Lust in Translation (Harbour Point SEAL Series Book 1) Read online

  “No!” I shout. “I don’t want that for you!”

  How can he be so selfless? It’s wrong.

  “I don’t care what you want for me. Like I said, I only want you.”

  The therapist looks between us. Adam’s ragged breaths fill the silence. “Adam, can I talk to Kendall for a moment alone, please?” He leaves, mumbling under his breath, closing the door loudly.

  “Tell me. We’re alone,” she says, voice low.

  I can’t. Can I? “I need to know something,” I whisper.

  “You can talk to me,” she says.

  “How many people are in marriages like this? Suffering because nothing binds them anymore. I’ve changed and I’m not sure I’ll ever be what he needs.”

  “Many. Many people suffer the same fate. Some overcome it. It’s difficult and lifelong work, and others separate because they can’t find their footing.”

  “Are the ones who stay, happy?”

  She considers my question. “Some probably are.”

  “The rest? They stay together because it’s the right thing to do?”

  “They aren’t you. Your situation is different. That man out there is fighting for you. He wants this to work out. The couples that fall apart are the ones when both partners are indifferent.”

  “You’re calling me indifferent?”

  She shakes her head. “You are healing. It’s not the same.”

  “Give and take,” I say, repeating her words. I’m going to have to give if I’m going to keep him.

  “I don’t know if I want to stay. Does that make me a bad person?”

  She shakes her head. “Not at all. But you need to make a decision sooner rather than later because dragging him along isn’t fair. You’re a bad person if you don’t exhaust all options first. That means giving a bit. If there’s any hope of things working out, you need to be intimate with him. In whatever way you can both agree upon.”

  “It just scares me,” I say, looking down to the wrinkled silk. “I can’t go through that again.”

  She sighs. “When I counsel a couple after infidelity, and they want to make their marriage work, I tell them to fall back into intimacy as quickly as possible. That connection is integral in repairing the damage.” She clears her throat. “With your situation, you needed time to heal physically and mentally. No one can tell you sufficient time has passed, but the fact that you’re moving on into a new career and are seemingly finding a new groove, is making him antsy. Can you understand his feelings?”

  Completely. Utterly. My distraction just put a ticking time bomb on my marriage. Sighing, I agree she’s right. Adam comes back into the room, but refuses to say anything further. He’s upset, rightfully. He blows through the door leaving me to schedule the next appointment. The car is already running when I open the passenger door and slip inside.

  Give. Give. Give. Give. Give if you want to keep him. Our uncomfortable silence lasts the entire car ride. Entering the house, I hang my cold weather wear on the rack and lock the front door behind us. Adam is already in the kitchen opening a beer.

  “Adam,” I whisper, breath shaky. It’s been so long. The more time that passes, the more awkward and unbearable the thought of sex becomes.

  “What? I’m over talking for the night, okay? Unless you have a revelation to share, please just leave me alone.” He flops down on the sofa and turns on the television. Something he hasn’t done since I’ve known him. Adam is always too busy working. Too busy trying to make a life for us for leisurely activities.

  “Can, we, make out tonight?” My words are tentative.

  He laughs. “Sounds like you’re really hankering for that.”

  I deflate. “I’m trying to do what she told me to do.”

  He stands, approaches, towering over me. Face wilted completely. “Don’t you understand? I don’t want you to do it because she told you to do it! I want you to want to make out with me. Come through the door, see me, and not be able to keep your hands off me because you want me so bad!”

  He shakes his head, snarling. “Leave things the way they are until you figure it out, okay? Remember, you’re the reason we’re in this predicament right now.”

  My heart throbs, heavy and painful. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  His hair brushes his eyes as he shakes his head. Adam has never said anything remotely mean about the situation we’re in. He sure as hell has never placed blame on me. My whole body turns to ice. “Answer me,” I yell.

  He spins, a calculating glare dancing across his face. “It means you wanted to get married. You forced me to marry you because of the pregnancy.”

  Finally. This is happening. The irreparable sever is occurring in this moment. “You didn’t want to marry me?”

  Adam deflates. “Of course I didn’t. You know that. You remember the conversation.” He glances up to meet my gaze. “But here we are and I’m trying to honor my goddamn vows even though I feel like they mean shit to you.”

  “You could have told me this earlier. Like the day at the courthouse when we applied for the license. Or any second that passed after. Why now?”

  “Why now? Because you’re moving on, getting better, but we are,” Adam says, motioning between us, “But we are not.” He runs his hand through his hair. I see the second his anger turns to guilt. I’m not angry at him for telling the truth, I’m angry it’s not enough for him to cut his losses. Somehow him admitting he didn’t want me as his wife makes me want to be a wife he does want. That seems very messed up, but that’s par for the course in this goddamn disaster.

  “More time. I need more time, that’s all.” How are you supposed to figure out a future that is so unlike the one you initially planned? “I’m getting better and then we can get better as a couple. In our relationship. You know this is rough on me. It’s not like I love torturing myself with the what ifs”

  “How am I supposed to know that? I’m starting to think you do love torture.” Why couldn’t he bring this up an hour ago? When I had someone to help me. A professional who mediates. Adam waited purposefully. He’s a smart man. “You don’t talk to me. You tiptoe around this house. You try to be invisible. I see you. I see everything.”

  I swallow hard. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.” I shrug. He just admitted out loud that our marriage is an epic sham. I should feel something more than exhaustion. I should feel sad.

  “Go to bed.” Adam paces back to the sofa and throws himself down.

  Well, that went swimmingly. I retreat to the bedroom. I lean my head against the closed door and slide down to sit. Noel catches my eye from the dresser. “Why can’t I get anything right?” I whisper. He didn’t want to marry me, but I’m going to make him glad he did—make him regret ever speaking those words.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  KENDALL

  I SLEPT IN ADAM’S bed, but I didn’t go in the room until I knew he would be asleep. When I woke in the morning, he was already in the kitchen making breakfast for himself. I dress myself fully before joining him. Pouring coffee, I try a friendly greeting, “Morning.”

  “Yep. Morning. How did you sleep?” he asks. Adam glances up from his cell phone where he’s scrolling through the news headlines for the day.

  “Good, good. I have a long day today. Margaret said we have a department meeting at the end of the day. Don’t wait for me for dinner, okay? Order something, maybe?”

  “Sure thing, working girl.” He doesn’t mean it as an insult, but after last night’s debacle it could be taken that way. I turn away from him and grab the loaf of wheat bread to toast a piece.

  “Kendall,” he says, clearing his throat. I glance over my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’ll take a make-out session whenever you’re ready. I shouldn’t have gotten upset. I’m frustrated, that’s all. Forgive me?” A stronger woman would have packed her bags last night, but I can’t even fault Adam. I forced the marriage.

  I turn back to the toaster. “Of course. Don’t mention it.” The rods tur
n bright orange and produce a strong heat as my heart pounds against my chest. Give. Give. Give. My toast pops, but I turn from it and round the island to where Adam is perched on a stool. Autopilot. Give. I smirk. I spin his stool to face me. Laying both hands on his knees, I separate them to make room for my body. I grab his t-shirt and bring my forehead against his. Autopilot. Give. I tilt my head. I breathe into his open mouth. I bring my free hand to his head and close my eyes. My lips meet his. Breaths mingle. Tongues collide. I bite his lip and I pull away, releasing his shirt. It’s a quick performance. Autopilot. Give.

  I catch my breath when I see he bought my act. His eyes are frantic and his dick is pitching a tent. While he believed it now, I know if I do that again, we’ll end up fucking. The kiss emboldened me, though. The therapist was right in one regard. It is give and take. She didn’t say what I give him has to be real. I can give him my body. That’s what he needs as a man. My mind can be somewhere else completely. He might not even call me on my lies, he’ll just be happy I’m giving myself to him again. This is the new Kendall. “Have a good day, honey,” I coo.

  “You just made sure of that,” he replies, bringing a few fingers to his lips. “Fuck, Kendall. You’re so beautiful.” I don’t remember the last time he looked at me like this. My stomach knots and unease coils my muscles.

  “Thank you,” I say, acting coy. “You flatter me.”

  “I appreciate that,” he says, but I can tell he regrets his word choice.

  “You’re my husband. You shouldn’t have to appreciate being kissed,” I fire back.

  He shakes his head. “I do, though, Kendall. Thank you for that. I need you to know how much that meant to me.” Adam looks down to his lap. “And him.”

  His smile meets his eyes. A smile I’ll break with sharp lies. “I’ll take care of him, though. You have a good day at work. I’ll see you when you get home.”

  I nod, give him a smirk, and grab my stuff before I head out the door. I’m ready for this. I’m ready. I feel like I can take on the world. A kiss today, who knows what’s in store for tomorrow.

  The drive to work is quick and I’m settling into my emails when I hear knocks on my door. Three pounds in rapid succession. Not Margaret. She’d email me first to tell me she was coming. I call out, “Come in!”

  Leo opens the door awkwardly, shoulders raised, a cup of coffee in each hand. “I brought you one,” he says. I smile as my stomach spins with confusion. Leo is not Adam, I remind my body. He stalks toward me, balancing the full cups with precision skill.

  “Thanks,” I say in Spanish as he slides me coffee, just how I like it.

  Leo grins. I tamp back my own Cheshire smile. “Welcome,” he says, taking a chair from the table, he pulls it up to the front of my desk. “How was your night?”

  I sigh. This is where I lie. Tell him the response he expects, fine, and move on with me asking how his night was. That’s what everyone wants, right? The no confrontation answer. The easy lie. “Fine. My night was fine. How was yours?”

  In broken Spanish, he asks, “No. How was your night, really?”

  I laugh. “I’m that transparent?”

  He sips his steaming cup, nodding once. “Out with it,” he says.

  Gazing at him, I think how nice it would be to tell him the truth. An outsider without any prior knowledge of my fucked-up marriage. The therapist even knows my drama too well. I balance it with the fact that discussing my private life with him isn’t very professional, and figure we’re not in lessons yet. “Messed up. Everything at home is messed up. My marriage is broken. My therapist is tired of my bullshit. Everyone is sick and tired of me.” I laugh. “That was a lot to put on you, but you asked.”

  “I did,” Leo says. “They’re not sick and tired of you, I bet,” he says.

  I raise my brows. “Oh, they’re sick of me. The bad part is, I’m over the loss of her. Losing Noel,” I say, throat clogging. “That’s her name, by the way.”

  “It’s a beautiful name. Your love for Christmas?”

  I nod. He remembers. I got the Christmas bug from my mom. She owns an antique shop in Bronze Bay. Her storefront window display is decked to the halls every year. Helping her decorate is one of my favorite memories. “Anyway, I’ve moved past it, in my own way, just now so much time has passed between then and now, and everything is just…awkward.”

  “Awkward how?” he asks, eyes narrowed.

  Pressing my lips together, I sigh a long breath. “Adam and I got married because I was pregnant. I’m not pregnant anymore and we don’t have a baby to love and care for. To say our relationship is challenged is an understatement.” My gaze is anywhere except on his face. If I saw pity, I’d lose the strength I currently have.

  “Listen, you can talk to me about it all day long. It sounds like you need to talk to him about it, though.”

  I meet his gaze, and immediately regret it. It’s not pity, or anything I expect, it’s lust and my heart hammers faster. How can he carry on this conversation and look at me like that? “All Adam and I do is talk,” I explain. “He is finished talking. Adam wants things to go back to the way they were before.” I shake my head. “That will never happen.” How easy it is to fall back into friendship with Leo. My heart opens to him effortlessly, eager to divulge things I’m not quite ready to speak, but do anyway.

  “It sounds like you’re trying to make it work. Therapist and all. Do you really want the marriage to overcome this? Or are you sabotaging it? Because you don’t think you’re worth the effort?” he asks, and it shocks me. He holds one hand up, palm facing me, before I can argue. “I’m not judging you. Remember, I’m an expert in self-sabotage.” He smiles, recalling a memory we’re both well versed in. “Although I can still fuck everything up better than you can. Ask Aidan.”

  I run my hand through my hair, and Leo’s eyes follow the movement. I hate it and love it. He merely sees a woman. One whom he has things in common with. The simplicity of attraction. No strings. “I love my husband,” I proclaim.

  Leo pulls his lip in between his teeth and smirks with his eyes. “You sure about that, Simmons?”

  I straighten my back. “I do love him.”

  His pseudo-grin turns into a big smile. “Just because you’re married doesn’t mean you’re in love with him.” He clears his throat. “I’m not saying you’re not, but you probably need to know how many people are married and fucking hate each other’s guts.”

  “That’s awful. Why would you say such a thing?”

  He shrugs, and takes a long swallow of his coffee now that it’s cooled. As he does I watch his muscles work under the stupid uniform. I close my eyes. “We need to start our lessons,” I say, trying to drive this personal bus back on public roads. “Did you come up with anything to say?” I ask. “In Spanish?”

  “I said that because it’s the truth,” Leo says, ignoring my order. “My sister died,” he adds.

  If I didn’t feel awkward and out of place before, I do now. His mom, dad, and sister lived in Cape Cod while he was stationed in Bronze Bay. He was trying to get a transfer to the Harbour Point SEAL base as quickly as possible because his little sister had cancer and was being treated at Boston Children’s Hospital. I’m such an asshole, I didn’t even think to ask how she was. My problems consume me, I haven’t gained my empathy back yet. Here is lesson one. The most painful.

  “Oh, my God. I’m so, so sorry.”

  He shakes his head, stands, and pulls his chair back to the table—a pretense that we’re about to get to work. “It’s okay. She was suffering so much at the end that I wanted her to die. Isn’t that sick?” He swallows hard and I’m sad he has to recall this painful moment.

  “Anyway, I didn’t tell you so you’d feel bad for me. I’m telling you because my parents divorced after she died. They were so fucking miserable all those years and had only stayed together for Natalia. Her death set them both free. They’re both with new people now.”

  “That had to be tough for you. For all of
you,” I say, voice shaking as I stare at Leo’s wide back. I walk up to him and lay a hand on his shoulder. He flinches, but doesn’t meet my gaze. “I really am sorry. I’m glad Natalia isn’t suffering anymore. How are you doing? I feel awful. We’ve been talking about me and I never asked how you were doing. Not even once.”

  “Don’t worry about me, I’m a strong man. I’d rather talk about you,” he counters, sliding his cup away, and moving the tablet in front of him. “Where are we starting today, teach? You gonna tell me how to direct a ménage?”

  “You expect me to drop it just like that?”

  “It’s your job, right?”

  “Oh, now it’s my job and we’ll be professional. Fine.”

  Walking back to my desk, I grab my tablet and take a seat across from him. Huffing, I pull up a lesson and ramble off the numbers and tabs for him to click. “Got it?” I ask.

  “You’re cute when you’re pissed.” He lets out a throaty laugh and buries his hands in his hair.

  “I’d rather not talk about Natalia and personal stuff here. I was heading down to the cranberry bog off Peasant Street tonight. It was her favorite place to go when she wasn’t trapped in a hospital. I’ll talk about her all day long if you’d like to join me.”

  Cape Cod produces most of the nation’s cranberries. A bog is where cranberries are grown and harvested. It’s one of the charming things I love about this place. I shouldn’t go with Leo. I know it’s a bad idea, but Adam wants me to make friends. It’s good for me. I reply before thinking it all the way through. “Sounds good.”

  Leo’s face lights, and I look down to the screen. “Read that paragraph to me. We’ll work on pronunciation,” I say.

  He reads. I watch his mouth as he stumbles over words. I wonder if he’s in Cape Cod alone, but for his friends. Does he have a girlfriend? Or a few? Who does he talk to about Natalia if his parents are gone?

  “You’re not going to answer me?” Leo interrupts my thoughts.

  “What?” I reply.

  He tilts his head to the side. He repeats himself, in Spanish. “Did you miss me?”