Rebound: Chapter 39

As soon as I discover she’s not home, I consider calling Sanjay to ask if he’s taken her to the community center, but the man still doesn’t like me, and I’m happy to leave it that way. Fuck knows she needs an ally.

I’ve been fielding calls from Luisa and Mason about work, and Nathan is worried I need company after signing the final paperwork today and wants to know if I want to grab a drink or dinner or to come stay the night at his place. And Dad left a voicemail asking if I’ll bring my “new lady friend” to brunch at the house soon.

Christ. I love my family with all my heart, but right now I wish they’d all back the fuck off. I need to find a way to press a mute button so I can concentrate. Shit, I should have figured out a way to do that years ago.

After telling Gretchen where we’re heading next, I deal with the rest from the back seat. I answer the work queries about the South Korean deal, tell Nathan I’ll call him tomorrow, and send Dad a message telling him there is no new lady friend despite what he may have heard through the family grapevine. Hell, I’ll be lucky if the woman I’ve loved for over half my life will still agree to be my friend at all.

Jesus fuck, what a mess. I rub my hands over my beard and try to let go of some tension. For her sake, maybe I should let her go. But I’m not that good of a man—and damn it, I need her in my life. The way she behaved earlier, so calm as we swung a wrecking ball through our marriage, drove me mad. I still think of her as mine and can’t bear the thought of that changing.

So what now? I can’t force her to feel differently. It’s not like I’ve done a good job of persuading her. Why the fuck would she want to belong to me after the way I’ve treated her?

By the time we arrive at the community center, I’m no closer to clarity. I am a jumble of nerve endings and energy. “We’re here, Mr. J,” Gretchen says, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror. “I’ll wait for you, okay?”

It makes me smile. My five-foot-nothing driver is worried for my safety. “Sure. Thanks, Gretch.”

Light spills from the windows of the sprawling building, and I catch a glimpse of a garden, walls covered in spectacular graffiti art. It’s bright and welcoming, and I’m met by a familiar face at the reception desk. “Mr. James,” Vicky says as I stride toward her. “Welcome to LOJ—it’s great to see you here. This is Alfie. Alfie, this is Miss Amber’s hubby.”

The adolescent boy smiles at me. “I like Miss Amber. She’s real nice.”

“She is,” I agree, smiling back. “That’s actually why I’m here. Where would I find her, Vicky?”

She checks the screen in front of her and tilts her head. “Uh, I’m not sure Mr. J. She’s here, I’ve seen her, but she’s not down to lead a class. Here, take this.” She hands me a clip-on name badge that labels me a visitor. “You can go on in and look for her.”

The building smells of cleaning products and baking, and the walls are covered in more graffiti art, along with a variety of posters and flyers. I take in the signs for cooking classes, exercise clubs, bingo nights. Music and children’s laughter drift from behind closed doors along the hallway. I can see why Amber likes this vibrant, friendly hub of activity. There’s more genuine warmth in this center than all of her society functions put together.

I pop my head into a room where a boxing lesson is taking place and watch with interest. The kid in the ring is young and slightly built, but powerful and clearly talented. A lot of great fighters come out of local community centers like this.

I look out of place in my suit and designer shoes, but people still nod and say hi as I wander the halls. Eventually, I start to wonder if she’s even here. One room remains, and I peer through the small glass panel to check what’s going on inside. With a roar, I burst into the room.

My wife is lying pinned to the floor, her arms held above her head, some massive Viking motherfucker lying on top of her. I vaguely register there’s someone else in the room and know I should slow down and assess the threat, but I can’t. Amber is in danger. Someone is hurting my wife.

I crouch low and barrel into him, slamming him off her and onto the ground before he has time to react. I straddle him and punch him in the side of the head, white noise filling my ears and red mist filling my vision. I pummel the guy, vaguely aware of Amber screaming, “Stop!” in the background. I pause and look around in case the second guy has her, and the Viking makes the most of it. He takes a swing at my jaw and knocks me backward onto my ass. I get right back to my feet and am about to dive in again when I’m grabbed from behind. Strong arms pull me backward, and my feet lose their grip on the floor. I struggle and pull one arm free, snarling.

I’ve never felt so wild—I will fucking kill them. The Viking stays on the ground and stares at me, shaking his head and holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. Amber walks toward me and places her palms on my heaving chest. “I’m okay, Elijah. I’m okay.”

Her hands on my body and the placating tone of her voice take hold, and I suck in a breath. “What the fuck is going on?” I demand, shaking myself free of the man behind me. He lets me go, and when I turn to glare at him, I see that he has blood coming out of his nose. I must have headbutted him, and I can’t say that I regret it.

“This is Erik.” Amber gestures at the blond giant scrambling to his feet. “And that is Rafael. They’re teaching me how to defend myself.”

My anger is still bubbling away beneath the surface, but I force myself to calm down. She’s wearing gym clothes, her hair is tied up for exercise, and she is totally unhurt. I place my hands over hers on my chest and gaze into her eyes, and only then do I finally start to relax. And then I feel like an asshole.

“This must be the husband,” Erik says, laughing and offering me a big paw to shake. Blood dribbles from a cut above his eye, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. “Nice moves, man—though I almost had you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I don’t think so, Erik. But fuck. I guess I’m sorry?”

Rafael, equally large and covered in tattoos, wipes the blood from his face. “No need. We’ll let that go. Must have looked bad.” His voice is low and quiet. “But she’s doing great.”

“She’s a natural.” Erik laughs again. “Took out a baby gang banger all by herself.”

“She did what?” I repeat, narrowing my eyes at my wife.

She shrugs. “I did no such thing. I merely … spoke to him sternly.”

“You broke his fucking nose,” Erik says.

Amber grins devilishly, a glint in her eyes. “Yes. I suppose I did, didn’t I?”

I shake my head, letting this new reality settle in. My wife, the ass-kicker. “Amber, can we go somewhere and talk?”

Both of the big men look at her, waiting for her response. I tense, because they won’t get in my way, no matter how big they are.

She nods. “Okay. There’s a pub two blocks over called O’Shaughnessy’s. Let me get changed, and I’ll meet you there.”

O’-fucking-Shaughnessy’s? Since when did Amber start hanging out at Irish dive bars? Over the summer, before any of this divorce stuff, I took Drake to a real spit-and-sawdust joint in the East Village. I said I loved it because she would hate it. God, I was such a dick. But it really does drive home how much she’s changed in such a short time. She hasn’t only shed her fucking skin—she swapped out every cell of her DNA.

With a nod toward Erik and Rafael, I head out and let Gretchen know where I’m going. I’m not surprised that she knows the place—her brother’s a cop in Queens, and she spends time here. Turns out it is Irish, but it’s not so much of a dive. In fact, it’s pretty nice. I order a Guinness and a Bushmills for myself and a pinot for Amber and settle down at a table to wait for her. Fifteen minutes later, she walks in. She’s obviously had a quick shower and is dressed in yoga pants and a tank. Her hair is shaggy and damp, and she’s not wearing a scrap of makeup. She looks like a complete stranger—a gorgeous, intoxicating stranger. She nods at me, sits down, and gulps a mouthful of wine. Some things, at least, haven’t changed. Thank god.

“I’m sorry,” I say, determined to start this off the way I should. “For what happened back there. I just saw you on the ground, and …”

“It’s okay. I get it. They get it. If I saw you in that position, I’d have done the same.”

I smile at her. “Yeah, I think you would. You’re full of surprises, Amber.”

“Most of them,” she says, smiling back, “are surprises to me too. Now, what are you actually doing here, Elijah? If you’ve come to discuss the thing about your mom, please don’t. I think we both said everything we need to.”

There’s a hint of steel to her voice, but I also spot the slight tremor in her hand as she lifts her glass. As usual, she’s trying to appear less human than she actually is. For years, she hid her vulnerability underneath a cold exterior. I might be the right guy for steaming into a room and attacking Vikings, but I haven’t protected her in other ways. The ways that matter. And that realization continues to come like a punch to the gut.

“No, I don’t think we have,” I reply. “And I don’t think there are enough words in the English language for me to apologize with. I might have to start with Spanish.”

She quirks an eyebrow at me. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’m more sorry than I can ever fucking say. I’m sorry that I didn’t immediately take you into my arms and apologize for the things my mom said to you. I never doubted that you were telling the truth, Amber, I hate that she said those things. Even more, I hate that you felt like you had to protect me from it when you were hurting yourself. I let you down, and I’m all out of excuses.”

She pales a little and shakes her head. “No. Like I’ve said before, we both made mistakes. I hid things from you. I shut you out. I played a very big part in all of this.”

“Maybe, in the past, yeah—we both made mistakes. But the thing with Freddie? The thing today? That’s all on me, Amber. I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I want you back, more than anything in the whole world. It’s taken all of this for me to understand how much. That being said, I think we needed time apart. I needed to do some serious thinking and sort my shit out. You needed to … Fuck, baby, you need to keep on doing what you’re doing, because it suits you. You’re fucking radiant. I can see you growing and changing and lighting up from the inside. I don’t want to get in the way of that. I don’t want to hold you back. But you need to know that my love for you has never faded. And it never will.”

She bites her lip, and stares at the tabletop. The old Amber would have simply given me the evil eye and said something pointed and sharp that shredded me to pieces. The new Amber? I have no fucking clue.

“What do you want from me, Elijah?” she says quietly, finally looking up with tears in her tawny eyes.

“Everything,” I reply. “And nothing. I think we’re worth fighting for, but I also know that this isn’t the right time to push you. I understand that you still need time.”

She laughs and wipes away the tears. “You think?” The challenge in her eyes is the perfect combination of the old Amber and this new one. “After everything that’s happened, I don’t know if there ever will be a right time to push me. I love you, but I’m also wary of you. You hold so much power over me. I see you, and I want you. I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to fight for us as well, but I think … I think for now, I need to fight for myself instead. Does that make any sense?”

“It does,” I answer, knowing she’s right but hating every second of this. “I understand. And for now, I accept it. But Amber? This is not me giving up on us. This is me giving us space to breathe. I need to sort things out with my family and to look at the way work has taken over my life. How about we press pause? Really press pause, until next year?”

“Elijah, it’s already December 21.” She smirks. “That’s a lot to fix in ten days.”

“I know, and it’s not a deadline. It’s just … Amber, we’ve loved each other for more than two decades. Surely it’s worth another few days at least. Or longer, if that’s what it takes. Let’s see how we feel in the new year.”

I see the indecision in her eyes, the mix of hope and fear. I put the fear there, and now all I can do is pray that hope wins out. “And you promise you’ll leave me alone until then? No turning up at the door, no suggestive texts, no …uh …”

“Spectacularly hot sex? No tying you up and fucking you? No blindfolds, no torturing those sweet nipples of yours? No orgasms, no spanking …”

She goes bright red, and my cock responds in a predictable fashion. “Elijah! Stop it.”

I grin at her. I could talk her into bed right now. But a deal is a deal, and I fight back the urge. “I promise.”

Her nod is small but firm. “Okay. I agree.” She drags her chair back quickly—she wants to touch me as much as I want to touch her. She was right that night. Fighting and fucking—we’re awesome at both, but we need more than that if we’re going to make it.

She leaves in a cloud of coconut shampoo, and I stay and finish my whiskey. Fuck. I have no clue what’s going to happen between us, but at least it’s not the end.