But she didn’t know the whys of my decisions back then—the same whys that had led me to make the decisions that had ultimately ruined us.
“When I met you, my entire world changed in one night. You were the best thing that had ever happened to me. But Leblanc Consulting wasn’t going to enable me to give you everything I wanted to. I literally went from the bachelor life to a family man over night. You needed insurance, food, a house, and clothes. So I sold the building, took that entry-level corporate job in the city, put down a chunk of money on this house, finally bought you a diamond a quarter the size of the one I wanted, and then I made a life with you.”
Betrayal sparkled in her deep-green eyes. “You told me you wanted that job in the city. You told me Leblanc Consulting was failing and you needed an out.”
“I needed you to be happy.”
“What?” Her voice broke as though I’d maimed her.
I quickly assured, “And I have never once regretted that decision. Because part of me giving you those things that made you happy made me happy. Watching you fall asleep with a smile on your face in a life I made for us was the most gratifying thing I’d ever done.”
She stared at me in disbelief, her head shaking as she said, “Roman, I wasn’t falling asleep with a smile on my face because of the life you made for us. I was falling asleep with a smile on my face because I was doing it next to you.”
“Right. And I got that even back then, baby. But, for a man, it’s different. I can’t expect you to understand, but I’m asking you to accept it. For a man, success is measured by your ability to provide a good life for your family. It doesn’t have to be money, just a quality of life where your wife can fall asleep with a smile and doing it saying she’s happy just to be doing it with you.”
I thought she understood what I was saying when she stared at me for several beats without a response.
This was Elisabeth though.
I should have known better.
“Yeah. That makes no sense,” she said. “This is why men get a bad rap. Y’all do stupid shit then try to justify it by saying crap like, ‘For a man, it’s different.’ Sorry to be the one to break it to you, but if a man is kind, loving, respectful, makes a woman laugh, knows how to open the pickle jar, and change a flat tire, we really don’t need much else. If I needed insurance, food, a house, or clothes, I would get off my ass, get a job, and get that stuff myself. What I can’t get on my own is a good, kind, loving, respectful man who makes me laugh, knows how to open a pickle jar, and change a flat tire.” She glared at me with an arched eyebrow.
I grinned and added. “With a huge cock.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt. But I could still make do if you didn’t.”
I threw my head back and laughed. God, I’d missed her.
Her fingers traced over my abs as she giggled right along with me.
When I finally sobered, I pressed a closed-mouth, but no less deep, kiss to her smart-ass mouth. Then I got serious again.
I didn’t want to do it.
What I really wanted to do was take a shower, drink a fucking beer, eat a homemade burger that was currently getting cold, then go to bed and make love to my wife before she fell asleep with a smile on her face, content to be doing it next to me.
But, again…I had minutes.
And years to make up for.
Palming each side of her face, I tipped my forehead to hers and got to it. “Lis, I spent my whole life thinking that, if you wanted something, you work hard and make it happen. And then, one day, I had to face the harsh reality that some things were out of my reach no matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t give you a family, and it was the first time I ever felt like I’d failed you.”
“Roman,” she gasped, but I kept talking.
“It was a such a basic biological function, and I just couldn’t do it. Do you have any idea how hard it was as a man to, month after month, watch the woman you wanted to give the world fall apart over pregnancy tests that just wouldn’t turn positive? And then the miscarriages.” I cleared my throat when a thick, gritty knot took up root.
“Roman,” she breathed regretfully. “We both—”
“No, let me say this. It’s been too long.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she closed her mouth and gave me a short nod.
I sucked in a breath and let five years of pent-up anxiety fly. “That fucking roller coaster of euphoria when you finally got pregnant, the constant nerves during those first few weeks, then the crash down into utter devastation when you’d start bleeding. Jesus, Lis. It destroyed me. I know it killed you too, but you were stronger than I was. You always got back up and wanted to try again. You have no idea how many times I wanted to tell you no. I couldn’t handle it. I wanted it to stop so we could just go back to being us—being happy. But then I’d see that glimmer of hope in your eyes. So I’d pull my shit together and set about giving you the world, regardless that it was shredding me.”