Love Is Louder Read Online Free PDF Page A

agitated. Silence fills the space between us as he drags his hands over his face and through his hair. I look at his mouth and miss his aggressive passionate kisses, miss how his lips settled seamlessly against mine. My eyes flicker into the hallway to the wedding picture decorating our wall as I fight the ache that threatens to overtake my heart.
    A crease forms between his eyebrows. “Brie, it’s nothing.” He stares past me into the kitchen for what seems like forever but is not even a minute. “Actually, life, work, so much shit.” His voice is tense.
    “Do you want to talk about it?” My throat constricts, and my heart pounds while waiting for his response.
    He frowns, as if he’s trying to figure out whether or not he should talk. I avoid looking into his eyes, tracing my gaze over his shoulders and arms. James moves close enough so that I can smell his delicious scent of his clean skin swirled with cologne that smells of sandalwood. He skims his warm fingers across my cheek, and I force my eyes up. I press my palm on his chest and feel his steady heartbeat. He wraps his hand around my wrist; his hold is firm and warm.
    “No. I’m tired. Tired of spending my life trying to prove myself to other people. To surpass my mother’s…everyone’s expectations and try to fix things. Everything,” he mutters, shaking his head. “There’s no fucking room for mistakes.”
    Part of me understands his urge to fix things to prove himself a success, even at the expense of his own happiness, but in turn, it’s affecting mine.
    Anxiety clenches my stomach at the obvious pressure he’s under. Something is off, and I don’t know what it is. I have to ask him since he doesn’t volunteer anything anymore. I thought I knew everything about my husband, but in the past few months, I’ve been left in the dark. James knows everything about me, even the bleak parts. He never has to ask. He’s the first person I go to.
    “It will get better.” I place my hand on his cheek.
    “I don’t feel like talking about this,” he says as he releases my hand. I’d feel a lot better if he pulls me against the hard planes of his body, tears off my clothes, clutches my hips, lifts me, and fills me with one deep thrust as he presses me against the wall. Our bodies’ slick with sweat, both of us panting for breath. I want him so desperately, but instead, I stand, feeling alone minus his touch.
    For another minute, we just stare at each other. I can tell he wants to say something, but I don’t know what. Whatever is happening between us, I wish it would stop. “Anyway, I’m going to swim a couple of laps, take a shower, and catch up on some work in the office.”
    Rather than try to speak, I nod and watch him head upstairs. I want him to be the one to reach out to me. Pressing my hands to my eyes stinging with unshed tears, I withdraw to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine.
    How do I get him to come back to me?

    I’m unable to sleep well and wake up to the reddish glow of the clock and a faint breeze caressing my skin from the open window. It’s three o’clock in the morning, and James’ side of the bed hasn’t been touched for the third time this week. I roll over and stare at the ceiling. Even though we have not done anything in the last few days, having him lying next to me gives me security. He’s the balm to my damaged fragile heart.
    My vision blurs, and my old emotions swamp me. Fear, sadness, and loneliness. All the emotions I felt before I met James, when I was rebuilding myself brick by brick. I don’t know if I have the ability to battle them all at once, again. Pushing aside the silk sheets, I head downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of water.
    The living room curtains are partly open, and the window allows for a sliver of moonlight to illuminate James stretched out on the cream sofa. Clutching the glass, I tiptoe closer, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest.
    He looks younger in his sleep, the