something he’ll get over quickly: there will be no bouncing back from this until what I’ve done has been dragged out into the open, spread out before us and taken apart piece by piece. We’ve had our battles—more than most—and in the past it has been Ayden’s love and protection that has pulled me through. This time it’s different, our roles have been reversed and I’m not sure how he will deal with that. For me to have gone behind his back—even with the best of intentions—goes against everything he believes in.
My death defying deed has taken him to the brink of his emotional threshold; bringing him back won’t be easy. But, if I want my husband back—and I so desperately do—I’ll have to reassure him that what I did doesn’t take anything away from him being my protector. Everything we have, every soul-searching decision we have made has been selfless with our backs against the wall. We have both put the other’s safety before our own—that’s love, that’s our kind of love, and this, the aftershock, must be discussed and put behind us or his fractured Achilles heel—trust—will be forever broken.
With the flight well underway, I leave my seat, take a couple of confident strides over to him, and unclip his seat belt.
Unsure of my intentions, he looks up at me. “What’s wrong?”
I toss his phone on the opposite seat, take his hand and pull him out of his seat. “Nothing. Come with me.”
Convinced we are about to engage in some kind of sexual rendezvous, he smirks. “Is there turbulence on the horizon?”
With him one step behind, I turn back, acknowledging our private joke with a smile. “You could say that.”
The long sofa at the rear of the jet stretches out before us, offering a comfortable space to voice our feelings and meet our fears head-on. Thinking I’m about to settle on his lap, Ayden sits upright, knees together, eyes forward.
Not yet, Ayden. Not yet.
I separate his knees and stand before him. Making every second count, I trace the outline of his face with my fingers, erasing the worry lines above the bridge of his nose before moving onto the delicate skin around his piercing blue eyes and his cheekbones. I’m rapt, so taken with his handsome visage I lose all sense of purpose.
What was I about to say?
Like a woman who has been blinded by singlemindedness, I begin to appreciate, up-close, the physical impact our forced separation has had on my husband. I see how light grey shadows frame those sapphire spheres like spectres only visible in a certain light; blue and green shards that I have gazed lovingly upon are clouded over by a thin film of fog concealing the sparks that once flickered like fireworks. How brave he’s been through it all, concealing his suffering and enduring self-imposed loneliness for the sake of my safety. My heart aches just looking at him.
I do love this man.
“Assessing?” he asks, shaking me from my reverie.
“No. Enjoying. Always enjoying.” I take his face in both hands and stroke his lips with mine. “I’ve missed this handsome face.” And that single declaration begins the healing process. “Thank you for taking care of me, for taking care of us…”
“But I—“
I cover his mouth with my fingers. “You saved us. I won’t have you going over what happened like an accident investigator, filling your head with what if’s. What I did was wrong, but baby, I couldn’t let you do it. Not sacrifice yourself for us. Not when I knew there was another solution.”
“I love you for doing it, but it could have ended badly, Beth. It almost did.”
“I know. But, Ayden, it didn’t,” I reassure him.
He’s shaking his head. “I don’t understand how they got to you.”
“Let’s not think about that.” I brush back a strand of liquorice-coloured hair. “Anyway, it’s over. What does it matter?”
“It matters, Beth.” He won’t be shaken from this. “Right now, I have Lester interviewing his guys one at a time to find out who sold out.”
“But you don’t know them, Ayden,” I implore with certainty. “They were willing to risk their lives for me. They wouldn’t let me get involved. If they’d followed my plan, I would have been the one caught in the blast, not Bernie.”
The thought of it causes him to shudder. “Fuck, Beth. I thought—”
I pull him to me, curtailing his confession. “I know what you thought.”
He snakes his arms around my waist and rests his head on my stomach. “I died