Buttons and Blame (Buttons 5)

“Crow, this is hard for me. But I understand why you feel this way.”

She’d better.

“I just don’t like being told what to do.”

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy telling her what to do. “If we make these decisions together, I won’t have to tell you what to do. That’s the only way this is going to work.”

“Okay…”

“Will you promise to do as I ask?”

“Why do I have to promise?”

“Because that’s the only way I can trust you.”

She grabbed her glass and took another big drink of wine. “Fine, I promise.”

“Promise what, exactly?”

“I promise I won’t leave the house without telling you.”

“And?”

“I promise I won’t put myself in harm’s way.”

“And you need to promise me that you won’t put yourself in danger to save someone else—anyone else.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“You almost died when you took Cane’s place. You could have been captured when you spoke to Tristan. This is a pattern for you. Putting yourself in danger like that isn’t being brave—it’s being stupid. No more, Button.”

“What if you’re the one in danger?”

“Doesn’t change anything.” If I were captured and they would only release me if Button took my place, she’d better not do it. My life was worthless. Death didn’t scare me. Living had always been far more difficult anyway. I would much rather leave my legacy to Button, to let her live a long and happy life.

“Yes, it does.”

“I’d rather be tortured to death than let anyone touch you. Now, promise me.”

She wouldn’t.

“Button,” I pressed.

“I can promise not to put myself in danger for anyone else. But not for you.”

I slammed both of my fists on the table and made all the dishes clank against the surface. “If you die, then I’m dead anyway.”

“And you don’t think I feel the same way?”

“If you did, you wouldn’t have walked into Tristan’s lair.”

She sighed and looked down.

“Now, promise me.”

“I just want my husband back…”

“Then do what I ask. After all the shit you’ve put me through, you owe me.”

“I owe you?” she hissed.

“Yes. You fucking owe me. Now, promise me.” I slammed my hands on the table again.

Her wineglass tipped over and shattered on the patio.

She didn’t react to the sharp sound, her eyes focused on me.

“Button.”

“Fine…I promise.”

Finally, I got what I wanted. I got what I needed. Now I didn’t need to worry about her carelessness. If she went anywhere, she would tell me about it. She would work with me to do what she wanted in the safest way possible. She finally accepted she couldn’t walk under the sun without looking over her shoulder. She finally promised she wouldn’t ever risk her life again.

I could finally sleep at night.

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared down at the table. Her breathing was slowly increasing, and the redness was moving into her cheeks. She was mad, she was emotional, she was everything all at once.

I knew she’d hit her limit.

I scooted my chair back from the table then patted my thigh. “Button.”

She was out of her chair before I finished saying her name. She moved into my lap and circled her arms around my neck. Her face pressed into my chest. Her breathing escalated further until the tears broke the surface.

She cried in my arms.

I adjusted her on my lap and held her closer against me, letting her pour out her emotions and feeling them soak into my t-shirt. She wasn’t the kind of woman who cried, so her tears had heightened significance.

“I’m sorry…”

Those two simple words were enough to make me drop all my anger, all my resentment. She was given a blank slate, and like the incident had never happened, the only thing I felt for her was love. “I know.” I kissed her forehead, cherishing her the way she deserved. I’d ignored her for nearly two weeks, and I missed this affection as much as she did.

Lars stepped outside, ready to take our plates and refill our glasses. But the second he saw Button crying into my chest, he abruptly walked back into the house and tried to pretend he hadn’t been there in the first place.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Button.” I kissed her forehead again because that was the only skin I could reach. I felt her shake in my arms, felt her weep into me.

“I want to go to bed…”

I lifted her from the chair and carried her right against my chest. One arm rested behind her knees while the other was scooped behind her shoulders. She kept her face pressed to my chest as her arms remained around my neck.

I walked inside and headed for the staircase, listening to her quiet sniffles.

Lars appeared out of the kitchen. “Would you like me to save your dinner for later, Your Grace?”

“No thank you.” I walked up the stairs, my wife like a bag of feathers in my arms. “We won’t be eating tonight.” I carried her to the third floor and then into the bedroom I hadn’t been sleeping in. The place smelled distinctly like her now, most of my clothes and toiletries gone. Now her perfume, belongings, and clothes filled the space I once occupied.