you can learn to sleep on your right side or your stomach.” She cleans the burns as I clench my teeth.
“I’m a back sleeper. You know this.”
Julie frowns, dressing my wounds. “That’s why I said it. But we’ve been apart for over a year.” She shrugs. “I thought maybe having the bed to yourself might have changed that. Or do you have company in bed?”
“Yes. Roman finds his way into my room, heating my bed by about ten degrees.”
For the first time since she started tending to my bared backside, she shoots me a quick glance with a nervous smile.
Yeah, I’m an idiot.
I turn my head, staring at the wall with my arms folded under my chin. “That was your way of asking if I’ve had another woman in my bed? Smooth, Jules … so smooth I didn’t catch it.”
“You’re a wonderful man, Eli. Any woman would be lucky to be in your bed.”
“Except my wife.”
“I’m not your wife anymore.”
I grunt. Maybe I should have let Dorothy deal with my burns. “God … you’re so clinical, Jules.”
“I’m professional.”
“Cold.”
“Thorough. Focused. What is your deal? Did you think I was going to treat your burns with a hand job?”
“If I thought you were going to address my burns with the same fumbling ineffectiveness as your hand jobs, I would have let the patient transporter treat me.”
Her gloves snap as she peels them from her hands and tosses them into the trash can. “Have your mommy change your dressings.”
The door opens. The door closes.
I remain on my stomach, eyes shut as I blow out a slow breath. Had I not loved her right down to my soul, I wouldn’t hate her so much. After easing on a pair of clean scrubs, I slip out of the room and find Julie in her office.
She glances up from her computer as the door clicks behind me. Guilt wars in her eyes, weathering her face and weighting her posture. It’s always the same look. Even when I provoke her like I did a few minutes ago, she bleeds more pain than anger.
“Will the day ever come that I fully understand?” I stroll around her tiny office, inspecting the diplomas, professional licenses, and achievement awards that I’ve seen a million times before, the photos on her desk of Roman, and the Zen garden my mom gave her.
“Probably not.”
Keeping my back to her, I stare blankly at the bookcase filled with medical journals. “Are you happy, Jules? Is this new life everything you hoped it would be?”
“I don’t know how to answer that. It’s hard to feel happy being the villain.”
I turn slowly as she closes her laptop and leans back in her desk chair, hugging her arms to her body like a shield.
“I never said you were the villain.”
Julie grunts. “I’m not sure our families would agree.”
“Families? You mean my family.”
“Your family. My family. Our mutual friends. People here at the hospital. Don’t act like you don’t see it. Perfect Elijah abandoned by his awful wife. The looks. The whispers. They don’t go unnoticed by me. And that’s fine. I made a very conscious decision to walk away knowing this would happen. But it’s been a year. Haven’t I served my time?”
I can’t answer that question. I just … can’t. One night we were making love with so much intensity I felt like a damn virgin, falling in love with this woman all over again. It felt pivotal. Something so out of our ordinary that I knew things would be different between us. But my different was not even on the same planet as her different. Before I could suggest we ask her parents to watch Roman so we could get away, maybe renew our wedding vows, and work on giving Roman a brother or sister … BOOM!
“I need out, Eli.”
Need.
Not want. NEED.
Julie needed out of our marriage. And when she broke down crying, I actually felt sorry for her. She sounded like a victim pinned beneath an overturned car. Begging me to help her.
“What do you want me to do, Jules?”
Anything.
I wanted to do whatever she needed. All I could focus on was helping her out of her pain. Lifting that proverbial car from her so she could breathe … so she’d stop crying. It was always instinctual to take away her pain.
“I need you to let me go.”
She wanted me to let go of fifteen years of marriage, just like that. Live with joint custody for the next sixteen years. Untangle my life from hers.