Always (Spiral of Bliss #5) - Nina Lane Page 0,109
another unknown element. I don’t even know if I’m capable of feeling any real pleasure. I don’t know if Dean is.
Instead of waiting for him to leave his tower office and come to bed, since I have no idea when that will be, I pick up my phone to call his cell.
“Do you need anything?” he asks.
“No, thanks. I was wondering when you’re coming to bed.”
“I don’t know. I got a few chapters of my book back from my editor, so I’m going over her notes right now.”
“Oh.” I’m suddenly too embarrassed—and worried—to mention the possibility of sex. I’m not at all sure I can compete with both Dean’s book and the effects of chemo. “Just checking.”
“Okay. I’ll try to turn in early tonight.”
I end the call and berate myself for not trying harder. I really don’t think Dean will be the one to instigate anything sexual for fear of making me feel obligated to do something I don’t want to do.
The thing is—I do want to. I don’t expect any wild, energetic, three-hour marathon, but getting our sexual intimacy back will make us both feel better.
I climb out of bed and push my feet into a pair of slippers. Even on a good day, getting around the Butterfly House can be a challenge, and the stairs have become my own personal Mount Everest. But in the past, Dean and I have had many hot encounters in the tower, even before we bought the house. Maybe we need that isolated seclusion again now.
I check on the children and take the baby monitor with me so I can hear either one of them if they call. I walk slowly down the stairs and into the kitchen, where the spiral staircase leading to the tower curves down into a little alcove. I grasp the railing with one hand and start up the stairs.
After a few steps, my heart is beating with exertion. I remind myself that I’ve climbed these very stairs several times this past week, though maybe that’s the reason it’s more difficult now.
I stop, thinking this wasn’t such a great idea. By the time I get to Dean’s office, I might really be too tired to do anything except sit down and wait for my heartbeat to settle.
A wave of frustration hits me—unexpected and hard. I’m a thirty-six-year-old mother of two young children, for god’s sake. I own a business. I decorate cakes, chaperone first-grade field trips, and plan birthday parties filled with games and balloons. I’m supposed to be upbeat and energetic, not shuffling up the stairs like a ninety year old needing to stop constantly just to catch my breath.
I grip the stair railing tighter and quicken my pace. I’m going to do this, dammit. I’m getting to the top of the—
The world spins. I stop. My vision blurs, my breath quickening in my lungs. The baby monitor clatters down the steps.
I grab the railing with my other hand and manage to sit down on one of the steps. Dizziness washes through my head, bringing a surge of nausea. I press my face to my knees.
A door opens from somewhere above.
“Liv?”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Liv.” Dean’s footsteps echo on the stairs. “Baby, what happened? Are you all right?”
He crouches on the step behind me, his arms coming around me in that secure circle I know so well. But this time, it brings no comfort.
“Liv, breathe. Count of—”
“No.” I manage to choke out the word. “It’s not that, Dean. I just got dizzy.”
“Okay, sit for a minute, then. I’ll get you some water.”
“No. I don’t want any water.”
I press my face harder against my knees, fighting the inevitable tears. In addition to feeling stupid, I really don’t want to start crying.
I get myself under control and lift my head. Dean moves away from me to pick up the baby monitor from a few steps below.
“Why didn’t you call me or text?” he asks, his forehead creasing. “You didn’t have to try and climb the stairs again.”
Yes, I did. Even if I didn’t succeed, I had to try.
He’s standing on a lower step in front of me, looking at me with a slow, dawning understanding—because it’s not as if I put on a pretty nightgown and makeup every night right before bed. Embarrassment crawls up my chest.
“Oh, my beauty.” Dean’s voice is pained and unbearably tender, which only makes me feel worse.
I shake my head and cover my face with my hands. “I feel so stupid.”