Occasionally Yours: A Second Chance Romance (Astor Family Series Book 4) Page 2

  Four little pieces of paper, actually, that is the only documentation of my existence. That and my regular meetups with my husband. Every three months, one weekend. Occasional lovers. Two people who need to scratch an itch, and then I disappear again.

  It’s unconventional, but it’s the way that it has to be. It’s the only way that it can be. Hitching my small duffel bag over my shoulder, I tilt my head down and make my way toward the building.

  Lifting my hand, I touch the buzzer, but there’s no response. Pressing my lips together, I roll them around a few times, wondering where I’m going to go while I wait for him to come home? Then I wonder where he would be on a Friday late afternoon.

  My stomach twists at the idea of him being out on a date with another woman. It shouldn’t. I should allow him his freedom. But I’m selfish and gluttonous. I know that I am. I can’t let him go, but I can’t keep him either, which is why I come to him every three months and soak up the two days that I can.

  It’s only two full days, too. Half of a Friday, all day Saturday, and then half of a Sunday. That’s all I get, that’s all he gets, and for now, we have to live with that, because of my selfish ways. For the past five years, we’ve had to live with that. I’ve had to live with that. Knowing that he seems okay with it, but definitely not happy. Neither am I. Nothing about this makes me happy.

  We had three full months of bliss before my family found me and tore that bliss to shreds. I’m not strong enough to tell them no. Not strong enough to stay at my husband’s side. Not strong enough to leave him. Not strong enough to let him go.

  Simply just not strong enough.

  “You need inside?” a voice asks from beside me. Turning my head, I look over and smile at the stranger.

  “I forgot my key. My husband isn’t home yet,” I say, telling mostly the truth.

  He grins. “Which one’s yours? I just moved into the building last week, I haven’t met anyone yet,” he says, making conversation as he digs his keys out of his pocket.

  I watch as he slides the key card through the door and it makes an unlocking sound. He tugs the handle down and pulls it open. I thank my lucky stars that he’s here to let me inside. Even if Lawrence isn’t here, at least I can wait by his door.

  “Lawrence Astor. He’s my husband,” I say.

  The words sound foreign as they leave my lips, but I know them to be the truest thing I’ve said in my entire life. Lawrence is my husband and I love him. No matter the distance, he’s the man that is meant to be mine, even if I can never fully have him for myself.

  “Oh, the shrink?” he asks.

  My lips twitch into a small smile, thinking about Lawrence and his career. I will forever be the patient that he can’t crack, and he has zero problem reminding me of that every time that he sees me.

  Although these days, he does know a bit more about my past than he did when we were first married. He still doesn’t know everything, though. Because how can you truly know another person, especially if you’ve been together a total of forty days during the past five years.

  “Yeah, the psychologist,” I say with a nod.

  We walk together toward the elevator and step inside. He doesn’t say anything else, or if he does, I don’t hear him. All I can think about is seeing Lawrence again. Lawrence with his dark hair and amber-colored eyes. Lawrence with his kind and easy smile.

  My Lawry.

  When the elevator dings and it’s my floor, I thank the man and step out into the hall. I don’t turn around to watch the doors close, instead, I head straight toward Lawry’s door. Toward him, toward my one weekend of freedom that I selfishly take every three months.

  Lifting my hand, I knock on the door, hoping that he’ll be inside. After last time, when his brother showed up and saw me, I shouldn’t be surprised if he never wants to see me again.

  I have no doubt that his brother had a million questions, and I could tell that Lawrence was completely annoyed with me about the entire thing. I saw the shock on his brother’s face the second he saw me.

  I knew it was him. There was no doubting it.

  They could have been twins. It was unnerving.

  We didn’t talk about it. I wanted to, but I didn’t know how to approach it. How do you ask your estranged husband of five years about his brother who shows up while you’re there? How do you ask for an introduction when you know you don’t deserve it?

  Lawrence doesn’t answer the door after I knock. So instead of chancing being locked out of the building again, I decide to just sit on the floor and wait. Closing my eyes, I rest my head against the wall and I just breathe.

  I’ve been so excited all day, so nervous about seeing him again, about him being angry, that I haven’t even eaten. He wasn’t angry when I left him three months ago, but I could tell that he was annoyed with the situation. But since I’ve been gone, I haven’t had a chance to even breathe. I’m taking that for myself right now, at least until he comes home—if he comes home.

  “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” a deep voice murmurs.

  Opening my eyes, I look up and he’s standing right above me. “Lawry,” I breathe.

  He grins down at me, but as every smile has been the past five years, it’s sad. It doesn’t reach his eyes, and I know it’s because of me—it’s my fault. He used to smile so big that his eyes, his entire face, his entire being, lit up.

  Now, his smile is a mask, just like the one I wear every second of every day, except when I’m with him. Forty days. I’ve smiled a total of forty days over the past five years. Felt happiness for a total of forty days.

  No more, no less.

  He reaches down, extending his palm, and I slip my fingers in his. He tugs me up to standing, and I grab my bag as I straighten. Looking at my watch, my eyes widen and I blink a few times.

  “You’re late,” I point out.

  He chuckles. “I am. Had a work thing tonight with the other doctors in the practice. Didn’t expect you.”

  “You didn’t?”

  He hums as he opens the door, then holds it for me. I slip past him, setting my bag on the floor. The door closes and I hear the lock click into place. Turning around, I see him leaning against the closed door, his amber-colored eyes focused on mine.

  “Lawry?” I ask.

  I can tell it’s something and I have a feeling I know exactly what that is. It’s something he should have said, should have demanded five years ago. I’ve been living on borrowed time with him and I know it.

  LAWRENCE

  I didn’t expect her to show up this time. I thought that the last time was the last. She was freaked out that Laurent showed up with his woman problems, but she also was frozen at the sight of him.

  “I can’t do this anymore, Rory.”

  “Please,” she whispers.

  The single word has the power to break me, but I can’t let it. This has gotten ridiculous. Five years of this is not fucking normal.

  Lifting my hand, I wrap my fingers around the back of my neck and squeeze. She’s the most frustrating woman I have ever known. And the only woman I have ever loved. Her blue eyes focus on mine and I see pleading and sadness all rolled into one.

  “Rory,” I murmur, my gaze never leaving hers.

  She takes a step toward me, then another. Her blonde hair is in soft waves and it’s longer than it was the last time I saw her. She’s letting it grow out, and it’s sexy as hell. I’ve never been a man who cared about hair length, but shit is hers sexy right now.

  “Lawry,” she breathes as she continues to move closer to me.

  I feel her chest press against mine and I almost lose my control. Almost. Shaking my head, I clear my throat and lift my hands, wrapping my fingers around her shoulders as I push her a few steps backward.

  Her eyes widen at my very uncharacteristic move. I’ve never turned her down or away. Never pushed her off of me. Never denied her anything. My door has always been open to her, until now.

  I can’t continue to accept
this.

  Something has to give and this isn’t what I want for myself. Not anymore. I’ve seen what life could look like, watching my dad, Laurent, and Lucinda find their matches, build families. I want that for myself.

  “I need more,” I say.

  She watches me wordlessly for a long moment, then her blue gaze shifts to the side and she inhales a deep breath before releasing it. She slowly shifts her eyes back to meet mine.

  There is a moment of silence, where she doesn’t say anything right away, but I know that she understands my words. She’s thinking. I know exactly how she is. She thinks, then she speaks. She never just says anything without thorough thought.

  “It’s unfair for me to ask this of you. Two days every three months. It’s not normal.”

  “No, Rory, it’s not. I’ve accepted that, mainly because I love you too much to demand a change. You walked out on me, on our marriage, because of a familial duty that I still don’t even understand after five years. I could be accepting of that if I knew what the fuck was going on, and if there was a time frame on when it was ending, but nothing has changed in five years, not a single thing.”

  Her eyes instantly fill with tears and I feel like a dick. But five years of missed happiness, of missed chances at life, of the missed possibility of children. If I stay another ten years, then what?

  Will I ever have my own children? Will I ever wake up on Christmas morning with my own wife? Will I ever be asked to buy milk on my way home from work? No, I won’t. And I’m not willing to give up those little moments or the big moments, not anymore. Not any longer. I want what my entire family has found.

  “It’s unfair,” she whispers.

  “Agreed.”

  She presses her lips together, rolling them a few times, then nods her head once. I watch as she walks over to her bag and picks it up.

  “Where do I send the divorce papers?” I ask.

  Her entire body jerks as if I’ve hit her. Her eyes meet mine. They’re round and those tears finally fall down her cheeks instantly. I feel guilty as fuck, but I can’t put my life on hold any longer. I need more.

  “I understand,” she breathes.

  “Unless you want to tell me the whole story? Maybe we can work it out?”

  I know that my words give her hope, at least I think that they do. Maybe that hope is false security, but at the end of the day, my love for her will never disappear. In my fantasy, she tells me everything, she stays here, and we live a messy wonderful life—together.

  “You know that I can’t,” she whispers.

  “I just don’t understand why.”

  Her tear-stained face lifts to mine and she nods her head. “I know you don’t, Lawry. I wish that things could be different.”

  “Where will you go tonight?”

  She shrugs but doesn’t say anything, then she starts to cry in earnest. Her shoulders shake with her sobs and I want to comfort her, but I don’t know what the right thing to do is in this situation.

  “I’ll figure it out,” she murmurs between her sobs.

  Clearing my throat, I make a decision. Stepping forward, I wrap my arms around her and hold her close to me as I look down into her wet blue eyes.

  “Stay here the weekend. Maybe I can talk you into confiding in me?” I ask, giving her a small smile.

  She returns my smile but says nothing. She doesn’t need to. Her bag drops to the floor with a thud and I make yet another mistake of the dozens I’ve made in my life. I kiss my wife. I fall into her all over again, and I remember why I wait for three months, just for these small bits of her.

  Chapter Two

  RORY

  Waking up next to him is exactly where I belong. I feel it down to my bones, to my soul. Even if I can’t have what I need, he is definitely it for me. In every single way. If I told him the truth, would he judge me? The answer is yes.

  He’s reached his breaking point and I don’t blame him. Honestly, I expected it years ago. I don’t know how this has gone on for as long as it has, but I’ve been far too scared to even attempt to breach the topic.

  Last night was amazing as always, but the sadness was there too. It’s still here in the room, hovering like a thick cloud above us, all around us. I don’t know how to make it go away and I have a feeling when it comes to missing Lawrence Astor, it never will.

  He hums, his eyes crack open as he looks at me. For a moment, the worried pain doesn’t appear in his features, but as soon as he blinks, it’s back. My heart squeezes at the sight. I feel like a horrible person.

  No, I don’t feel it, I am a horrible person.

  Lawrence doesn’t say anything. Instead, he lifts his hand and slides his palm around the side of my neck, tangling his fingers in my hair. I don’t think he’s touched my hair this much in our time together. I should have grown it out years ago. If I had known that he would have liked it this much, I would have.

  I let out a sigh as his lips brush mine, then move down my neck, to the hollow of my throat. When he sucks me there, I whimper and lift my hand, wrapping my fingers around his bicep. My nails dig into his flesh as my body climbs higher, begging for more from him.

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I’m too afraid to verbally beg, too afraid that he’ll tell me no and make me leave.

  Whimpering, I spread my legs and silently invite him to take me. He chuckles against my throat, shifting so that he’s on top of me, his hips fitting perfectly between my thighs.

  Sliding my arms around his shoulder, I release my teeth from my cheek and part my lips as he sinks inside of me. He doesn’t move right away, burying himself deep as his gaze focuses on mine. I don’t move either.

  I am frozen, my heart racing, my breathing coming out in pants. This man is gorgeous and perfect and he deserves a beautiful life and I’ve taken that from him. I’ve done it, because I’m just as bad and selfish as my family claims that I am.

  He doesn’t notice my frozen state. He starts to move and my breath escapes as I feel him inside of me. His eyes don’t leave mine, he focuses on me and I can’t help but think that this is going to be one of our last times together. The impending doom is there, and there’s no way this is going to end well.

  A pang of sadness washes throughout my entire body. I try to hold off my orgasm, try to savor the moment, knowing that this will be the last time. But my body has other plans. My release builds inside of me, my body climbing higher and higher, standing on the edge and about to tip over.

  This is everything. This is the most important part of us. Maybe we don’t have those little day-to-day things, but we have this, and this always makes up for missing those little things. At least to me, it does. This intimacy is more than anything else I’ve ever felt before in my life.

  “Don’t stop,” I whisper.

  He doesn’t stop, not that I thought that he would, but I’m so close I feel like I might expire immediately. He growls, his hips moving harder and faster, thrusting into me and it only takes a few more strokes before I throw my head back and I come.

  Lawrence follows shortly after and we’re a pile of sweaty, panting people as we lie there and attempt to catch our breaths. He shoves his face into the side of my throat and I wrap my legs and arms around him tighter, holding him to me and wishing that I could stay right here in this moment forever.

  “Then stay,” he rasps, lifting his head as his gaze finds mine.

  “I want to,” I admit.

  There is a moment of silence where I try to keep him close to me. He doesn’t move, but I can tell that he’s already slipping away. This cannot last between us, no matter how badly we both want it to, and I’m under no impression that he wants this to end. But it will because he needs it to. I don’t blame him at all. I don’t hate him. I completely understand.

  “But you won’t,” he grumbles as he pushes up and I’m forced to release him.

  I don’t cry out or whimper as the emptiness consumes me. I do feel empty, too, so empty without him inside of me, knowing th
at I won’t be his wife for long after this. It’s a feeling that I wouldn’t wish on anyone at all.

  “I want to, doesn’t that mean anything?” I ask as I reach for the sheet and pull it up my body, holding it to my breasts.

  He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to me, and I wonder if he’s going to look at me at all. He just sits there in silence, not speaking, until he turns his head and looks over his shoulder. His eyes meet mine and I can see the sadness swimming in his gaze.

  I should have left yesterday. It would have been easier to bear. Not seeing him this way would have been so much better for me. But isn’t that just as selfish of me? To want to shield myself from seeing the pain I’m causing?

  I shouldn’t look away. I should force myself to look at him and only him, to see every ounce of pain that my selfishness has caused.

  “I’m sure it does to a degree, but not really, Rory.”

  Nodding my head, I cross my legs as I sit on the bed, wondering what I’m going to do next. Maybe if I tell him, he would understand and he would let this continue. That’s not fair to him though, it’s not fair to his future and the life that he could have with someone else.

  It’s just not fair, even if it’s what I want. But is it? Is this really what I want, too? Don’t I want to have a happy life? To find and keep love? To not hide?

  Just thinking about him being with someone else makes my stomach turn. He clears his throat as he watches me, as he waits for me to respond. I don’t know what to say. I want to tell him everything, I want to just spit it out, but I can’t.

  “I wish that I were a better person. I wish that I could tell you everything and that it could be so easy, like it is for other people,” I murmur.

  He watches me for a long moment, then lets out a frustrated sigh and stands to his feet. I watch his gorgeous Adonis body as he walks away from me and into the bathroom. He closes the door behind him, but he doesn’t slam it.