Damn it.
I’d made an unofficial promise to myself that I wouldn’t bring that up. We would have to discuss it, sometime, but it was more about me and him than just him, and right now, he had to concentrate on himself.
Plus, I wasn’t ready to hear whether or not he planned to make good on that threat.
“I did say that.” He looked down at our still-joined hands. “I’m sorry, Sophie. It would be so easy for me to make an excuse—”
“Don’t. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” I said quickly.
“If you’re not ready to forgive me, I understand.” He laughed softly. “Forgiveness has been a big theme in therapy, these days.”
“It’s not that.” I squeezed his hand. “I’m not angry with you. I hope you don’t plan on following through with it—”
“No, no,” he interrupted, lifting one hand to cup my cheek. “Never.”
Despite every in
tention I’d had of staying strong, I leaned into his touch and closed my eyes. I struggled to control my voice. “I just want you to get better. We can worry about everything else later.”
“You say that a lot.” His gentle admonishment opened my eyes. “And I’ve let myself take advantage of it for too long. I haven’t been a good husband to you, Sophie.”
“You’ve been sick.” It wasn’t fair to hold that against him, but I would need therapy of my own to get past my anger toward him. He didn’t need to know that, now. He needed my support.
He nodded and dropped his hand awkwardly to his side. “This is all… Doctor Harris thinks we should go back to couple’s therapy after this.”
“Doctor Harris is a smart guy,” I agreed.
And, somehow, like that, Neil and I were both smiling.
I’d thought it would take forever. Hours of heartfelt conversation, months, possibly years of rebuilding from scratch. Learning to love each other, all over again.
But I’d never stopped loving him, and he’d never stopped loving me. Unpleasant things had gotten in the way, but they were hurdles, not walls.
“This room is depressing,” he announced suddenly. “Would you like to take a walk?”
“Can we?” I looked around for hidden cameras or something.
“Yes, it’s allowed.” He grimaced. “Finding a hidden nook somewhere for hidden nookie, however…”
“Abstinence is the best medicine?” I joked. “It wasn’t like you had much of a sex drive before you came in here.”
“You’d be surprised how quickly that all comes back online when you have a will to live, again. The need to procreate comes rushing back with some sort of primordial vengeance.” He sounded as tense as he would have sounded if he’d been deprived of sex for weeks, a year ago.
“Well, don’t think you’re going to be procreating with me. One baby in the house is enough,” I warned him.
“I can’t procreate, anyway,” he reminded me. “But I’d certainly like to give the process a go.”
“I’ll brace myself for when you come home.”
We walked into the hall, silent for a few steps as he led the way.
“You are planning on coming home, eventually, aren’t you?” I asked, my stomach suddenly a jumble of nerves. “This isn’t a…permanent thing?”
“No, of course not,” he reassured me. “Sophie, I’m getting better, but I’m certainly not happy here.” He halted me outside of a pair of large dark wood doors with gleaming brass handles. “Just through there is a dining hall where I eat very expensive, very bland meals. Apparently, they believe you lose your sense of taste when you’re mentally ill.” He led me farther down the hall and gestured to another set of doors. “Through there are the rooms we sleep in. I can’t show you those, but I can tell you that the twin mattress is too hard and far too narrow. I go to sleep in an icebox that turns into a furnace at three in the morning, and there is no one in bed beside me when I wake.”
“It would be weird if there was,” I quipped. “And it sounds like it would be hot. And crowded.”
“I’m not joking,” he said, suddenly very serious. “I can’t stand being without you. That’s why I’m doing whatever I can to get back to you.”