Buttons and Blame (Buttons 5)

“That’s not what I said.”

“You’re right, it’s not. But it’s what you proved to me when you risked everything for her.” He turned around and rubbed his hand over the scruff of his jaw. His back rose and fell at a rapid pace as he did his best to control his rage. “Get out, Pearl. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“You can’t just ignore me again.”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want.” He turned around, looking more livid than he did before. “If you don’t want to get slapped, you should leave.”

“Don’t talk to me that way.”

“Then don’t betray me,” he snarled. “I don’t ask for much, Pearl.”

“You owe me an apology.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I owe you an apology?” He tilted his head slightly. “Are you insane?”

“You shouldn’t have hit me like that.”

For just an instant, his eyes softened. But his furious look returned so quickly I wasn’t sure if I saw it in the first place. “You don’t respect our marriage. So why should I?”

“Crow, I didn’t do it because of us. I did because of this poor woman—”

“Then you need to put us first. It’s that simple. I’m your husband. I should always be at the top of your damn list.” He yanked his belt out of his loops then tossed it on the floor. “Get out. I don’t want to look at you right now.”

“Crow—”

He grabbed me by the neck and squeezed. His grip was tight, but I could still breathe. “Get. Out.” He dropped his hand and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door just for my benefit.

Once the shower turned on, I let the moisture in my eyes turn into drops. I let the tears flood my cheeks, succumbing to the heartbreak.

* * *

It seemed as if things were worse now than before.

I was sorry for hurting him, for causing him the kind of pain he described, but I couldn’t apologize for being who I was. It wasn’t in my nature to stand by and do nothing while an innocent person suffered. I couldn’t stop until I tried every single outlet. If Crow and Cane had given up on me easily, then I wouldn’t be alive right now.

I wish he understood that.

It was another night of bad sleep. I wondered if Crow was sleeping any better. He’d been an insomniac before I came around, usually drinking scotch until he passed out from the liquor.

I didn’t want him to go back to that.

He had his breakfast in the dining room, the same place we used to have breakfast together every morning. Lars had been bringing my tray directly to my room, and I ate on the terrace.

But today, I walked into the dining room.

Crow was in his crisp suit and tie, the newspaper open in front of him. He was eating the same thing he always ate, egg whites with asparagus. He took his coffee black, dark just like him. He barely lifted his gaze when I walked inside. He took one look at me, seemed bored, and then returned his gaze to his newspaper.

I wasn’t there to fight. I was there to take a step in the right direction. Despite his coldness and cruelty, I loved him so much it hurt. A life without him was one I couldn’t contemplate. It would be the same as it was when I was back in Manhattan—empty of all feeling. “I going to go to Cane’s place today and spend some time with Adelina. Do you have a problem with that?” It actually hurt my mouth to say the words, to ask for permission when I shouldn’t have to ask for anything. But these actions would mean a lot more to him than an apology.

His eyes darted up from the newspaper, and he stared at me with a different gaze. It wasn’t cold. It wasn’t cruel. It resembled the same look he used to give me every single day. “No, I don’t have a problem with that.” He was finished speaking, but he didn’t turn his eyes back to the newspaper. His stare was reserved for me.

I missed that stare so much.

“Can I take one of the cars? Or would you rather drop me off?” These questions weren’t as difficult to ask. When I gave him what he wanted, he responded positively. He was more handsome when he didn’t look so fierce.

Both of his arms were resting on the table, his silver cuff links exposed and shiny. His tie was yellow that morning, bright in comparison to his dark suit. His hair was combed neatly, but he still hadn’t shaved. His facial hair was coming in thick, thicker than I’d ever seen it. “I’ll drive you. But I’d rather have the two of you at the winery. Do you have a problem with that?”

Instead of making a cold demand and expecting me to follow it blindly, he met me halfway. When I gave him what he wanted, he gave me what I wanted in return. I couldn’t complain. “No.”