Page 64 of Merging Wright

“My sister thought she was being funny by sending me lingerie.” The black one-piece with thick straps has a deep cut between the breast panels. The negligee is more lace than silk, revealing and risqué, and still has the price tag attached because I’ve never worn it.

Mach reaches around me and pulls the sexy lingerie from the drawer, but I’m quick to grab the thin material and force it back underneath other clothing.

“You’ve been keeping a secret from me, Mrs. Wright.” His voice deepens, and his breath whispers across my neck. I hate how the pulse lower in me rachets up a beat, drumming faster, pumping harder. Even weakened, I want him. I want to feel alive, compared to this off-balanced sensation I have around him. I want to feel like I did on our wedding night. I want him to ravish me.

Screw my heart that doesn’t like the idea.

I need to be close to someone, be physical and free, and that someone is my husband standing too close to me.

“I’ll just be . . .” I point at the bathroom with more conservative clothing in hand. When I turn, Mach is still too close. Our eyes lock, and his lips tempt. He caught me off guard when he kissed me on the street the other day, but the kiss previous to that—the one where he made it clear I didn’t mean anything to him—made its mark.

I twist away from Mach, catching my breath and shutting my eyes for a second before taking shaky steps to the bathroom. My faltering has nothing to do with the condition of my body and everything to do with the man behind me.

30

Playlist: “Best I Ever Had” – Gary Allen

[Jane]

I wake during the night to find Mach staring at me. He’s seated beside the bed in a wooden high-back chair that is more decorative than functional. The frame creaks under his weight, and the cane seating crackles. His elbows are braced on his thighs while his fingers steeple before his lips.

“Hey,” I whisper groggily. Our room is dark minus dim moonlight streaming through the window. “What are you doing?”

He looks like he’s deep in thought, almost praying. Some might consider it creepy that he’s watching me, but the darkness in his eyes offers protection more than fear.

“Did I wake you?” His voice is rough, distant even.

“No.” Attempting to sit upright, I wince at the stiffness in my midsection. “What time is it?”

“Late.” Mach doesn’t bother glancing at his expensive watch. He shifts on the seat again, reaching out to cautiously press me back to the bed. His eyes focus on my body. “You need to sleep. Lay back down.”

Not making it very far in my effort to sit up, I gingerly lower back to the bed.

“What’s on your mind, Mr. Wright?” My question is as quiet as the night around us.

“I was married.” His voice deepens, rough and strained. “I was young.” His tone lifts with reflection. “Tracy was the love of my life.” Mach drops his steepled fingers and dangles his hands between his thighs. His head lowers, eyes aimed toward the floor.

The truth that she was the love of his life stings.

“We were so different. She was such a good girl, and she was Myles’s friend first. I didn’t notice her much. Too busy making trouble, never considering she might be interested in someone like me. Bastard child. Troublemaker. Always angry. Eager to move on.” Mach exhales. “Then my senior year happened.”

His head rocks slowly side-to-side. “It started as a dare at a party. She kissed me. We started sneaking around. Her dad wouldn’t have approved. I didn’t want Myles to know.” Mach glances at me. “We’re twins. We share almost as much as we don’t, and I didn’t want to share whatever Tracy and I were doing with him. I wanted something that was just for me. She was his friend but my lover. We were only having fun. I was eighteen. She was a year younger than us.”

Mach pauses, swiping a hand through his hair, before continuing. “We did the long-distance thing my freshman year of college, and then she joined me at WVU. We no longer needed to sneak around. When I was a junior, she found out she was pregnant.” He hangs his head again. “She lost the baby.”

My mouth falls open, but I hold back my gasp. I know her pain. I see his in the drawn, sorrowful expression on his face.

“I told her I’d have married her baby or not, and so we did. I was twenty-one. She was twenty. And I still had dreams of leaving this place. I did everything I could to be top of my class, earning a scholarship to graduate school. Kellogg Business School at Northwestern University, outside of Chicago.” Pride fills his voice. “I’d assumed she’d want to go all the places with me. I was wrong.”

Mach glances up at me. “She didn’t want to leave Wrightwood. Her family was here, she argued. Her friends. Myles.”

I chew my lip, watching Mach’s expression shift again. Harden a little bit.

“He hadn’t gone to college. He wanted to build. I wanted to own. He was comfortable here. I couldn’t wait to leave. He convinced her to stay.” Mach’s voice turns edgy, tight and dark.

“When I graduated undergrad, I wanted her to come with me to Chicago. I didn’t trust the distance. Nine hours was too far away. And Myles was here.”

Did Mach not trust his brother? Did he not trust his wife?