For Better or Worse

“I’m done, because I’m really not in the mood for this foolishness.” Antonio removed his shoes and walked toward the massive walk-in closet they shared. “I come home and I just want to relax, but instead I get attacked and tossed out of my bedroom—which isn’t going to happen, by the way.” He entered the closet and dropped his shoes in an empty space on the floor. “You didn’t even tell me if Celeste and the baby are okay.”

“That’s because you didn’t ask, but they’re fine, and if you’d gone with me to the hospital, you’d know that.”

He shook his head. She really knew how to push his buttons.

“Don’t try to change the subject, because I’m not done talking to you about what you did.”

“Actually, we are done talking, so drop it.”

“I will not drop it!” Cassidy screamed.

Antonio walked out of the closet and slammed the door. Taking a deep breath, he reined in his temper and kept his voice low. “I said, drop it.”

Cassidy stared at her husband, her chest heaving up and down in fury. She hated when he became super calm and pitched his voice to a low, soothing tone. In fact, he never raised his voice at her. Even when she was itching for a fight, he refused to oblige her.

Antonio walked toward the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. A flare of heat passed through her loins as she watched him undress. His movements, quick and smooth, almost graceful, revealed a large expanse of caramel-colored skin. The open shirt lay bare the tight muscles of his chest and the eight-pack abs he’d earned from rigorous regular exercise as part of a family of sports fanatics. A narrow waist tapered to slim hips and long, muscular legs. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on him.

He had to walk by her to get to the bathroom, and the smell of him filled the air, an earthy, male scent that teased her senses. She breathed him in and closed her eyes as he passed, fighting back the erotic sensations that coursed through her blood. They hadn’t made love in what seemed like forever because she hadn’t allowed him to touch her. It was the longest they’d gone without making love since they were married. Her body cried out for his touch, making it very hard to stay mad at him when all she wanted to do was climb his lean, wiry frame.

The bathroom door swung shut, which meant the conversation was over. At least for him.

Cassidy paced the floor, agitated. Antonio was keeping something from her. He’d always worked hard, and it had never been a problem between them before. She’d supported him all the way, but in the past, he’d found time to spend with her. That was no longer the case. His schedule stayed filled with activities that didn’t include her, and she couldn’t remember the last time they had a date night.

And his behavior in general was . . . different. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but he wasn’t himself. At times he seemed distracted, drifting off to a place he didn’t allow her to follow. When she tried to find out what was wrong, he responded to her probing questions with noncommittal answers.

She’d grown tired of acting as if everything was okay, smiling to friends and family when she felt as if her marriage was crumbling around her.

Her greatest fear was being one of those wives who’d overstayed her welcome and not knowing that she had. She knew all about that and had experienced the fallout firsthand as a child when her parents’ marriage fell apart.

Blinking back tears, Cassidy gathered up the bedding. If he wouldn’t sleep in another room, then she would. She marched out and went to the linen closet in the hall to exchange the regular pillowcases for the satin ones she preferred to sleep on. The spare bedroom was sparsely furnished because they were still working on the house. This particular room contained only a bed and a bureau.

She shut the door, made the bed, and then climbed in. Bone tired from the busy day and the angry tension she’d been carrying around because of Antonio, her eyes almost immediately drooped shut.

At some point during the night, she dreamed she was weightless and floated above the bed. She shifted and turned in her sleep, and that’s when she realized it wasn’t a dream. Antonio had lifted her in his arms and was moving through the dark house with long strides.

Her eyes fluttered open. “What are you doing?” she mumbled against his bare chest.

“I’m not sleeping in a different room, and neither are you,” he replied in a grim tone. “We do not sleep apart in this house.”