Mulberry’s gaze meets mine for a moment and then he turns away again, giving me his broad back. The T-shirt he’s wearing is tight and I can see the hard lines of his shoulders underneath.
Mulberry always gets cut when he’s going through a difficult period…usually brought on by his frustrations with me. “I understand I’m hard to love,” I say.
Mulberry snorts and shakes his head. “That’s not it,” he says. “You’re too easy to love.” He turns back to me, a sad smile on his lips. “I’d give anything for you to care about me the way I care about you. All I want in life, Sydney, is you.”
The words steal my breath. We stare at each other. His fists are balled, arm muscles tight, his jaw clenched. “I think it’s an idea of me,” I say slowly. “Because if you want me, just as I am, then you’d understand that I can love both you and Robert. That I’m not a normal person. I’m not like…” I stop because I don’t know what I’m not like. I just know… “I want what I want, Mulberry. And if all you wanted was me, the real me, then you’d want that too…for me.”
I can’t believe those words just came out of my mouth. And from the look on Mulberry’s face, he can’t either. But it’s true. And it’s at the crux of our relationship’s fucked-upness. Mulberry is always trying to save me from myself. But I don’t want to be saved. I want to be loved. For all of me.
Tears spring into my eyes. “I’m sorry,” Mulberry says, closing the space between us in two ground-eating strides. He wraps me in his arms and I’m enveloped in the familiar darkness that is my face against his chest. “I’m so sorry,” he says, his breath hot on my hair.
The tears come, and they don’t give details as to why. It’s just a whirlwind of ache and swollen pain. A sob racks through me and my fingers tighten in his shirt, twisting the soft material so that my knuckles press into his muscles. “You’re right,” he says. “You’re so right. I’m…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. He just holds me as the storm rages, settles, and finally leaves. I pull back and he lets me go.
“Here.” Mulberry reaches over and grabs a box of tissues from the bedside table. His arms still around me, he rips one free and passes it to me before throwing them back to the table and getting his hands back to my body—like he’s afraid if he lets go, I’ll disappear.
I snuffle my face into the tissue, blow my nose, swipe at my swollen eyes. “I’m fine,” I say, because that’s the kind of thing that pops out of my mouth after sobbing uncontrollably after waking up from a coma. It’s true though. Tears don’t mean you’re broken. I blow my nose again, still not looking up at him.
“I get it,” Mulberry says. “I hear you.”
My gaze rises to his and I find him there—his hazel eyes sad but true. We don’t speak for a long moment. I don’t know what we are waiting for but it feels like something is coming. A new beginning…or a final end.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“Sydney.” Robert’s voice sounds the same—deep and calm. As if he expected my call. “It’s been too long.”
“I have an excellent excuse.” I’m standing by my window looking out at the night sky—it’s clear and moonless so the stars are putting on a display that planetariums would envy.
“I’m listening,” Robert says.
“I’ve been in a coma. Lasted a month. Really kept me off my phone.” I laugh nervously. Which is awkward as fuck. “I’m fine and so is the baby.”
“What?” Robert’s voice does that simmering rage thing it does sometimes. It scares and excites me. I’m so twisted.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Doctor isn’t sure what happened. But I’m awake now. Weak, but I’ll get back to myself soon. I’m standing up.” I glance down at myself. Blue, sitting next to me, looks up, his mismatched eyes assuring me that I am, in fact, vertical. Excellent.
“You’re still on the island?” Robert asks.
“Yeah, like I said, I went into a coma.”
“This is not a part of our agreement, Sydney.”
“Month-long comas? No, I guess not. If I’d faked it, would that have been better?” I ask, getting feisty now.
“How do I know you’re not lying?”
“Not my style,” I say. Blue taps his nose against my hip as if he knows that was a lie. Maury Povich over here in dog form.
“You’re afraid of what happened between us.”
“I don’t think that’s what caused the coma. I’ve been afraid of a lot of things, Robert.” I’m getting pissed now. “You want to make my coma about you? Really?”
“You can’t just disappear like that, Sydney, not without consequences.”
“Do you hear yourself right now? I’m eight months pregnant. I just woke up from a coma and you’re telling me about consequences from not calling? Get a fucking life, you asshole.” He chuckles. The motherfucker chuckles. “Fuck off,” I say and disconnect the call before he can respond.
My legs are shaking, so I make my way back to the bed. As I sit on the edge, my phone vibrates in my hand. It’s Robert. I don’t want to pick up but don’t want to deal with the consequences of not picking up. “What?” I answer.
“I want you back here immediately.” His request sounds almost casual except for the subtle threat behind it.
“I want you to pull your head out of your ass. We can’t all get what we want when we want it.”
“Is this about me always winning?” He sounds condescending now.
“This isn’t actually about you at all!” I’m yelling. Great. Blue rests his head on my knee, settling me a little but I’m still breathing hard.
“My wife disappearing for a month is about me.” Robert’s voice has a new edge—raw steel wrapped in silk. “You are due very soon. You must return to me.”
“Oh, must I?” He sighs. “Really? I must?”
“I know the location of the island, Sydney. I have a team en route.”
“You what?” It’s my turn for the simmering rage.
“I didn’t know where you were. You must have known I would find you. That your lack of communication would drive me to this. I texted you multiple times.”
“Call them off.”
