guess I thought you wouldn’t even consider going if I told you what it was." Grace kept her gaze trained on the horizon outside their window. The memory of Henri’s hands, lips and tongue on her body still lingered just below the surface. She wrapped the robe closer around her body.
Ryan ran a hand across his hair and down his face. Grace knew this gesture like she knew her own physical ticks. Heart clenched at the thought that this may be the last serious conversation they had as a married couple, she took a deep breath and continued to just listen.
"I wanted you to have a good time tonight. I, um, know the guy who owns the place and who hosts and, well, I know you’re researching to write some steamier stuff. It just seemed, I don’t know, helpful for you to see some of that scene for yourself." He stood and walked over to the bar but instead of pouring himself a glass of wine, he put both hands on the copper surface and hung his head.
Grace watched him as the unasked questions she had bubbled up in her mind. How do you know him? Why do you know about "that scene?" Her throat tightened in agony. But she remained still, unbending. There was a peace in the silence. For once she wasn’t formulating her answers before he finished talking, trying to figure out a way to make him communicate better or stop being mad for whatever reason.
He kept his head down. "Grace, I'm sorry. I should've never made you feel bad for,” he stopped, seeming to choke back words. She held her breath again, "for being with him." Ryan seemed to deflate. His large frame slumped from the shoulders as his hands dropped to his sides and he turned to look at her. The depth of sorrow in his gaze caught her off guard. The long- suppressed tears behind her eyes slipped out and she let them flow.
He took two steps to the couch and pulled her to her feet, his mouth on hers, his strong arms holding her shaking body. For a moment, she let herself enjoy it, to experience heart-bursting relief that he seemed to still want her. But the memory of his look as he gazed at her and then at Henri back in that bedroom forced her to struggle out of his embrace and step back. She brushed the tears away and resumed her silence.
Ryan stood there, his arms still out as if cradling a ghost, his face was a mask of regret. Grace decided to speak.
"Tell me Ryan. Tell me what you’re feeling right now." When he moved towards her, he she took a step back and held out her hand.
"Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me. Stay over there and just fucking talk to me." Grace was proud she kept the tears out of her lowered voice. Her hands no longer shook as she put them on her hips.
"This has nothing to do with the fact that I had sex with a complete stranger at a party you took me to, does it?"
Ryan shook his head. Keeping his stubbled jaw clenched without speaking, he spoke volumes with his eyes. But Grace wasn't going to let him off that easy. She stood silent, waiting for him to say something.
He lowered his head then looked back up, his eyes glistening.
"I love you, Grace. I'd never do anything to hurt you. I have never, ever felt the way I feel about you before, but I was never taught how to be close, how to open up or let anyone in on my thoughts. If my parents weren’t screaming at each other and throwing shit, they were drunk and ignoring each other. I have zero frame of reference for anything like a healthy adult relationship. It’s why I avoided them for nearly forty years. Until I met you."
He took a shuddering breath and kept talking.
"I spent hours shut up in my room, wishing I was anywhere but in my own house waiting for my father to throw my door open and start berating me for anything and everything he could think of, even though I made straight As, played two varsity sports, made my own money mowing lawns and kept my room spotlessly clean." Ryan’s knees appeared to
Ryan ran a hand across his hair and down his face. Grace knew this gesture like she knew her own physical ticks. Heart clenched at the thought that this may be the last serious conversation they had as a married couple, she took a deep breath and continued to just listen.
"I wanted you to have a good time tonight. I, um, know the guy who owns the place and who hosts and, well, I know you’re researching to write some steamier stuff. It just seemed, I don’t know, helpful for you to see some of that scene for yourself." He stood and walked over to the bar but instead of pouring himself a glass of wine, he put both hands on the copper surface and hung his head.
Grace watched him as the unasked questions she had bubbled up in her mind. How do you know him? Why do you know about "that scene?" Her throat tightened in agony. But she remained still, unbending. There was a peace in the silence. For once she wasn’t formulating her answers before he finished talking, trying to figure out a way to make him communicate better or stop being mad for whatever reason.
He kept his head down. "Grace, I'm sorry. I should've never made you feel bad for,” he stopped, seeming to choke back words. She held her breath again, "for being with him." Ryan seemed to deflate. His large frame slumped from the shoulders as his hands dropped to his sides and he turned to look at her. The depth of sorrow in his gaze caught her off guard. The long- suppressed tears behind her eyes slipped out and she let them flow.
He took two steps to the couch and pulled her to her feet, his mouth on hers, his strong arms holding her shaking body. For a moment, she let herself enjoy it, to experience heart-bursting relief that he seemed to still want her. But the memory of his look as he gazed at her and then at Henri back in that bedroom forced her to struggle out of his embrace and step back. She brushed the tears away and resumed her silence.
Ryan stood there, his arms still out as if cradling a ghost, his face was a mask of regret. Grace decided to speak.
"Tell me Ryan. Tell me what you’re feeling right now." When he moved towards her, he she took a step back and held out her hand.
"Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me. Stay over there and just fucking talk to me." Grace was proud she kept the tears out of her lowered voice. Her hands no longer shook as she put them on her hips.
"This has nothing to do with the fact that I had sex with a complete stranger at a party you took me to, does it?"
Ryan shook his head. Keeping his stubbled jaw clenched without speaking, he spoke volumes with his eyes. But Grace wasn't going to let him off that easy. She stood silent, waiting for him to say something.
He lowered his head then looked back up, his eyes glistening.
"I love you, Grace. I'd never do anything to hurt you. I have never, ever felt the way I feel about you before, but I was never taught how to be close, how to open up or let anyone in on my thoughts. If my parents weren’t screaming at each other and throwing shit, they were drunk and ignoring each other. I have zero frame of reference for anything like a healthy adult relationship. It’s why I avoided them for nearly forty years. Until I met you."
He took a shuddering breath and kept talking.
"I spent hours shut up in my room, wishing I was anywhere but in my own house waiting for my father to throw my door open and start berating me for anything and everything he could think of, even though I made straight As, played two varsity sports, made my own money mowing lawns and kept my room spotlessly clean." Ryan’s knees appeared to
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