The other woman had been mildly distraught by his abrupt end to their relationship. They’d never promised not to date others, but her reaction told him she had assumed she was the only one in his life. He let her down as easily as possible, assuring her she was a wonderful woman who would find the right man for her. He ended all contact, not wanting to lead her on under the pretense of just being friends. Soon enough, she moved on with her life and stopped trying to contact him.
Erika became the focus of his life. He loved his work, and always would, but she helped him realize the hospital couldn’t be his life.
The night he made love to her, he cried. Erika didn’t say one belittling word. She held him in her arms, her soft touch caressing his temples until he fell asleep. She never questioned him, demanding why he had become so overwhelmed he’d sobbed for the first time since he was ten years old. Never had his emotions been so strong, or his heart so open. It broke him, bringing him to silent tears. She watched over him all night, in the morning simply asking, “Can I see you this weekend?”
The emotions had been magical, and the physical act magnificent. He’d never forget how soft her skin was, or the light scent of rich flowers on every curve of her body. His raw emotions caught her off guard, leaving her completely uninhibited as she openly showed him how good he made her feel. She made a lot of noise when she climaxed. He loved it, and it was enough to bring him over with her. “Let me know how I’m making you feel,” he encouraged when she became embarrassed. “Louder,” he demanded when he told her to say his name.
She kissed deeply, holding him tightly and filling him with her emotions. When he looked into her eyes, everything she felt for him was written there. The stark reality of knowing she cared about him so deeply made him thrust his hips harder, faster in an attempt to push his own overwhelming feelings away.
She touched him brazenly, demanding he experience as much pleasure as she was feeling. She moved beneath him, raising her hips up to meet every one of his thrusts. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper, challenging him to give her his best—not merely what he thought was good enough.
He came twice, one right on top of the other, his sperm filling the condom two times before his body stopped quaking. He was drenched in sweat, his thighs ached, his back had a major kink, but he’d never felt better in his life. His body hummed with satisfaction, radiating from his groin through each of his limbs. His heart raced, filling him with an increased supply of adrenaline.
In the midst of the frenzy, Erika placed a chaste, tender kiss on his lips…and he began to cry.
He would never forget it. Never.
The day he proposed came as a complete surprise to him.
He received a call from his mother—his father was dead. He was extremely close to his dad, so even though Brock had witnessed the devastation of the cancer, he wasn’t prepared to lose him. He rushed to his mother’s side, catching the next flight to Memphis, having only enough time to pack a bag and call off from work.
The next morning, Erika stood on his mother’s doorstep, distressed but ready to be strong for him. He pulled her inside, not knowing how much he needed her until he saw her. She didn’t wait for formal introductions. She mixed in with his extended family, doing whatever she could to make this time easier for him and his family. In the evenings, when most had gone, she lingered, doing the little things that were important but often forgotten.
“Who is she?” his mother asked the first night as Erika cleaned up the kitchen.
“She’s my girlfriend.” He’d never referred to Erika by a title because she was so much more than he could label.
“Did you ask her to come?”
He shook his head.
“She just showed up? Came all on her own?”
He nodded, his eyes wandering toward the kitchen.
“Why?”
“To be with me.”
His mother pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.
At the funeral, she appeared unobtrusively, sitting in the back of the church and respecting his time of mourning with his family. At the cemetery, after the casket was lowered in the ground and everyone had gone, Brock needed to stay and watch his father put into the ground. He needed the closure. He’d been slowly preparing for the inevitable since his father’s diagnosis, but he still had to come to terms with the reality of losing his parent. After a little while, Erika approached him, taking a seat next to him as the last corner of the casket was covered.
He took her hand, turning to her and piercing her with his wary gaze. “Will you marry me?”
She gulped, not at all expecting those words from him.
“Please.”
She blinked hard, and he knew she was looking for the words to provide him a quick out when he came to his senses and realized what he’d done.
“I love you,” he said. “I’ve never said it, but you know it. I’ve known it for a very long time.”
She watched him, stunned.
“I know my faults, and I’m a very realistic person.”
Her lips parted, but she remained speechless.
“I’m not good enough for you, but I can’t be without you. I need you to marry me, because this world isn’t tolerable without you.”
Brock remembered the day as if it had happened yesterday, and Erika was now wearing the same shocked expression she’d worn then. So he repeated himself, making his intentions loud and clear. “I’m moving back in.”
“No.”
“No?” He cocked an eyebrow, fighting an angry outburst.
“No.”
“I still live here. We’re still married.”
“You moved out. I filed for divorce.”
“I pay the bills here. I’m not signing your divorce papers.” His tone was harsh and menacing, but Erika didn’t back down.
“Why do you want to come back now?”
“This is my home.” He meant it in more than one way.
“You’re going to fight with me over property when you walked out? Unbelievable, Brock.”
“The house—”
“I don’t care about the house.” She cut him off, and she knew he hated that. She paused, then softened her voice. “Why did you leave in the first place?”
He’d avoided telling her for months. Now he was going to have the surgery, and she should know, but he looked into her soft brown eyes and couldn’t take advantage of her compassion. She didn’t deserve to be saddled with him and his sickness. He needed to leave, but he couldn’t go. He loved her, although he didn’t deserve her, and he couldn’t imagine living without her in his life.
“I made a mistake,” he said.
“Are you saying you want to come home, come home?”
“I’m not divorcing you.”
“Why not?”
He tried to think of a reasonable answer but couldn’t.
“You left me. You won’t tell me why. You won’t give me a divorce. You won’t tell me why. This isn’t you. You’re a lot of things, but obstinate and difficult you’re not. Why won’t you