Page 14 of It Hurts Me
“Then take me with you.”
“Astrid, you know I can’t do that.”
“We’ve only been married two years, and you want to sleep with other people?”
He closed his eyes briefly like my reaction was annoying. “Forget I said anything.”
“You’re just going to fuck someone anyway.”
“Astrid, I wouldn’t have even brought this up to you if that were my intention. I would just be cheating on you every time I was gone. I haven’t done that. I only thought having our own private lives would be beneficial for us both.”
“I’m not sure what hurts more.” I kept my voice steady, but deep inside, there was a dam of tears ready to explode. “The fact that you want to fuck other people…or the fact that you don’t care about another man fucking me.”
“It’s not that I don’t care?—”
“If you’re encouraging me to do it, then you don’t care.”
“I’d rather not think about it, to be honest. And I’m sure you don’t want to think about it either.”
“I admit our sex life isn’t what it used to be, but I’m happy to try new things, go to therapy, work on our relationship, do whatever is necessary for the sake of this marriage. I don’t think inviting other people into it is the solution. I don’t understand where this is coming from because last time we spoke, you said you wanted to start a family. Who says they want to start a family, then a week later asks to fuck other people?”
“Why does it have to be mutually exclusive?” he asked calmly. “Just because I fuck some other woman doesn’t mean you aren’t the woman I love with my whole heart. Doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be the mother of my children. Everything I feel for you is still true.”
I shook my head because I was appalled by his reasoning. “I’m not going to raise your kids while you’re off fucking some woman you met in a bar. If you have that much free time, then you don’t need to be gone so long.”
He sank into the chair, looking defeated. “Astrid, forget I said anything.”
“This is not something I can forget, Bolton. It’s not something I can forgive either.” I shoved my chair back until it knocked over, and I stormed from the table. I walked to the entryway and slipped on the flats I’d left there. It had started to rain, so I grabbed my coat and prepared to yank the door so hard it flew off its hinges.
Bolton placed his body in front of it. “You need to calm down.”
“Get out of my way, or I’ll move you.”
His blue eyes watched me with a look of hurt. “If you need some space, I’ll leave.”
“So you can pick up some pretty girl in a bar?” I asked viciously.
He leaned against the door with his weight, so there was no way I’d get past him. “Astrid, forget what I said. It was just a suggestion, and it’s fine if you don’t like it. The last thing I want is to lose you.” He said it with such sincerity, such depth with his blue eyes. “It’s the very last thing I want.”
I was still angry, so fucking angry, but his words sheathed some of that anger.
He continued to watch me as the air left my balloon of rage, his eyes shifting back and forth.
I turned away from the door, kicked off my flats, and headed upstairs.
He didn’t follow me.
Days passed. Even though he was home, we didn’t spend time together.
I was too angry.
He gave me my space. We didn’t share meals together. We didn’t sit on the couch together. I slept in the primary suite, and he took a guest room. Time went by, and slowly, the boiling anger turned to a simmer.
I wasn’t sure what to do, but I knew we had to talk about it.
He sat in his study working on his laptop, the hearth warm with a fire that lit up the dark room. For a hit man, he did a lot of paperwork, and I didn’t understand what he did on that computer.
I walked inside, and it took him a moment to notice me.