She's blinded by love, but
he can't see a thing.
Blind
Commitment
Virginia Nelson
from Secret Cravings Publishing
ISBN: 9781631056840 | AISN: B013PSCL1Y
Blurb:
Figgy
Berlin made a name for himself in the art world with his gripping use of color
and fearless use of impressionistic style in abstract art. One drunk driver
later and he's left blind--he can't see color, he can't see his work, and most
of all...he can't see his wife.
Through the terrifying days and nights of not knowing if he'd ever wake again, Mariana stayed by his side. When he fought to reclaim his body, she was there. Now he's back home and recaptured his art, but he's yet to reclaim his bride.
Can this couple find love even though he can't see how much his rejection is hurting her?
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Excerpt:
While
she’d studied his work, he’d managed to stand, and she could hear the whisper
of sound as he counted the footsteps to the window.
“Can you see the light?” she asked him.
The doctor mentioned he might get his vision back, or maybe just part of it, but it would likely never be more than light recognition. So far, he couldn’t see anything. As he’d described it in one of his chatty moods, a rarity, the accident trapped him in an endless gray fog…a hell of nothingness.
“No,” he answered. The one word answer signaled a retreat, likely ending with him lying face down on the bed and not speaking for who knew how long.
“Do you still love me?” She’d blurted the question before she could think better of it. Faced with another day or two of his emotional abandonment, she couldn’t resist asking. If he didn’t love her anymore, maybe he was right.
Maybe she should leave.
“How can you even ask me that?” He whispered the words so softly, she hardly heard him.
Wiping her hands on a cloth—he might not be able to see the painted fingerprints and streaks on everything, but she sure could—she joined him at the window. She didn’t touch him. Touching him when he’d gone into retreat tended to create more distance rather than removing it. It was like he’d hopped onboard a boat on a perfectly still lake. The closer she got to the side, the more wake she created with her swimming and the farther he drifted into uncharted waters alone.
“I can’t help but ask, Figgy. I keep telling you I’m here. I’ve told you I still love you, still want you, that nothing changed for me, but you—”
“How can you say that?” He’d spun and gripped her arms in an almost uncomfortably rough grip. “How can you even spit out those damned words? Nothing changed for you? Your husband is handicapped. I’m blind. I can’t see a thing, nothing. You lead me around like a dog on a leash—worse than a dog, because at least the dog can see where it is walking. You’ve even had to feed me. Nothing changed? Ha! I call bullshit on that notion. You had a husband. Now you have an albatross.” The agony of his words distracted her from his grip, and she leaned into him rather than trying to escape.
“You found your art again. Everyone said you’d never paint again, and you’ve proved them wrong.” Tilting her chin up, she stared into his sightless eyes, wishing she could see the recognition she’d always taken for granted.
He shook her once, but his touch had gentled, and he almost absentmindedly stroked his palms up and down her arms. Just his touch, after so long of him intentionally crafting distance between them, wakened the hunger for more of him. For what they’d had before the accident.
“Can you see the light?” she asked him.
The doctor mentioned he might get his vision back, or maybe just part of it, but it would likely never be more than light recognition. So far, he couldn’t see anything. As he’d described it in one of his chatty moods, a rarity, the accident trapped him in an endless gray fog…a hell of nothingness.
“No,” he answered. The one word answer signaled a retreat, likely ending with him lying face down on the bed and not speaking for who knew how long.
“Do you still love me?” She’d blurted the question before she could think better of it. Faced with another day or two of his emotional abandonment, she couldn’t resist asking. If he didn’t love her anymore, maybe he was right.
Maybe she should leave.
“How can you even ask me that?” He whispered the words so softly, she hardly heard him.
Wiping her hands on a cloth—he might not be able to see the painted fingerprints and streaks on everything, but she sure could—she joined him at the window. She didn’t touch him. Touching him when he’d gone into retreat tended to create more distance rather than removing it. It was like he’d hopped onboard a boat on a perfectly still lake. The closer she got to the side, the more wake she created with her swimming and the farther he drifted into uncharted waters alone.
“I can’t help but ask, Figgy. I keep telling you I’m here. I’ve told you I still love you, still want you, that nothing changed for me, but you—”
“How can you say that?” He’d spun and gripped her arms in an almost uncomfortably rough grip. “How can you even spit out those damned words? Nothing changed for you? Your husband is handicapped. I’m blind. I can’t see a thing, nothing. You lead me around like a dog on a leash—worse than a dog, because at least the dog can see where it is walking. You’ve even had to feed me. Nothing changed? Ha! I call bullshit on that notion. You had a husband. Now you have an albatross.” The agony of his words distracted her from his grip, and she leaned into him rather than trying to escape.
“You found your art again. Everyone said you’d never paint again, and you’ve proved them wrong.” Tilting her chin up, she stared into his sightless eyes, wishing she could see the recognition she’d always taken for granted.
He shook her once, but his touch had gentled, and he almost absentmindedly stroked his palms up and down her arms. Just his touch, after so long of him intentionally crafting distance between them, wakened the hunger for more of him. For what they’d had before the accident.
About the Author
USA Today
Best-seller Virginia Nelson is the hybrid published author of more than 40
novels and novellas. She is also the editor of almost 100 books/novellas for
various publishers and authors. Virginia has been a bestseller on Amazon, ARe,
Barnes & Noble, iBooks and Kobo. Her debut novel, Odd Stuff, won Best Books of 2010 from HEA. In 2015, Penthouse Prince hit the USA Today
Best-Selling list at #50. Virginia is also a single mother of three great kids,
a painter, and a student at Kent State University.
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