“Which feelings?”
“Like I don’t belong anywhere.” It comes out quiet.
“And did you feel that way yesterday, too?”
I shake my head. “No. Yesterday was… how it should be.”
She tips her head. “What do you mean?”
“It was sad. Horribly sad. But…” I have to break off. “Someone hugged me.” Tears I didn’t even know were building drip down my cheeks. “And it-it just… I didn’t even know her, but she hugged me, and I hugged her back, and it helped. Ya know? It was just a simple hug, and suddenly, I didn’t feel so alone anymore. And it just… It makes me so mad. Because why couldn’t I have had that?” I rub my hands across my cheeks. “I know we can’t change the past, but I can’t stop myself from wondering how my life would be different if I’d had that sort of… support.”
The doctor nods. “Just because we can’t change the past, doesn’t mean we can’t be mad at it.”
“I know.” I sniffle.
“And it’s okay to daydream about a different life, so long as you’re still giving yourself credit for what you’ve accomplished on your own.”
I nod.
“But you said today was better?” she asks.
“Yeah. I, um, slept well last night.” My cheeks are already coloring from crying, so I don’t have to worry about blushing. Because I hate to admit that I sleep better with Dom at my side. Or draped across me.
And the orgasm probably didn’t hurt.
CHAPTER 38
Dom
I start to lower the lid of my laptop.
It’s not often that my conscience springs to life, but watching Valentine cry while talking to her therapist about feeling like she doesn’t belong is starting to make me feel guilty.
“… been working on finding sexual completion with a partner?”
I lift the lid back up.
Come again?
Val nods and presses her hands against her cheeks.
I fucking love it when she does that.
“Kind of.”
“Kind of?” the doctor asks.
Yeah, Valentine, just kind of?
“Yes,” my wife admits.
“Is this with the man you met on the plane?”
I lean closer. She told her therapist about me?
Val nods, dropping her hands.
“Has it happened every time?” the doctor asks.
Tell us, Angel. Have I made you come every time?
Val nods again.
The doctor keeps going. “What made the difference?”
Say my big dick.
“I think it’s like you said,” Val answers.
And what did the good doctor say?
“Trust?” the doc clarifies.
“Yes.” Valentine’s answer is a whisper. But I hear it in my soul.
“Trust makes a huge difference in learning to let go with a partner,” the doctor says, like it’s simple. Like trust between two people is something that happens every day. “Does this have anything to do with those tattoos I saw on your hand?”
“Yeah.” Val huffs. “I got drunk and married the guy.”
“Good.”
I can’t see the laptop screen, so I can’t see the therapist. But I can hear her smile.
“Good?” Val presses her hands to her cheeks again. “It’s been less than two months since we first met.”
“Time isn’t the defining factor of a relationship,” the doctor counters. “And you just said you have trust.”
I watch Val’s expression slip. “I trusted him.”
Trusted.
Past tense.
I lean even closer to the screen.
“Trust and love mean more than time.”
My wife’s lips part.
Is she going to admit she doesn’t love me?
She hesitates.
Or is it possible that she might? Even after everything I’ve done.
“I…” Val starts.
The front door unlocking cuts through what Val’s about to say, and I slam the laptop lid closed.
There’s only one person it can be, but I still pull the gun from the holster at the small of my back as I stride across the room.
The door swings open, and Rob steps into the condo.
Rob is my second cousin, as well as my second in command. He’s not quite as tall as I am, but he’s spent more time in the gym than most people I know, so you know he’s a formidable opponent before his first punch.
He makes it a few feet before he sees me. The gun in my hand halts him in place. “What happened?”
“My wife lives here now. You won’t just let yourself in again.”