my attention,” I whisper against her. “This is just the first time you’ve noticed, because you’re finally looking back.”
“Fuck the patriarchy and the way it’s made us all question our self-worth. If we’re being honest here, then I’ll admit that the two-parent household image we’re inundated with leaves me constantly wondering if I’m enough.”
“Dad and Mom may not have been there, but you always were. We were lucky to have you. Liv is too.”
There’s just something about a man who softens for only the people he cares about.
Or maybe he was reacting to the way I was staring at my best friend’s lips like they were my salvation. God, I was practically panting for a taste.
When she brings my hand up and presses a kiss to my wrist, I suddenly understand why little boys always ask pretty girls to kiss it better. That simple gesture instantly takes away the sting. Probably because I can focus on nothing but the sensation of her soft lips on my skin and the electricity that arcs through me at the contact.
“Intentional or not, I slept with another woman’s husband.”
But as far as ruining him? Yeah, I guess I will. I’ll ruin him for every other woman. Because Brooks is mine, and I won’t give him up.
The man is too good. I’m so fucking turned on I can barely hold back from jumping him right now.
“You’re gorgeous.” My voice is nothing but a rasp. She’s stolen the air from my lungs. “And you are everything I’ve ever wanted.” There’s a vulnerability in her tone. A raw honesty.
“If someone walks out, I’ll take the blame. I threw myself at you, forced myself onto you. Needed to have you. How could I not when you take care of me so well? You make me feel so good. Better than anyone has ever made me feel.”
The truth hit me hard then. There wasn’t a single person in my life who was willing to show up just for me. I wasn’t enough.
The idea—that I could ever be enough for someone—slices through me.
Can someone be an even more potent version of themselves? I think so. In this moment, when he’s looking at me like this, he’s more himself than he’s been in months.
I suppose we’re all a work in progress. But isn’t that what life is? A work in progress?
