You Had Me At Christmas: A Holiday Anthology(123)

His wedding ring glinted from time to time as his fingers moved on the buttons.

She swallowed and looked back at the jewelry box. And then, on a breath, she opened it and reached into the little secret compartment in the back. Beside her, Kurt’s hands went still on his buttons.

Taking the rings out, she bit her lip, looking up at him. And then she held them out to him tentatively, afraid to ask, despite everything he had said and done, still afraid to hope that much for forgiveness.

But he fisted his hands and thrust them into his pockets. “I didn’t take them off in the first place,” he said low and harshly. “If you want them back on your finger, Kai, you put them the f*ck back on. You make the choice.”

She stared at him, and then her eyes filled with tears because he was so right about that. She started to slide them onto her fingers, wedding band first.

His hand closed suddenly over both of hers, stopping the act. “But if you put them on—they stay on,” he said roughly. “You promise me—you promise me—that if ever anything like this happens again, you’ll let me take you to counseling. We can put it in writing, if you want, so I can hold the damn contract up in your face when you balk and make you stick to it.”

Kai laughed despairingly. “You can’t—I can’t put you through this again. If this happens again, you have to find someone else.”

He stared at her and then suddenly grabbed her chin, too hard, to force her to look at him. “Kai, no, I don’t. We don’t know what might happen. You might decide one day that you want to try one more time, and we don’t know how that might work out or how much it might hurt if it doesn’t. We might adopt, and something happen. One of us might get cancer. Someone might get in a car accident and have brain damage or lose a limb. We don’t know anything. We’re not the same people who couldn’t imagine much worse in our lives than maybe breaking a toe playing Frisbee. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you, God.” He flung his hand away from her chin. “That’s what I promised to love you through.”

She bent her head, her eyes stinging, so humbled by him. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “I just—I just couldn’t drag myself out of it.”

“I know. Kai, I’ve read every book there is to read on the subject. I may never feel it the same way you feel it—it hurt you so much worse than it hurt me—but I understand. I would have done anything I could to make it better. That’s why I let you go, in the end, because it was the only thing left to do. The only thing you thought would work.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, as if she could never say it enough.

“So am I, Kai. I’m sorry that I couldn’t help. I’m sorry that I couldn’t bear it for you. I’m sorry that all I did was make it hurt you so much worse, until you had to get away from me. My God, I’m sorry. Do you know how f*cking small it is, to be a man, and watch my wife be destroyed for my sake, as she tries to have my kid, and not be able to do one damn thing about it? I’m sorry. And I’m angry. And like you, I just have to get through that. To the other side. But Kai—” He stretched across the distance between them and closed both hands strongly around hers. “There’s no point in getting to the other side, if it’s not with you.”

She took a deep breath, sucking in all his strength, all his persistence. “I know. That’s one of the things that was so hard, after I started getting over the depression. Knowing I didn’t deserve you any more.” Oh, damn, there was that word again, that her support group tried to stop themselves from using. “That I’d lost you.”

He stared at her. “You don’t—deserve—f*ck, Kai. Are you kidding me? You didn’t come back to me because you didn’t think I’d take you? God, Kai. I would have crawled on my hands and knees. You were so damned brave. You tried so damned hard. I was worthless. I don’t even know what you think the word deserve means.”

Her throat knotted. “You’ve never been worthless, Kurt. Never. Never. I’m so sorry I—”

He placed his hand over her mouth. Gently this time. “I think you’ve said that enough, sweetheart. All I needed to know was that you were sorry you left me and ready to try again. Now let that go, Kai. You suffered enough, without spending the rest of your life beating yourself up for how hard the suffering was for you to handle on top of it.” His gaze ran from her face to her belly, and he hesitated, but then he curled his hand gently over her abdomen, pulling her in for a careful hug with his hand protecting her womb. “Forgive yourself,” he whispered to her hair. “Kai, sweetheart, not one single thing that happened was your fault. Not one—single—thing. Remember that, honey.”

Her mouth twisted, bittersweet and weary, but with that whisper of hope. “You sound like my support group.”

“Good, then, I’ve gotten one thing right.”

She buried her face against his chest. “Forgiveness hurts,” she admitted very low.

His hand rubbed her hair heavily. “It all hurts, honey. I would take it from you, if I could. But all I can do—all I’ve ever been able to do—is my best to share it.”

I love you so much, she thought into his chest. But the hurt of the words this time was a sweeter, gentler ache, as if a mass of toxins that had gotten caught in the idea of love had been squeezed out and rinsed clean. She stepped back enough to look into his face and touch his cheek. “Kurt. Don’t beat yourself up either. You did everything you could. I just wish—I hadn’t hurt you so much. I still don’t understand how you can be willing to try again, when you know how unhappy it can be.”