To Have and to Hold

Today, when I went to his office, he acted unfazed, which was unusual, since he can always sense my tension—and especially my insecure jealousy. But maybe he doesn’t see her as a threat.

Maybe it really is all in my head?

Am I going mad? Insane?

Making up a whole story in my mind to make sense of why I feel my husband no longer wants me.

Gideon has never stated he doesn’t want me, never even hinted it. In fact, he reminds me daily how much he loves me and wants me. Yet, here I am, all the facts and proof laid out in front of me, and I am still trying to make an excuse for why I’m sabotaging us.

“Daddy! You’re home early!” Lilac pulls me from my dark thoughts, and I see her running to Gideon where he stands in the kitchen. It’s only 3:20 p.m., which is way early for him to be home. I start to worry.

“Did something happen? Is everything at the office okay?” I stand, Gideon Jr. running around me to greet his father. Giving them each attention with hugs and kisses to the head, he encourages them to go to their rooms for a moment so “Mommy and Daddy can talk.”

My stomach drops. What is going to happen? Our children do what he said, talking about some toys they can play with, and their footfalls disappear up the stairs. I stay stuck to the spot, my heart going a mile a minute. Gideon doesn’t move either. Staying planted where he is, his hands in his work slacks, his expensive Rolex catching the light from the sun coming through the window. It catches my attention, and then he speaks.

“Come here, baby. Right now,” he orders in a low rumble. I do just that, as if controlled by his voice. Each step feels heavy and daunting. When I get to him, he takes his middle and pointer fingers of his right hand and motions me to come closer. I take the last two steps, and by doing this, we are now just a hairsbreadth away from one another. Now that I’m within his reach, he takes my hips and effortlessly places me on the counter, caging me in. He places his balled-up fists on each side of me, and I gulp. Smelling his cologne and having him so close when I feel so goddamn insecure is overwhelming me.

“You don’t think I noticed my woman wasn’t happy with me?” he asks.

“What?” I question, startled, because it was like he read my mind when he wasn’t even here, as if my thoughts had been telepathic, travelling straight to him, calling him home to me.

“Scarlett, don’t play. I want my wife to talk to me. What was wrong at the office? You were not in a good mood, and I felt it.”

I was wrong. He did know. Gideon still knows me, and that sparks hope inside me.

“It’s nothing. It’s just me being crazy.” I try to brush it off, unsure if I’m ready to have this conversation.

“Was it her? You don’t like my new receptionist?”

Bingo. Again, just like he is actually in my head, he guesses it on the first try, and I now have an out. Looking down, I wring my hands.

“Don’t hide from me, Scar. It’s me. I’m your husband. Your best friend. Is it the receptionist?”

I don’t miss the way he doesn’t say her name. Which makes me open up a little bit more. “Yes. I’m afraid of her,” I admit.

He kisses my forehead, letting his lips linger there, and he releases a deep breath. “I can sit here and tell you I love you and would never let her interfere, but that’s not the man I am nor the husband I promised to be. If she makes you afraid, I will fire her.”

“Gideon, no!” I rush out, grabbing his hips and looking into his eyes, instant guilt filling the pit of my stomach. “You need the help, and no matter how jealous I get or how much we seem to be falling apart, I know you won’t cheat,” I tell him, trying to convince myself with my words more than anything else.

“Never.” One word—a strong declaration. It’s almost terrifying.

“Just forget today. Okay, I’m sorry I worried you and made you come home because of it. You can go back. I’m fine,” I lie, imploring him to believe what is not true. I want him home; the idea of him going back there with her makes me ill.

“No, I don’t want to be there. Here with you is where I need and want to be. Working on us.”

“There’s nothing to work on here.” I shrug, trying to come across nonchalant, but he sees right through me.

“Yes, there is. You and I have grown so far apart it’s causing me to go mad. You’re driving me insane,” he confesses, and I feel a tinge of guilt.