“Roman! She hated you yesterday, and I swear to God she just came from that whole hand-in-the-hair bit.” She wrapped both hands in the front of my shirt and shook me. “Oh my God! You’re gonna get Elisabeth back!”
I barked a laugh of relief. “I’m sure as hell gonna try,” I told her.
She squealed, jumping into my arms like we were kids again.
Movement outside the front window caught my attention. Elisabeth’s feet swayed back and forth in the porch swing, Jon’s right beside her, which reminded me that we had a long way to go before we could celebrate anything.
“Okay, stop.” I used her shoulders to shift her off me. “I need you to fill me in on everything about his guy so I know what I’m up against.”
“Who? Jon?”
“No, the other man sitting on a swing I hung in a house that I bought and doing it all while sitting next to my wife.”
She attempted a glare, but her smile was too wide to give it any heat.
She headed toward the fridge and pulled two beers out, passing me one before starting. “Okay, so Jon…”
Two beers later, I was sitting on the corner of the island when Elisabeth came back inside carrying a plastic bag filled with to-go boxes.
She lifted them in the air, saying, “I decided to save Seth from certain death.”
“That son of a bitch,” Kristen cursed.
I chuckled, tipping the beer to my lips and hopping down to meet her.
She passed the bags off to me, but her eyes never met mine as she headed straight for the glass of wine I had waiting for her on the counter.
“Soooo, how’s Jon?” Kristen asked.
“He’s good,” she replied between gulps of her Chardonnay, not looking at either of us.
“Everything okay?” Kristen pushed.
“Yep,” Elisabeth answered curtly, going to work on removing the boxes from the bags I’d set on the counter. She robotically opened each before closing it and sliding it down the counter to make room for the next. Once they were all laid out, she opened the cabinet above her and retrieved two plates.
Two.
Not three.
Two.
I felt Kristen’s gaze cut to me, but I was studiously watching Elisabeth’s back as she removed gyros from their boxes and delicately placed them on the blue, floral plates we’d received as a wedding gift. After she got every fry in place, she set one beside Kristen and the other beside me. Then she finally lifted her gaze.
I flinched when I got a look at the pain etched into her face. It was a look I knew well—defeat.
Shit. Maybe Kristen was wrong and this Jon guy actually means something to Elisabeth.
“Lissy,” I breathed, reaching out to her.
She took a step away and aimed her eyes at the floor. “Y’all go ahead and eat. Just let yourself out whenever you’re done. I’m gonna call it a night.”
“Elisabeth,” Kristen called, but she only lifted a hand in a wave and rushed from the room.
I moved to follow her but stopped at the foot of the stairs as she disappeared up to the top.
“What the hell was that?” Kristen asked after we’d both heard the bedroom door quietly close.
I raked a hand through the top of my hair. “No clue. You’re sure about this Jon guy?”
“Positive. No way that’s about him.” Kristen appeared at my side, offering one of the plates of food my way. “Here. Go after her. I’ll let the dog in and lock up.”
I nodded, but my feet remained stuck. That expression on Elisabeth’s face had been like a knife from the past, gutting me all over again. She had worn that look of heartbreaking despondency every time I’d seen her after Tripp died. Back then, I didn’t know how to fix it. I thought that, if I could give her another baby, maybe, just maybe, I could make it all go away and bring the vibrant woman who’d stolen my heart back.
I physically couldn’t do it. Fertility just wasn’t on my side.
And it killed me that I wasn’t financially able to do it either. I was a soldier who had gotten out of the military with hopes and dreams of starting my own consulting firm. But hopes and dreams wouldn’t give us a baby. For that, I needed cold, hard cash.
So I went to work. All day. All night. Busting my ass so I could offer her the world.
Only, in the process, I lost it all.
And, in my stupidity, she lost it all, too.
Money fixed exactly zero of my problems. I could buy anything I wanted.
Except her.
Never her.
“Roman,” Kristen hissed, taking my hand and wrapping it around the edge of the plate. “Go!”
I closed my eyes, sucked in a breath, and did what I should have done years earlier.
I walked up the stairs to save my wife—and our family.
Only I didn’t make it far.
A man greeted me at the top of the stairway.
“Fuck!” I yelled, my hands immediately going up in defense, french fries flying everywhere. I caught the plate at the last second as my eyes adjusted and I recognized the man.
Me.
“Fucking shit!” I shouted, taking in the floor-to-ceiling mirror that covered the entirety of the wall, including the one beside it that ran parallel to the two bedroom doors on one side of the landing.