The Road to Rose Bend by Naima Simone (best book club books of all time txt) 📕

his feet sliding over the hardwood floor. Movement caught his eye, and he glanced to his left, spotting Sydney standing in the large living room, studying the collection of framed photos on the mantel. Photos he’d refused to bring to the cottage.

Nothing had changed in two years. The same light blue curtains hung at the bay windows. The same couch, love seat and coffee table occupied one half of the room and a medium-sized piano sat in the other. Two small armchairs and an area rug claimed the space in front of the fireplace. It was like stepping into a time machine where a happily married couple still resided here. Loved here.

“I saw this house,” she announced, as if talking to herself. But she wasn’t. The tense set of her shoulders and erect line of her back telegraphed her awareness of him. “On my first day back in town, I noticed it and thought, ‘That house is a home for a happy, loving, noisy family.’ Instead, it’s like a museum,” Sydney murmured. “Or a shrine.”

That anger sparked again. Thank God.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

She didn’t turn around when she answered him but continued to stare at the photos. “Leo. Don’t be mad at her, though. I lied and told her you gave me permission to come here. You should’ve seen how happy she was when she turned over the key and offered me directions. I think your family believes this marriage is starting to heal you, that you’ll let go of the past. But we both know that’s a lie, don’t we?” She shook her head. “You’ll never let go.”

Finally, she turned around, and again, another blow slammed into him. Though she wore a calm, composed expression, her eyes... Jesus, her eyes pierced him to his soul. All the emotion absent from her face—confusion, betrayal, fury, pain—darkened her eyes. On instinct, he shifted forward, but she moved back. Away from him. And goddamn, if that didn’t stab him just as deep.

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie to you,” he objected, hating the coldness of her voice. Part of him wanted to stride over to her, clasp her to him, beg her to rage, yell, curse him. Anything but that chilly tone that gave him nothing.

But the other part... That part hungered to rage itself. To order her to leave this alone. That he didn’t have to share this with her.

She arched a dark eyebrow. “Really? We’re going to play the semantics game? A lie of omission is still a lie.”

Impatience curled within him and he slashed a hand through the air. “This house has nothing to do with you,” he snapped.

Her body flinched as if his words had struck her. Shit. He hadn’t—

Scrubbing both hands over his head, he turned away, swearing softly under his breath as he paced. Remorse rushed in, swirling in his chest. Dammit.

Abruptly, he faced her again, his hands stretched out, palms up. “I’m sorry, Sydney. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Silence roared in the room. No, not silence. Pain, vibrating between them so loud it was deafening.

“You’re right, though,” she finally murmured. “This house has nothing to do with me. Or else you would’ve told me about it before someone else did.”

“Sydney,” he whispered, but she continued as if she didn’t hear him. Or didn’t want to hear him.

“Do you know how humiliating it was to hear about a secret home you owned from Jenna Landon, of all people?” she rasped, shaking her head. For the first time since he’d entered the house, emotion leaked from her voice. Hurt, sadness. Betrayal.

“This house,” he swept an arm out, indicating the living room and foyer behind them, “wasn’t a secret. I just never thought—”

“Lies.” Her tone hardened into a steel he’d never heard from her before. “Valeria brought it up after our wedding and you cut her off. You thought of this house. I’m willing to bet you think of it every day. And every day you made the choice to hold its existence from me, because then you wouldn’t have to explain why you couldn’t move me and my child into it.” She laughed, the sound brittle...bitter. “Jenna was right about one thing. You had no intention of telling me about it because to you, I’m not worthy to grace these hallowed halls.”

Rage swelled within him again, not at Sydney, but at the idea of her not being worthy. She was...perfect. And for her to believe otherwise? Everything in him howled to move forward, to enfold her in his arms, shelter her with his body. Protect her from those sacrilegious thoughts.

But one glance at the stiffness of her frame, as if one touch would shatter her, and he didn’t give in to the impulse. One look into those beautiful but dull brown eyes, and he knew she didn’t want anything from him.

“That’s not true,” he said instead. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“Okay, then.” She notched her chin higher. Was she bracing herself for another verbal blow? Since when did she have to protect herself from him? “You tell me why. Why didn’t you tell me about your home?”

“It’s not—” He ground his teeth together, fisting his hands at his sides. Anything to keep him from reaching for her. “It’s my past. And it has nothing to do with us.”

The explanation sounded inadequate to his own ears, so he wasn’t surprised when her lips twisted into a humorless smile.

“The past has everything to do with us. It permeates us. This house you’ve held on to for two years but don’t live in and won’t let anyone else live in either. The baby you can’t bring yourself to talk about or touch. You can’t even have sex with me without a condom. It doesn’t take a genius level IQ to figure out it’s because Tonia was the only woman you’ve been with like that. You were hers first and only hers. And you’re only letting me have so much of you. But I