Home > Second Chance Vow(19)

Second Chance Vow(19)
Author: M. Robinson

My stare flew to Jax. “What?! I want him here!”

“You want me or him, Kinley?”

“Christian!” I exclaimed, staring at him now. “That’s not fair!”

“You want to know what’s not fair, Kinley? That he’s purposely doing this to make us fight, and you can’t see it!”

“No, he’s not,” I affirmed. “You don’t know him like I do. You’re just being unfair.”

“Fine,” Christian bit out. “I’ll fucking leave.” His vicious expression tore back to Jax, glaring him down with a look I’d never seen before from him. “But don’t for one second think we’re done here. I’m only leaving because I love her, and if I don’t, I’ll lose her…”

His next words rendered me speechless and broke my heart at the same time.

 

“To you. Exactly the way you want.”

 

 

Chapter 11

 

 

Christian

 

 

Now

 

 

I took a swig off the bottle of Jack as I made my way into the bathroom of the bar. The fiery liquid burned with delight, and all I wanted to do was forget. Tomorrow we’d sign our divorce papers, and despite knowing we still needed to go before the judge to make it official, it didn’t matter.

Our marriage was over. The rest was simply logistics.

Then what were the last twenty years for?

I fixed the broken girl only for her to shatter me in the end.

I’d tried kidding myself into believing I wished the last fucking twenty years didn’t happen, but that was a lie because there I was, thinking about only her.

My wife.

The only woman I’d ever loved.

I wanted to imagine that I didn’t see her face in front of me, the same face I’d woken up to every morning and fell asleep with every night. She’d lay in the crook of my arm while I played with her hair until she passed out.

It was the best part of my day. Having her in my arms was what I looked forward to the most. I’d watch her sleep, taking in her beauty.

However, if I would have known the last time I made love to her would have been the last I’d feel her mouth against mine, her heart beating in sync with mine, her body beneath me with my cock inside of her…

I would have taken more time to hear her moan, make her come, ruining her for any other man in her future. The mere thought ignited an intense fury I’d never felt before. A dark torment settled over my mind. It coursed through my veins, pumping through my blood as I took a long hard look in the mirror, not recognizing the man staring back at me anymore.

Who was he without Kinley?

We’d been together for so long, all I knew was how to love her.

Protect her.

Have her standing by my side.

For better or for worse didn’t matter anymore. Our vows were just words now with no meaning.

No value.

No morals.

The void in my heart spread like wildfire through my bones, deep into the core of my being.

I couldn’t stop the memories of her messy, unruly hair partially covering her face when I’d wake up every morning to her pouty, pursed lips which were usually swollen from my relentless and insatiable assault on her mouth the night before.

Her face flushed.

Her naked bare skin.

It was all a reminder of how many times I’d made love to her.

The scent of sex used to always hang heavy in our room. I could never get enough of her, and there was a time when she couldn’t get enough of me either. Only fueling my memories of how perfect we used to be together.

Both of us held captive by our love for one another.

I was such a lucky bastard. Having Kinley was all that mattered.

How do I stop loving her? How do I make the fucking pain go away? How do I live without her?

My heart ached thinking about all the questions that constantly hounded me. The fire inside of me would only ever belong to her. My core seized up thinking about the passion we once had for each other.

The longer I stared at myself in the mirror, the more the bathroom started to cave in on me, and I was finding it hard to fucking breathe.

The walls tightened all around me, stirring this piercing pain that felt as if I’d carry it with me the rest of my life. It was now a part of me, like she’d always be.

Along with the guilt of what I could have done differently.

The memories of where we went wrong.

The demons that we couldn’t conquer and the new ones that we were taking on.

It didn’t matter how hard we tried, or how much therapy we went to, nothing changed the outcome of us not being able to have a baby.

She was right. I did want a family more than anything in this world, but I didn’t want it more than I wanted her. She didn’t believe me, and I knew she was still carrying the trauma from her mother.

The thought of that woman sent my blood fucking boiling.

Searing.

Scorching my skin from the inside out.

I was certain about one thing and one thing alone—when I signed those papers tomorrow, I’d be taking her love with me.

I stood there battling the desire to go home to her, fully aware it wasn’t my home anymore. She made that perfectly clear the last time I saw her with Jax of all fucking people. Every emotion hit me in the face, back to back. Taunting me. Playing me like a goddamn fiddle. Making me feel like I was nothing more than a piece of shit.

And her soon-to-be ex-husband.

The truth slammed on top of me, my adrenaline triggering me to jump into action. I could feel the sweat pooling at my temple as I walked out of the bathroom. Chugging down the already half-empty liquor bottle in my grasp.

“Dr. Troy,” a familiar voice called out.

I turned to find a young brunette striding toward me with lust in her eyes. Like she’d just landed a prize. And just like that, it was gone. I could breathe.

Was this what I needed to officially move on?

She laughed. “You don’t remember me, do you? Well, I guess that makes sense considering you’re usually looking at my pussy.”

Did I just hear her right, or was I completely hammered?

I was used to women coming on to me, but this one was brazen with her words and her actions. I didn’t look like your average OB-GYN. I was covered in tattoos, sleeves down each of my arms. As a kid, I used to love tattoos, and the second I turned eighteen, I spent it at a tattoo parlor, getting inked for the first time.

Kinley was by my side when I got our anniversary tatted on my chest in roman numerals. There were several tattoos on my body that symbolized my wife.

What the fuck do I do with them now?

The woman leaned in to me, throwing her arms around my neck. “You look so lonely all by yourself, Dr. Troy. But you’re in luck! I’m such great company.”

This was the first time in two decades that another woman was touching me so intimately, and all I could think about was Kinley.

Even in my drunken state, the woman throwing herself at me looked young.

“How old are you?”

“Old enough,” she baited, looking up at me through her long, dark lashes. “I could help you forget about your ex-wife.”

It didn’t surprise me she knew about our divorce—we were the talk of our small town.

I grabbed her arms from around my neck. “She’s still my wife.”

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