Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
I smile weakly before looking back at my plate. I only had that money to invest because I was working so much back then. Working and neglecting my hus—
“Welp, I hate to eat and run, but the new season of Lucifer was just released on Netflix, and I have a night of binge-watching ahead of me,” Bram says, thankfully interrupting my thoughts. But at the same time, I dread his departure, because Roman will want me to fill him in on my appointment with Doc. Plus, I miss watching our shows together in our cramped little living room of our old apartment. Back when there wasn’t this cloud that seemed to hover over me and I didn’t have a care in the world except for making sure the bills were paid.
Bram takes his plate to the sink, rinses it off, and then sticks it in the dishwasher, coming over to playfully shake my messy bun on top of my head before heading to the front door. “Thanks for dinner, you two. As always.”
“Welcome,” Roman and I call out before we hear the door close behind him.
I close my eyes in defeat when the first words out of my husband’s mouth are “So what did Doc say?”
I wipe my mouth with a napkin, staring at the orange color left behind on the white paper and wondering where to begin.
“Savannah, please tell me. I’ve been worried about you all day,” he pleads with me, and my eyes lift to his. His brows are furrowed over his beautiful brown eyes, anxiousness written all over his tan face. It’s then I notice his dark hair isn’t neatly gelled into place as usual, as if he’s been running his hands through it frequently for hours. He’s got a bit of puffiness beneath his bottom lashes, like he didn’t sleep well last night, and his top three buttons of his dress shirt are already undone. Normally, that doesn’t happen until after dinner, when he undresses for his nightly shower.
“It went well. He… he wants us to do couple’s counseling. Said he thinks it would really help,” I say quietly, half hoping Roman will say no, because if not, there won’t be any way to avoid learning every detail of his affair. Not with Doc there, pulling the cold-hard truth out of him, truths I’d rather hide my head in the sand than hear, since once they’re heard, they can’t be unheard.
But being the amazing man he’s always been—aside from that one fuck-up—he nods. “Of course.” He takes hold of my hand. “Baby, of course I’ll go to counseling with you. I’ll do anything to make things right. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust. To make you happy again.”
“I am happy,” I reply, and I sound unconvincing even to my own ears. I scold myself internally. I’m usually much better at pushing everything that happened to the back of my mind, pretending it never occurred. I’m having an off day, obviously because Doc made me relive that night and recall everything in all its gory detail.
“When does he want us to come in?” Roman asks, looking as if he’d grab the keys and drive there right this second if that’s what Doc wanted. What I wanted.
This, I think. This is one of the reasons I couldn’t just give up on him. On us.
There’s never been another man who loves me as much as Roman Broussard does. He loves me fiercely, the kind of love they wrote about in legends of the gods.
And yet he is only human.
Who has made very human mistakes.
Which is why I didn’t leave.
Because I love him just as madly.
It’s the trust part I so desperately need help finding again. I’ve searched for ways on my own, but it just… hasn’t… worked. It was clear for Doc to see that, and since it’s part of the contract for membership, somewhere in the fine print, that if ever he felt something was off within a Dom and sub’s dynamic inside the club, he could call them in for a checkup. That’s one of the reasons Club Alias is so much better than any other BDSM club out there. They do everything within their power to make it a safe place to practice dominance and submission, and they require permission to step in even when the couple is married.
“He set an appointment for the day after tomorrow. He said either we can go together, or if you didn’t agree, he still wanted me to come back,” I tell him, and Roman pulls out his phone.
I catch myself trying to see his screen, and I jerk my head away, shaking it in disappointment at myself as I stand with my plate.
Roman looks up at me, nothing but understanding on his face as he tilts the screen up toward me. “See, baby? Got the date pulled up in my calendar. What time should I be there?”