Rebound: Chapter 21

Sitting in the den, full of turkey, surrounded by most of my family—my dad and my brothers, Mel, Amelia, and Luke, and Tyler and Ashley, Mel’s cousin and sister who’ve become as much a part of our family as she has—I should feel nothing but joy. So why is that not the case?

I’ve spent every Thanksgiving of my life with my family, and Amber hasn’t been to a Thanksgiving here in well over a decade. So why the fuck does it bother me that she’s once again spending the holiday with her friends instead of me? I don’t understand why I miss her so much. Why I can’t stop thinking about her.

When we went around the table and shared what we were thankful for at dinner, I gave my usual answer—my family. In my mind, that’s always included her, but tonight, she was the first person who popped into my head. I am most thankful for this second chance we’re getting, no matter how long it lasts. But I couldn’t say that aloud.

Nathan hands me a Scotch. “At least we don’t have to worry that Amber might show up tonight, huh?” He laughs and Mason joins in.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I try to keep my tone even, but inside I’m already burning up with anger.

“Mase and I used to make a pact every year—if she showed up and ruined our Thanksgiving, we said we’d pretend to have the stomach flu and go drink Scotch in the wine cellar. This is the first year we haven’t had to make it.” He says it so casually, like he’s not talking about my damn wife.

I scowl at him and Mason, my jaw clenched tight. “Are you fucking serious?”

Mason at least has the good grace to look contrite. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. It was a joke. Of course we’d never actually fake having the stomach flu.”

I jump up from my chair, ignoring Nathan’s outstretched hand and the offer of a good Scotch. “Jokes are supposed to be funny, assholes. That’s my fucking wife you’re talking about.” I look to my dad and my other brothers. “Did you all feel like this?”

Drake instantly declares that he didn’t, Maddox reminds me this is his only his second Thanksgiving in years, and Dad simply shrugs noncommittally.

“Jesus Christ. It’s no wonder she never wanted to be around any of you.”

“Hey,” Nathan says, frowning. “This started long after Amber froze us out.”

Stepping away from him, I take a calming breath before I say something I regret. Is this how she feels when she’s around them? Belittled? Like she’s someone to avoid at all costs?

“It really was just a joke, Elijah,” Mason says, sounding apologetic.

I shake my head, swallowing down the anger burning in my throat. “She is still my fucking wife, and I expect you to treat her with some goddamn respect.” I snatch my jacket from the back of my chair.

“Where are you going, son?” Dad asks with an exasperated sigh.

“Home.” I ignore their protests and Mason’s and Nathan’s half-assed apologies. “I need some fucking space,” I shout as I march out the door, thankful that no one tries to stop me.

I climb into my Bacalar, a gift from Nathan for my fortieth birthday. If I didn’t love it so much, I’d go back inside and shove the keys up his ass. Instead, I pull out my cell and send Amber a text on her regular number rather than the burner phone. Tonight, I want to spend time as Mr. and Mrs. James.

I stare at the screen, wondering if she’ll reply or if she’s too busy having fun with people who actually want to be around her. My heart beats a little faster when I see the dots that signal she’s typing.

No. Everything’s gone to shit, and you’re the only person who can make any of it feel better. I don’t type that though.

There are no dots to say she’s replying, and I quickly add.

A smile spreads across my face, and the tension slips away from my shoulders.

The kiss makes my smile wider, but when the pin drops, I’m sure she must have sent me the wrong location because it’s a soup kitchen in the Bronx. I check her phone location, and it matches what she sent. She might be on the board of directors … I’ve never been able to keep up with all the organizations she’s involved with. But that wouldn’t explain her being there on Thanksgiving. A dozen scenarios run through my mind involving my wife working in a soup kitchen in the Bronx. With no security. No protection. And no clue how to defend herself if something should happen.

Fuck. As much as I love this new Amber, she’s going to end up giving me a heart attack before I’m forty-five.

I park across the street and send her a text to let her know I’m outside. Feeling like a privileged prick parked outside a soup kitchen in a two-million-dollar car, I half expect her to call me and say I’ve got it all wrong, that she’s actually at some fancy Manhattan restaurant. But less than a minute later, she walks out of the building, pulling her coat tighter around her.

When she sees me, her face breaks into a smile that makes me feel better than I’ve felt all damn day. A baseball cap is pulled low on her head, her ponytail popping out of the back, and she doesn’t seem to be wearing a scrap of makeup, but she’s fucking glowing. And are those sneakers on her feet? Amber James is out in public wearing sneakers.

I jump out of the car and open the door for her.

“The Bacalar? Really? You couldn’t have tried to be a little less conspicuous?” Her smile has transformed into a wicked grin that has my brain misfiring, and I’m bombarded with images of the time we had hate sex on the hood of this car. From the twinkle in her eyes and the way she’s biting down on her lip, I assume her memory is replaying the same thing.

It was on my birthday, and she was livid that Nathan had bought me such an expensive gift and, in her mind, tried to upstage her. We were in our private parking garage, and I told her she was acting crazy. She called me a giant dick, and then the next thing I knew, I had her pinned to the hood and was shoving my dick inside her.

Glancing at the silver sports car, I’m about to explain that I would have called an Uber if I knew I was going to be driving to a soup kitchen tonight. But I’m enjoying this playful side of her too much, so I play along. Perhaps being Mr. and Mrs. Smith is easier than trying to be Mr. and Mrs. James. “I wanted to drive you home in style, Mrs. Smith.”

I gesture for her to climb inside, and she gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek before she does. The twitch in my cock becomes a full-blown ache.

We’re headed back toward the city, and she’s taken off the hat and settled back against the leather seat with a contented smile on her face. I have several questions, some of which are likely to piss her off, so I ease in gently. “So you started volunteering at a soup kitchen?”

She hums. “Not started, no. I only work there on Thanksgiving. It’s their busiest day of the year, and it’s saved me from spending it alone.”

There are so many things I want to unpack about that statement, but I don’t know where to begin. Again, I choose to play it safe. “You’ve done this before?”

She nods. “Every year for the past ten years.”

“What?” I almost crash the damn car. “How did I not know? What were you …” I clamp my mouth closed before I say something that will start an argument.

Her lips curve with a smile. “You remember that time I organized a benefit for the soup kitchen, don’t you?” she asks, and I hope she’s not waiting for my reply because in truth, I don’t. She’s organized hundreds of fundraisers and benefits. It would have been impossible to keep track of them all. Thankfully, she continues. “Well, I got along well with the people who ran it, Ricky Hernandez and his wife, Andréa. They invited me to volunteer, and I enjoyed it so much that I’ve done it every year since.”

“But how did nobody know? The press? How did I not know, Amber?”

She shrugs. “Hiding in plain sight, I guess. Either that, or a baseball cap is a better disguise than anyone gives it credit for. But truthfully, I don’t think anyone would expect it of me, so nobody ever looked for me there. And Ricky and Andréa would never out me—they’re too cool to do that.”

She’s got a point. I can’t imagine anyone searching for Amber James in a soup kitchen, at least not the Amber James I used to know. “And you didn’t tell me because …?”

“Why would I have?” She sounds genuinely confused. “You would’ve worried about me being there, and it’s not like we had plans to spend Thanksgiving together. I told you I was with friends, and it was the truth.”

Guilt and regret, compounded by my brothers’ asshole behavior earlier, eat up my insides. “But if I’d known you were spending Thanksgiving alone …”

I steal a glance at her and find her scowling. “I wasn’t alone.”

“Okay, you obviously weren’t alone, but I didn’t realize you didn’t have plans. If I knew, I would have⁠—”

“Abandoned your family?” I don’t miss the ice that’s crept into her tone. “And I did have plans. I’m quite happy with the way I’ve chosen to spend my Thanksgiving.”

“You should have told me, Amber,” I say quietly.

“Why? It’s not like you would have changed your plans and stayed with me instead of spending time with your dad and brothers.”

Now she’s being unfair. She can’t assume that when she didn’t give me the chance to prove otherwise. My knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. “Of course I would have!”

She snorts. “That’s a lie, and we both know it.”

“Don’t make me out to be some kind of monster. I never would have knowingly left you alone on Thanksgiving.”

She turns in her seat, and when I steal another glance at her, she’s glaring at me, her whiskey-colored eyes full of fire. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

I pull the car over to the side of the road so I can give her my full attention. “And you don’t? It’s no wonder we’re getting a divorce when you believe me to be that cruel.”

“Not cruel, darling, simply …” She sighs and shakes her head.

“Simply what?”

“Simply what you are. A devoted big brother who needs to be needed by your family. Remember the time I invited you to come to Charleston with me and you said you couldn’t leave them?”

I can’t believe she’s rewriting our history so egregiously. “One time, Amber. That was one time, and it was thirteen years ago.”

“That was one of a whole series of incidents. I stopped asking you to do anything or go anywhere with me because it hurt too much when you chose them over me. Every single time.”

Is that really how she’s felt our entire marriage? Like she’s second best?

“It really doesn’t matter now anyway. It’s ancient history. I actually had a lovely evening tonight, and I wouldn’t have chosen to spend it any other way. Will you please just take me home?”

I screw my eyes closed and take a deep breath. “I want to understand, Amber. Please talk to me.”

She shakes her head. “You’ll get upset and defensive, and then the evening will be ruined. So, no.” The words are brutal, but her tone is bland.

I put my hand on her arm and wait for her to look into my eyes and see how sincere I am. “I promise I’ll listen with an open mind.”

She licks her lips and then flashes me a well-you-asked-for-it-jackass look. “Your brothers always seem to need you, and I wonder sometimes if they really do or if they’re so used to you being there for them that they think they do.”

“It’s called being a good brother.” Immediately, I regret my words and my harsh tone. I just proved her point about getting upset and defensive. I lower my voice and keep it neutral. “Shouldn’t I be there for them if they need me? Even if they might not really? I don’t get how that’s a bad thing.”

“Of course you should be there for your brothers, Elijah, but not at the expense of …” Her throat works as she swallows, and tears fill her eyes. “There are four of them and only one of me.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean? “You truly think I prioritized them over you?”

She looks incredulous. “You don’t?”

A wave of guilt crashes over me at the naked, unvarnished pain in her eyes. “Okay, I did do that. Sometimes. But only when they really needed me. What was I supposed to do? I’m their big brother.”

“And you’re my husband. And it wasn’t sometimes, Elijah, it was every single time.”

“Like when?”

She rolls her eyes. “I could write you a list longer than the phone book, but off the top of my head, the benefit for Zoo Animals in the Arts a couple years ago—you blew me off at the last minute to go to dinner at Nathan’s. The dinner party I organized for the hospital board, which you didn’t attend because Mason needed you to go over some notes with him for a meeting. A meeting he was more than prepared for. Three months ago when Maddox asked you to take him to an NA meeting out of state when I had that follow-up with my doctor after an abnormal pap. Would you like me to continue?”

An argument is perched on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it down. She assured me the abnormal pap smear was nothing, that she didn’t need me fussing around her. But of course it wasn’t. She must have been scared. Anxious as hell. I was terrified. Despite her assurances, I stared at my phone the entire time Maddox was in his meeting, waiting for her to tell me everything was okay.

But she wouldn’t have known that because I was too afraid of her cutting rejection to tell her how badly I wanted to be there for her. I genuinely believed she didn’t need or want me around for any of that stuff. But that’s no excuse. It was my job to know that she needed me. My job to make her my top priority. “Amber, I … I am so sorry. I didn’t realize … didn’t know … I should have known you needed me.”

She brushes a tear from her eye. “The truth is, I learned to stop needing you a long time ago—I realized I couldn’t rely on you. But I never stopped hoping that you would choose me anyway.”

Her words are sharper than a knife to my heart, and I can’t deny the truth of them. Any one of my brothers would have been happy to take Maddox to his NA meeting, but I had to step in and be big brother of the year. Meanwhile, I was in contention for shitty husband of the decade.

Reminded of how I felt at my dad’s earlier and how she must have felt around them all the damn time, I take her hand in mine again and squeeze her slender fingers. “I’m sorry for every single time I didn’t prioritize you and every single time I made you feel second best.”

Her smile is wobbly but so beautiful. “I appreciate that.”

“Fuck, I was a crappy husband.”

She nods. “And I was a crappy wife. But not all the time. We worked in our own messed-up kind of way. And like I said, it’s ancient history.” Her expression changes completely, a light coming to life behind her eyes. “I had such an energizing and eye-opening day today, Elijah, and it truly made me thankful for so much. So let’s not dredge up our past hurts any more. How about we enjoy each other while we can?”

The sparkle in her eyes emboldens me. “And where would you like to do that, Mrs. Smith? I am entirely at your disposal.”

Her eyelashes flutter against her pink cheeks. “Is the room in Greenwich Village available?”

I press her knuckles to my lips. “For you, mi amor, always.”

She sighs, and I pull her in for a lingering kiss, unable to recall the last time I called her my love. I regret that as much as anything else she’s accused me of tonight. As much as all the ways I failed her the past twenty years. I’ve always prided myself on being a good man, and at least in other people’s eyes, I probably am seen as such. But none of that matters when I failed to show up for the one person in this world who should have been able to rely on me.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but I’ll beat myself up over it tomorrow. For tonight, there’s a smile on her face, and I will give her every ounce of my attention. It’s no less than she deserves.

I called ahead to the hotel and let the manager know we were on our way so he could prepare our room. There are other patrons here tonight, and I wanted us to be able to head straight to our room unnoticed. He was waiting for us when we arrived, and he slipped our usual room key into my hand.

There’s no residual hostility from our fraught conversation in the car, and as I clasp my wife’s hand in mine and pull her into the room, I’m overcome with desire. Judging by the way her pupils blow wide when I push her against the door, so is she.

I slide off her coat and let it drop to the floor, and she sinks her perfect white teeth into her pillowy bottom lip before looking down at herself. “I don’t think I’m properly dressed for a romantic liaison.”

My gaze hungrily devours her body. It’s true that she’s dressed down compared to her usual attire, in sneakers, faded jeans, and a plain baby-blue cashmere sweater, but she looks incredible to me. “I don’t intend for you to remain dressed for much longer, baby.”

She twists the end of her ponytail between her fingers and grimaces. “I smell like kitchen grease.”

Running my nose over her throat, I inhale, but all I can smell is her. Intoxicating. Addictive. “Then how about a shower first?”

She purrs and slowly works her hips against my hard cock. “I think that’s a good idea. You’ll wait until I’m done, won’t you?”

Tease.

I pick her up and wrap her legs around my waist. “The fuck I will.”

She giggles, wrapping her arms around my neck as I carry her to the bathroom. It takes me no time at all to relieve us both of our clothes and get us under the hot water. She stands with her back to me, and for a moment, I watch the droplets meander down her spine and over her perfectly round backside. With a hard smack on her ass, I silence her insistence that she can wash herself, and before long, she has her eyes closed and her lips parted while I wash and condition her caramel-colored locks.

When I’m done with her hair, I squeeze a generous amount of soap into my palm and slide my hands to her front, palming her breasts and massaging them slowly. She moans, pushing back against me until my throbbing cock is nestled between her ass cheeks. I nip at her flesh, enjoying the sounds she makes as I soap every part of her body. When the soap has almost washed away, I slip a hand between her thighs and palm her sweet pussy. “Time to make you really wet, mi amor.”

She rests her head on my shoulder as I sink one finger inside her. “Elijah,” she whimpers, her thighs trembling. “Please?”

“You want to come, baby?”

She sinks her nails into the muscle of my forearm. “Yes.”

I add a second finger and drive deeper and harder, relishing her tight heat squeezing me, her velvety wetness coating my fingers as I bring her closer to the edge. This right here is when she gives me complete control—when she’s trembling with need. I would live in these moments forever if I could, the moments when there’s nothing in the world but the two of us. I rest my lips against the shell of her ear. “I’ve got you. Let me take care of you, Amber.”

Using my free hand, I work her sensitive nipples, and a keening moan pours from her throat as she comes for me. Creamy wet heat runs down my palm, and my cock jumps, desperate to take over. While she’s still trembling, I spin her around and lift her. With her back pressed flat against the cool tiles and her legs around my hips, I have my cock inside her before she can take a breath, completely filling her tight pussy.

“Nobody will ever fuck you as well as I do, will they?”

She wraps her arms around my shoulders and buries her face in my neck.

Unable to bear the thought of losing her, I growl. The idea of her ever moving on from me is like a million blades slicing open my heart. I pull out slowly and drive back inside her with one smooth thrust. “Will they?”

“No, Elijah,” she whimpers, clinging to me as I nail her to the wall.

“That’s my good girl.” I fuck her harder, channeling all the frustration that has built up inside me. Nathan and Mason acting like jerks. Our argument in the car. The guilt I feel knowing everything she said was true.

She takes it all. Every punishing thrust. Until all the anger and hurt fades away and once again, it’s only the two of us against the world. Here, where nobody can touch us.

Heat builds in my core and spreads down my thighs as my own release draws near, and I slide a hand between us and circle her clit with my thumb.

She cries out my name, and I can’t hold back another second. I fill her tight channel with my release, and we pant for breath, foreheads pressed together as we ride out our orgasms. When I can finally speak again, I brush her hair back from her forehead and ask, “Will you stay here with me tonight?”

Her whiskey-colored eyes sparkle, and she bites down on her lip. If she says no, I might tie her to the bed anyway, but she smiles and whispers, “Yes.”

I gently lower her trembling legs to the shower floor and smile against her skin. I’ll order food and wine and we’ll eat and drink and make love again before she falls asleep in my arms. It’s the most perfect way I can imagine spending an evening. As much as I love spending time with the rest of my family, I don’t recall being this happy or this thankful in a very long time.