The Score by Bethany-Kris

anything at all to her. He only wanted to help.
    “One of the nurses at the hospital, she was in my room when you left for a bit.”
    “And?” Anton pressed.
    “I’m not sure if she was just trying to help, but she called the baby tissue.”
    Anton felt his spine crack as he stood a little straighter. “What?”
    “You know, like cells and tissue. That’s all the baby was, according to her. She said it didn’t even have a heartbeat at the gestation it was and things like that. I don’t think she meant any harm, just trying to—”
    “Distinguish the difference between the soul of a baby and the worth of tissue to a woman who had just lost a pregnancy? For what, to dictate how she should feel? That’s fucking ridiculous,” Anton muttered angrily. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “Because in her own way, she was just trying to help, Anton. But it made me think, and it’s been on my mind all month. Was that what you thought of the miscarriage, just … tissue? I wouldn’t be hurt if you did,” Viviana rushed to say when Anton stayed silent. “I might not understand, but I wouldn’t persecute you for it, either.”
    “No, I didn’t.”
    Viviana stared up at him, confused. “That’s it?”
    Yeah, it was, really. Anton correlated the pregnancy to his wife. It was something they, with love, had made together. Just like their son and their life. Maybe the form it was lost at was simply tissues and cells but it was much, much more than that, too.
    “It was ours, Viviana,” Anton said honestly. “That was all that mattered to me.”
    “Ours,” she echoed.
    For the first time in longer than Anton wanted to admit, his wife smiled the tiniest smile.

Chapter Seven
     
    Viviana used the tip of her finger to trace along Anton’s cheekbone. The strong lines of his face always relaxed in his sleep, making his appearance more boyish than the intense stares he usually sported when awake. Wearing nothing but his boxer-briefs and covered with only a sheet, nearly all of his beautiful, masculine form was on display for her to enjoy while he slept.
    She didn’t feel so damned guilty, then. Viviana didn’t even understand why it was that she felt guilty over looking at him, anyway. Maybe it was because she yearned and ached to be closer to him than what she allowed, but things were still holding her back.
    The miscarriage would be an acceptable excuse, and certainly an understandable one, if that was the reason why. Viviana knew it wasn’t. More than anything, she craved the comfort and intimacy Anton would give her physically, but she also didn’t trust herself enough not to hurt when it was over.
    Desperately, Viviana held onto the knowledge that Anton loved her. When she was fighting to be found, he wasn’t far behind. When she was tattered in pieces, he was putting her back together. There was a strength in his love that had an almost suffocating quality, but she’d die happily wrapped in it. A certain devotion glimmered in his eyes that he reserved solely for her. He could be strong willed, possessive, jealous, and sometimes, just downright difficult, but he was hers . That love—all-encompassing and seemingly never-ending—was there. It was as true as it would ever be.
    Viviana didn’t deny that.
    But, he’d hurt her, too. Even if a million parts of her heard Anton every time he promised it couldn’t have happened the way it seemed, that he’d never touch another female willingly, something had happened with that woman. Anton allowed himself to be put in a position where his fidelity, both past and future, was in question. Viviana’s trust was shaken. It rocked her foundation in a way she hadn’t considered.
    Viviana was finding it hard to move past that.
    She wanted to, though. So badly.
    Verbally and emotionally, the two were connecting. Maybe even in a way they hadn’t been able to before because when they did need to connect, the first thing one reached for was the other, physically. To touch,