The Wrong Bride (The Windsors, #1)(45)
I watch her for a moment, taking in the way her small hands are wrapped around the covers, the sound of her shallow breathing. She sounds as though she could burst into tears at any moment, all over again, but she’s trying her hardest not to. Tonight, more than ever, I wish I could be the person she’d rely on. I’d give the world to be the person she turns to when her heart aches, when it’s comfort she seeks.
I take a deep breath before pulling up the app that controls everything in the house. I’m unsure if I should dim the lights or turn them off altogether. What is it that she wants? Considering the way she just hid in the shower, I suspect it’s darkness she wants.
The lights turn off, and I lie down next to her, at a loss. It’s only been a few days since we got married, yet I’ve seen so many facets of her that I never realized existed. She’s always acted so sweet and carefree around me, but I’m now seeing both strength and weakness that I didn’t realize she carries. It only makes her more beautiful. She’s unlike any other woman I know. Those small shoulders of hers carry dozens of burdens, few of them her own.
I turn toward her and mimic her position, keeping a bit of distance between us. “Rave,” I whisper. She tenses but doesn’t reply. Instead, she tightens her grip on our covers. Fucking hell. It kills me to know she’s hurting and that I can’t make it right. The things she just told her mother… fuck. I had no idea I’d made her feel so unwanted. I may not be able to fix her relationship with her mother, but I don’t want her to feel insecure in our marriage. The fact that she does means that I failed her as her husband.
I reach for her hesitantly and place my hand on her arm. She sniffs, and for a moment I think she’ll pull away from me, but then she turns around to face me. “Ares,” she says, her voice breaking as fresh tears fill her eyes. “I… Can I have a hug?”
Fuck. The pain in her voice fucking guts me. My heart wrenches as I pull her into my arms with more force than I intended, one hand wrapping underneath her, while the other curls around her. I hug her tightly, her body flush against mine.
Raven nestles her nose against my neck and inhales shakily as her arm wraps around me. Her touch is cautious, hesitant, as though she’s scared she’s asking for too much. She’s my wife, yet she hesitates to ask for a hug. Just how uncomfortable have I made her?
“You never even need to ask,” I whisper as my hand threads through her hair, my grip tight. She holds onto me so tightly that I find myself holding her a little tighter too. She fits against me so perfectly, it’s unreal. Her breathing is uneven, as though she’s still holding back tears, and I let my fingers trail over her back, slowly, soothingly.
“Are you okay, Cupcake?”
She shakes her head and balls the back of my shirt in her hand. “I don’t think so.” She sounds so fucking hurt that I’m blinded by rage for a moment. Listening to that conversation with her mother and not interfering was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I’m so tempted to destroy every single thing that hurts her, but I can’t do that when it’s her mother.
“Talk to me, baby. Tell me what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours.”
She drags her nose up my throat and shifts in my embrace, pressing her breasts against me harder. It takes all of me to keep my attention away from how she feels against me.
“It’s just too much, Ares. I feel… I feel so unwanted. So unloved. I just… I feel like a failure, like no matter what I do, I won’t ever be what anyone wants me to be. I had to shoot for three extra hours today because I couldn’t get the campaign right, and I just… how could I fail so miserably? It’s one thing to fail at everything else in life, but my career is my escape. I’m not a rookie anymore, you know? I’m a supermodel, for God’s sake. How could I be so bad at my job? I just… today I just really needed one single win. Just one.”
She inhales shakily, as though she’s holding back tears all over again. I don’t know which photographer she worked with today, but she’ll never work with him again. Matter of fact, he’ll never work again. Not in this industry. For his sake, I hope he enjoys wildlife photography, because that’s the only avenue I’ll leave open to him.
“And then there’s my mother and you. You both want me to be something I’m not, someone I’m not, and it hurts. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not blaming you at all. I get it. I really do, but—”
“—no,” I cut her off, “you don’t get it, Raven.” I grab her tightly and turn us over so she’s on her back, my body on top of hers. Her eyes widen as I hold myself up on my forearms so I can look at her. For a moment, I see something flash in her eyes that I recognize. Loneliness. Longing. Those are feelings I know all too well, and I never want her to feel them around me.
“I don’t need you to be anything or anyone else. Not ever. You’re my wife, Raven. You. No one else. You don’t need to compare yourself to anyone else, and you don’t need to measure up to anyone else either — because whether you realize it or not, you’ve already surpassed every standard anyone has ever set for you. Just because they won’t or can’t acknowledge it doesn’t mean you’re anything short of amazing. You’re perfect the way you are. And no, I’m not saying that to placate you. I’m telling you that because it’s true. You have a sense of loyalty so strong that you married me and sacrificed the future you envisioned for yourself. You’re fucking beautiful, and you’re smart, real smart. How many women do you know that have a full-time modeling career and a thriving business? Fuck anyone who can’t see your worth, Rave. Fuck them all.”