Bound to be Dirty

by Savanna Fox

  He nodded, then said, “Parallel,” and weighed the word. “Parallel paths don’t touch.”

  She blinked. “You’re right. That’s what’s happened to us, isn’t it?” A worry line creased her forehead.

  Parallel paths; two people who’d lost their trust in each other and maybe lost their love as well. No wonder she was frowning. But this was better than where they’d been a week ago. “But we’re together now.” He smoothed the line out with his thumb. “And there’s lots to talk about, I guess.” He turned away and took the bottle of pink champagne from the fridge. “Alcohol will probably help, right?”

  She sighed. “Yes. And food. Just because today’s been so nice, it doesn’t mean we’ve solved all our problems. Or,” she added under her breath, “any of them.”

  “I heard that. And you’re right.” This was why he liked nature; the problems were concrete and he dealt with them by action. Could talking resolve the mess they’d made of their marriage? He could arrange his jobs to have more time back in Vancouver, but would Lily ever slow down at work so they could spend that time together? And then there was the elephant in the room, the thing they’d avoided talking about since Christmas Day: whether they still loved each other. None of the talking would count for much if they couldn’t recapture the love.

  The woman she’d been this afternoon . . . He could so easily love that Lily. Yet she was also the driven doctor who rarely had time for him. How could he give his heart to that woman?

  Lily shook her head briskly. “No, I won’t be negative.”

  And that was a good attitude. He stroked her smooth forearm. “Me either.”

  She put her hand over his. “Here’s an idea, Dax. Rather than starting at the end—with the issues that are stressful to even think about, that are red flags for us—what if we go back to the beginning?”

  Yeah, the red-flag subjects only led to arguments. Intrigued, he cocked his head. “How d’you mean?”

  “Let’s talk about when we first got together. Who we were, what we wanted. How our relationship developed.”

  “That’s not a bad idea.” It’d give perspective, and a reminder of how they’d fallen in love. She used to find time for him, find joy in being with him. If she remembered how much fun that was, maybe she’d want to do it again.

  They carried their meal into the cozy living room and spread it on the battered wooden coffee table. Lily hunted through the CDs while Dax tended the fire. He always enjoyed poking logs, seeing sparks flare, inhaling the scent of burning wood. It was a cozy, homey thing, a real wood fire.

  “Madonna?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  “I played this ‘Ray of Light’ album a million times in twelfth grade.”

  Lily had suggested they start at the beginning. “You’re not saying you want to start with high school?” He eased the cork from the bottle of Pol Roger rosé. They’d splurged on French champagne.

  “Back when you didn’t even look at me?” she teased.

  “I looked, but your nose was so high in the air you never noticed.”

  “I was not a snob, Dax Xavier!” She stuck her hands on her hips and gave him a mock glare.

  “Hanging out with your ritzy friends, doing your intellectual stuff like chess club and debate club?”

  “I’d been friends with those kids all through school, chess was challenging, and I hoped debate club would help me argue more effectively with my parents.”

  “Your parents don’t engage in debates.” He handed her a glass of peach-colored champagne, fizzing with tiny bubbles. “They steamroll over the opposition.” Too late, he remembered that he’d decided to back off on the hot button issues like her parents, but luckily she didn’t jump down his throat over it.

  Instead, she said wryly, “That does pretty much describe it. Kim said the same about her parents, though they’ve proven to be more flexible than mine.”

  “Maybe she’ll give you some tips.”

  “I think mine are more stubborn. Anyhow, forget about them.” She raised her glass. “To us. To talking and . . . trying.”

  He clicked his glass against hers, and they both took a sip.

  “See?” she said. “Pink bubbly is perfect for our fireside picnic.”

  “It’s good. Makes me think of summer. Be nice to drink this on an outdoor picnic in the sun, with a touch of breeze.”

  “Consuming alcohol in a public place? Risky.”

  He winked. “Who said anything about a public place?” He lowered himself to the braided rug. “You’re married to a pilot. I could have us in the middle of nowhere in less than an hour. Would milady prefer an alpine meadow full of lupine and poppies, or the shore of a little lake that doesn’t even have a name?”

  Her face lit. “That sounds incredible. Why have we never done that?” She pulled a few cushions off the couch, tossed them down, and joined him.

  He bit back the obvious answer: Because you’re always so freaking busy. Trying to be more diplomatic, he said, “Too busy, I guess. Other priorities?”

  “I suppose. Our lives always have been busy. And separate. Those parallel courses.”

  “Yeah, since the end of that first summer.” He and Lily were such different people, but that was okay, both of them having interests they were passionate about. In the beginning, it had worked. “We used to make time to get together though, and those times were great.”

  “They were.”

  “And we’re together now, having fun. That’s a good sign.”

  “Right.” She flashed a smile, but he saw uncertainty in her eyes.

  Was he crazy to think that one weekend getaway could rekindle their love? That the embers still burned, steady and true, ready to leap into flame again? Could this time together be enough to convince her that he—that their relationship—was worth taking time away from her career? Trying not to feel discouraged, he turned his attention to the food, cutting a slice of salami and tasting it.

  Lily spread Brie on French bread, took a bite, then popped a grape into her mouth. When she swallowed, she said, “Mmm, a perfect combo.”

  No one would call him and Lily that. Not when they’d met, not on their wedding day, and not now. He’d never been a guy who gave a damn about perfect, yet here he was, married to a perfectionist.

  “So, high school,” she said reflectively. “I enjoyed it, but I was under my parents’ thumb. I had to take the courses they approved, get top marks. I could only see friends they approved of”—she shot him a wry glance—“not that anyone else was asking me out anyhow. They didn’t prohibit me from things like going to movies, but I got lectured about using my time more effectively.” She sipped champagne. “Your mom and grandparents didn’t exactly keep you on a tight rein.”

  “Nope.”

  She put down her glass. “Dax, any time I ask you about the time before we met, you won’t talk about it. I’ve respected that, but we promised to be honest with each other so I’m telling you, it makes me feel like you’re shutting me out.”

  Crap. He hadn’t meant to make her feel bad. “It’s not that. It was just a bad time.”

  “What? High school?”

  He gritted his teeth. “Everything, before that summer at Camp Skookumchuck.”

  “Then all the more reason to talk about it.”

  “I’m a guy. We handle stuff, we don’t whine about it. My childhood’s long past. Talking isn’t going to change it.”

  She leaned forward, her gaze intent on his face. “No, it won’t change it. But it will help me, and I hope help us as a couple. Our pasts are part of who we are. Dax, how can I truly understand you if a huge part of your life is a big secret?”

  Hmm. When she put it that way, it did kind of make sense. It was a very long time ago, so why was he making a big deal of it? Besides, it felt good, knowing that Lily cared enough to want to understand him. Tension eased from his shoulders. “Okay, fine. Twelfth grade. No, I wasn’t on a tight rein. My grandparents tried to set rules, but it’s
hard to stop a rebellious kid so they gave up. They said I was just like my dad and I’d end up in jail too.”

  “Dax, that’s so unfair.”

  Unfair? The story of his childhood. But sure, he could talk about it, if it meant so much to her. If it could be a step toward saving their marriage.

  “What about your mother?” she asked.

  He assembled a sandwich of French bread, salami, Brie, and sliced tomato. “She ran away with my high school dropout dad when she was eighteen. Mom and Dad, well, discipline wasn’t in their vocabulary. They lived for the moment, for pleasure.” He bit into the sandwich.

  “Sounds like a child’s dream, but it couldn’t have made for the most stable childhood.”

  He snorted. “You can say that again.”

  “Go on. Tell me more.”

  He’d never told anyone this stuff, so he had to search for words to describe his childhood. After swallowing the last bite of his sandwich, he said, “My parents never grew up. Never took responsibility for anything. Didn’t hold a job for long before they got bored, or decided to move somewhere else, or got fired. They drank too much, did drugs. Their relationship was, uh, volatile.”

  “Volatile?”

  “They said they loved each other, but they fought a lot. And made up. Loudly, in both cases.”

  “Ick. That’s no way for a kid to grow up.”

  Tell me about it. He drained his wineglass and refilled it, topping up Lily’s glass too. “It taught me things.”

  “Such as?”

  “To look after myself.”

  She gazed at him solemnly. “Because you couldn’t count on anyone else to do it.”

  This actually felt kind of good, telling Lily and having her get it. “Couldn’t trust my folks for anything. Not to put food on the table, buy me new shoes when I outgrew the old ones, show up at a parent-teacher conference.”

  “That’s awful.” She sounded outraged, thank God, rather than pitying.

  “They actually weren’t horrible people, just immature and self-absorbed. It was all about them having fun.”

  “They shouldn’t have had a child.”

  “No.” Nor should he. Thank God he hadn’t knocked Lily up when they were kids, the way his dad did his mom. “There’s a lot of things they shouldn’t have done.”

  “And after you graduated from high school, you all went your own way. That’s sad.”

  No, being with them had been sad; he’d been better off on his own. “Dad was a screwup. It wasn’t healthy, being around him, even before he went to jail. Mom was an airhead. But I guess she loved him, since she took off to live closer to the jail so she could see him.”

  “When?”

  “Spring of twelfth grade.”

  “She left you with her parents? How could she?”

  He snagged a drumstick of barbecued chicken. “Dad was more important to her.”

  “I knew you had family issues, but I had no idea how bad it was. Dax, I wish you’d told me this the summer we met.”

  “I didn’t want to think about it.” He also hadn’t wanted Lily, the princess from another world, to realize how fucked up he was. “Anyhow, yeah, Mom left. A couple weeks later I turned eighteen. Then I got suspended for cheating. Which I didn’t do. I wrote my history essay on the use of helicopters in the Vietnam War, and I guess it was pretty good. Which didn’t match up with my marks and attitude the rest of the time.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Can’t really blame folks for not believing me. I kind of was an asshole back then.”

  The corner of her mouth tipped up. “A sexy bad boy.”

  “Whatever. Anyhow, for my grandparents, that was the final straw. They kicked me out.”

  “What?”

  “Kicked me out of the house. Said they didn’t need any more of my bullshit, though they said it in fancier words.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Before you finished high school? Dax, what did you do?”

  “Thought about dropping out and working full time for the construction company. But the site manager said I should finish school. He was the only person I respected enough to take advice from. He let me stay in the trailer at the site until school ended, then the company sent me to the project at Camp Skookumchuck. And that catches you up to the point where we hooked up.” He gestured toward the chicken. “Want the other drumstick?”

  She shook her head absentmindedly. “All I knew was that you didn’t get along with your family, and that you all lost contact. I feel horrible that you didn’t feel you could share the rest with me.”

  “You’d have thought I was a total jerk, or that I was pathetic and felt sorry for me. Neither’s the way I wanted you to see me.”

  Nineteen

  Lily stared at her husband. That first summer, it had felt like they’d gotten so close, so fast. They’d shared their hearts, if not all the details of their lives. Now she realized she’d barely known Dax at all. Of course, at the age of seventeen, with her sheltered upbringing, how could she have related to the childhood he’d just described?

  “No,” she told him. “I’d have thought you were tough and resourceful and been even more impressed than I was.” She now had an idea how deeply rooted his self-sufficiency was. It was a quality she’d always admired in him, and tried to emulate.

  He ran a hand across his bearded jaw. “Huh. Now you tell me.” A grin flashed.

  “Dax, it must have been horrible. Having self-absorbed, volatile parents who didn’t look after your needs, then grandparents who kicked you out. I can’t imagine how you felt.”

  He shrugged and took a handful of olives.

  “Tell me.”

  “Tell you what?”

  “How it felt. Was it lonely? Did you feel shut out? Did you act out to get attention?”

  “Oh Jeez, Lily, it’s all in the past. Let it go.”

  “But the past affects us.”

  “You sound like a shrink.”

  “And you sound annoyed. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to provoke you.” She touched his arm. He’d given her a lot already, opening up as he’d never done before, but she wanted—no, needed—even more, if they were to have a future together. “I know you don’t like talking about feelings, but how can we know and trust each other if we don’t share?”

  He closed his eyes for a long moment and she wondered what was going through his mind. When he opened them, he said, “Fine. It was like you said. I felt like I didn’t matter, like no one cared. It sucked. So I figured, screw them, I’m gonna live my own life. Then I met you and things changed.”

  It was a bare-bones summary, but a step in the right direction. She decided not to push further. “Thanks for telling me. I wish you hadn’t kept it secret.”

  He frowned. “Yeah, that’s funny, coming from you.”

  “What are you— Oh, you mean the inheritance?” Yes, that was information she hadn’t shared with him: the fact that she’d inherited three million from her grandmother when she was sixteen.

  “You didn’t tell me until after we got married. I can’t believe you thought I was the kind of guy who’d be with a girl for her money.” The bitter edge to his voice told her this was still a touchy subject.

  Because it had been a bone of contention, she’d avoided talking about her inheritance. Just like she hadn’t pushed him to talk about his past. When he wanted to be a bush pilot, she never said she’d rather he stayed in Vancouver. This past year, she’d avoided asking him if he was cheating on her, or how he felt about their marriage, or whether he still loved her. The list went on and on. Now it was time to stop avoiding and open up.

  “I didn’t think that, Dax. Or, to be totally honest, I didn’t want to. I really wanted—needed—to believe that you loved me purely for myself.”

  “Like I said, you didn’t trust me.”

  “Hear me out. My dad had grown up with rich parents and he and Mom lectured me a lot about wealth. They said it’s hard to know who your true friends are, whether peo
ple like you or just your money. That’s why I stuck with those ‘ritzy’ friends, as you called them. We’d been friends since we were toddlers, all kids whose parents were professionals, well-off, from the same neighborhood. To this day, I never tell anyone about the inheritance. The only people who know are my family and you.”

  “Not your book club? Your colleagues?”

  She shook her head.

  “Huh.” After a moment, he said, “You know I’d have liked you better if you were poor, right?”

  The comment lightened the mood and she did a mock huff. “Oh, thanks for that.” It was probably true, though. Before he’d started making good money, he’d protested when she wanted to pay for dinner or for travel to visit him when they lived in different cities. Dax wasn’t sexist but he did have a healthy male ego. The only thing he hadn’t objected to was her using her inheritance to pay for med school, rather than racking up student loans.

  “If you weren’t one of the ritzy kids, we might’ve gotten together in high school,” he teased.

  “You’d have tossed me aside like your other girlfriends. The timing worked out the way it was supposed to for us.”

  “Guess it did at that.” He studied the array of delicacies on the coffee table, choosing a wedge of Brie and some grapes.

  “Anyhow, the main reason I kept the secret was so I could tell my parents you didn’t know.”

  His jaw tightened. “Not that it made them like me any better.”

  “They could have liked you even less.”

  “Hard to believe. They did everything they could to break us up.”

  “Dax, I know they’re rigid and heavy-handed, but they do love me. They think they know best and—” She broke off at his quick grin. “What? You think I’m the same?”