“You could have mentioned something. I would have set my alarm.” I actually felt bad that I hadn’t been up earlier to help him out. Or that I had no clue what he was talking about. I didn’t know, and that guilted me. I was his wife. I should know.
Looking up, he caught my gaze, and my brows slightly dipped as he shook his head. “No, you were tired and obviously needed the sleep,” He paused a moment, hesitating. “I heard you crying last night, and—.” No. I didn’t want him to hear that.
I wanted him to keep talking and to tell me what he was going to say, but Lila ran in holding a brush with a black tie. “Can you do my hair, mama?” she smiled. “Please.”
“On the stool.” I nodded over towards one of the wooden bar chairs. I turned back to Brody, but whatever he had begun saying was long gone. “Brody,” I urged him to continue. I think it was the first time I’d spoken in weeks.
He nodded, speaking with his voice lowered as Lila was watching us closely. “We should talk tonight. I’ll be home early, and once the children are in bed, we’ll talk.”
I looked at him. “Okay.” This was new. Relief was flooding me as his willingness to want to sit and talk.
He left for work — no kiss, no goodbye, nothing.
Just like yesterday, I took the kids to school and came home to another day of housework. It was never ending. How could two small children make so much mess in such a little time? It drove me mad at times. No one cared because they knew I would eventually clean their toys up. I felt taken for granted by my husband and even my children.
I could have taken Brody’s approach after stepping on a piece of Lego, threaten to throw the whole lot out if they weren’t kept away.
But throwing out made their father feel so guilty for yelling that he went and brought more.
I was awake with coffee, but my insides were filled with dread as I watched the clock, waiting for Brody to come home so we could discuss things. I knew what I needed to say.
I wanted us to spend more time together and maybe, just maybe try a little harder; each to make an effort, showing one another that we both needed to work on ourselves and towards each other… If only it were that simple.
As much as I wanted to say those things to him, I couldn’t.
I was pretty much ready to just give up, and I had a feeling he was too.
CHAPTER THREE
“Dave has met someone else.”
She decided this was the best way to inform me. Mid-sip into my double shot cappuccino I held in both hands, I frowned towards Cathy while ignoring the hot burn down my throat. I felt for her, having her marriage end in such a terrible way.
“I’m sorry.” I wasn’t sure what else I could say. She was clearly having a hard time coping since their marriage had fallen apart.
“It’s okay.” She managed a weak smile, her dirty blonde hair tucked over one shoulder as she lifted the silver spoon up. “Want some?”
It looked delicious. The food here was always delicious and the coffee, even better. “Yes.” I grinned.
“I’ll swap you. This is for your almond croissant.” She peered over, eying the pastry on my plate.
Laughing, “I change my mind. I’m not giving this up for anything.” I really shouldn’t be gorging on these. The rolls of my stomach would triple if I didn’t stop eating all the crap that I had been consuming of late. “Eat yours and tell me how good it tastes.”
We were sitting outside Sweetbrew on George Street, a Patisserie and Espresso Bar that never disappoints. We came here every Wednesday to have our weekly catch up coffee and whatever looked tempting and tasty. The weather was too nice to be sitting indoors now that spring had arrived.
The Launceston Mall was close by, a few short minutes’ walk to pick up some new school shoes for Noah as his others had worn in the toes. These would be his third pair this year. Cars driving by were rushing. Everyone was always so busy. I thought about taking coffee to Brody and visiting him at work, but after he had taken off so fast this morning, I didn’t want to bother.
I had gotten my hair trimmed before meeting Cathy. A good two inches were taken off, thinned out with more choppy layers. I hated the mirrors in the dressers. I don’t think anyone truly sees how ugly they are until you’re sitting in front of one of those. I couldn’t help but just stare at myself in the mirror, trying not to cry as I watched my hair fall down like the way my marriage was.
The smiles, laughter, they were all fake mess, and Brody wasn’t happy. I knew he was just as unhappy as I was.
Neither of us had been happy for so long. Was it worth just giving up for? I loved him, but it wasn’t the same love we once had. We said it out of habit. “Love you.” “Love you too.” There was no emotion, no connection to those words. I wanted to smile when I heard it. Instead, I felt nothing. He didn’t do a damn thing to make me feel that I was loved.
There was never an “I love you”; those three small words that I badly craved to hear.
I was no better. I hadn’t said that to him, either.
Watching as Cathy hungrily enjoyed the fruit flan, I couldn’t wonder if she was as happy as she appeared. Was she feeling the same as I did? She was a beautiful woman. Her hair had grown out from the curls, and she now kept them straight. Her brown eyes were unhidden from the black glasses she used to wear. I envied her, able to eat and never seeming to gain anything. We remained the best of friends since high school. She had gotten married, then unfortunately divorced, confiding in me that she found out David was having an affair. She packed their three children up and left him, only seeing him twice a week and every other weekend when they did the usual kid swap. I felt bad for both of them, especially their daughters who wanted their parents living in the same house. It became awkward at first when they separated, as Brody had been great friends with David. Cathy refused to come visit us until all contact with him had seized. Unbeknown to her, Brody still played poker with him on Fridays.
Although we were like sisters, I didn’t tell her about my marital problems. She had grown up to be quite gossipy and loved to hear juicy stories of the mothers at school when we’d wait for classes to end or morning drop off. Someone’s downfall was her knowledge gain, and I couldn’t dare spill my deepest, darkest secrets to her. I trusted her, but even I didn’t want to be spoken about. Behind our closed doors, our problems stayed unspoken.
Cathy pulled me out of my thoughts as she waved the spoon in front of me. “Did you hear me?”
I hadn’t heard a word she had spoken to me. “Sorry, I was thinking about dinner.” A lie wouldn’t hurt anybody.
“I said Dave had a new girlfriend. It’s pretty serious.” I could hear the disappointment in her voice.
Reaching over, I rubbed her hand gently. “Cath, he’s not worth it. You’ll meet someone new. Just give it time. You’ll find someone who treats you well.”
“Like Brody?” She sighed heavily. “I’m sorry. I just swear you got lucky with that man. You won’t ever have to know what it feels like to see him dating somebody younger.” Her brown eyes glassing over as she began tearing up.
The almond croissant felt lodged in the back of my throat. The pit of my stomach was knotting up as I imagined him and Kate again. The idea of them kissing or him touching her. Were they making love the way we used to? I was feeling sicker than ever. I couldn’t fix my age. We were both only twenty-seven and getting older. Would he go for someone younger and something newer? Then the thoughts of myself came to mind, who would want me?
Just like that, I became determined to kick my arse into gear and lose the weight.
Shaking my head, I steered us away from this. “Let’s talk about something else, something less depressing.”
It worked. Her lips began curling into a bright smile I knew too well. “You’ll never believe who got Botox again.”
Walking past Priceline on my way back from getting Noah a new pair of shoes from Red Herrings, I slowly came to a stop. The conversation Cathy and I had been in still
played in the back of my mind. I was always saying that I wanted to diet and get fit again. I had been so sporty growing up, wearing bikinis during summer, and enjoying myself. Now, I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing one. I walked inside, picking up a black basket and making my way down to the health aisle. My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I held the black box of celebrity slim, extra shakes, and metabolism pills. I was going to do this. I wanted to do this.
Brody had brought me a treadmill years ago after constant complaining about being fat and horrible. He had walked in on me trying a pair of jeans on which weren’t going up. I had used it no more than ten times. It’s been collecting dust ever since. What a waste of money, just sitting there unused?
Not anymore, no more pasta, no more sugar, I had to cut out the bread dipped into sauces and stop the wine. No, I’d cut back on the wine. A woman needed a glass or two after dealing with fighting children and a moody husband each day.
When Brody came home tonight, I didn’t get upset that he hadn’t noticed my haircut. I hadn’t expected him to, and I wasn’t going to bring it up. It would just start another argument, and that was pointless. I was eager to hear what he had to say in regards to the earlier comment.
If he heard me crying, did that mean he felt bad? Or was he just going to tell me to hush it up?
Stripping naked, I weighed and took my measurements, writing them down and hiding the piece of paper away from prying eyes. This was for me. I was doing this for me; to get back into the right head space and feel better about my body and the way I looked. I wanted my old confidence back. Not to live in a shadow of what I had become.
Brody’s favourite meal was homemade spaghetti with meatballs, and I made that for him tonight. What would I have to give to sit and devour a bowl of that? The smell was tempting me. The thought of drowning a piece of freshly made Turkish and olive bread into the bowl very much tempted me. Instead, I had a shake and left the kitchen to get the kid's bath ready.
Who the hell drinks dinner at five then has nothing until the next morning? I was expecting a deep migraine by the time I woke up.
I did make him his favourite dish, though. My god, what I would have given to sit and eat a bowl of those with a piece of homemade Turkish and olive bread. Instead, I had a shake and left the room to get the kids beds ready for sleep.
Who the hell drinks dinner at 5 PM and then has nothing until the next morning? I was expecting a deep migraine by the time I woke up.
I took a five-minute rest on the sofa before I got back to it. My eyes were growing heavy. Sleep wanted to welcome me back as I barely slept the previous night. As they were almost closed, I heard a loud banging, followed by Brody yelling out and then another slam. My heart pounding against my chest, I jumped up, more worried that he would attract the attention of the kids who were quietly playing in the toy room. I found him in the pantry, holding his bowl of dinner as he stared angrily at the microwave.
“What are you doing?” I practically yelled. “Do you need to be so loud?”
“It’s fucking cold.” He dropped the ceramic bowl, heavily inside the microwave and flung the door shut with a hard slap.
Oh, he wasn’t cracking the shits with me over this. I gave him a nudge aside with my elbow and pressed start. “It was hot when I had made it hours ago,” I pointed out, hissing the words angrily between clenched teeth.
“You know I don’t eat until later. It’s cold,” he growled back, looking flustered.
“Maybe you should eat earlier, then, with us as a family.” We never ate together, and I hated it.
His eyes narrowed, raising a brow. “Why not wait until I come home then?”
“Oh, Brody, I am so sorry.” My voice was heavy with sarcasm. “I forgot this household revolves around you. From now on, I’ll keep the children up late just to ensure you don’t ever have to reheat your own food.”
His eyes narrowed once again and jaw clenched. “You’re a fucking bitch. You know that.”
“And you’re a fucking bastard,” I spat back, turning around and leaving him to figure out his own damn dinner when the timer beeped. “You’re welcome.”
Unfortunately, name calling wasn’t anything new to us. We would often say those things in the heat of the moment, anything to make each other feel worthless and pathetic. Nine times out of ten, it would just make me want to pack my things and leave him. Hell, I knew he wanted to do the same.
The anger was brushed aside once we tucked the children into bed, Lila first, and then Noah who often took the longest to fall asleep. “Mama, can you read me a book?” he asked me as I walked into his room.
Brody was standing and putting the one he had just finished away on the case. “Come on, I just read you two. It's sleeping time.”
“It’s bedtime, baby. Tomorrow, I’ll read you one then,” I promised, hating to say no to him
His nose scrunched as I pulled the covers over his shoulders. “I’m not a baby.”
Leaning down, I kissed his soft cheek and whispered, “You’ll always be my baby.”
The lights were turned out, and ten minutes later, both of them were fast asleep. I turned around to see Brody walking towards his office door. So much for talking, I walked behind him and followed through the door.
My hand came up, stopping the door as it almost hit me in the face, and I pushed it back open.
“Watch it!” I growled, rubbing my hands with a frown.
“Didn’t see you there.” He shrugged, pulling out his iPhone and sitting behind his desk once again. “Come to yell some more or are you after something?”
My frown deepened as I looked at him incredulously. “Brody, you told me you wanted to talk this morning.”
He seemed to think it over, obviously forgotten about it. “Oh. Yeah, it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“What was it?” I pushed, urging him to go on. “It must have been something.”
“Mum, just wanted to come around for dinner, and I was going to ask your thoughts, but I told her no. I have too much work to do. I won’t have time. Unless, you want to go around with the kids?” His eyes still focused on his phone.
Nothing, and I mean nothing pissed me off more than when someone was having a conversation with me, and they were playing around on their mobile phone. I found it so rude and disrespectful. Walking behind his deck, I snatched the damn thing out of his hands and looked at the screen.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He was playing a game. “You’d rather play Candy Crush than listen to me?”
“Calm down, Gabriella.” Standing to take the phone back but I took a step away and held it hostage from him. “I was getting out of a game that Noah was playing earlier.”
“I’m going to go through your messages, voice mails,” I informed him. I knew it was stupid, but I was so angry and jealous. I hated being jealous for no reason. “I can’t believe you. Are you that bored with me? Come si può essere così maleducato, sconsiderato e frustrante allo stesso tempo. Mi sento come buttare questo telefono attraverso una finestra di, Brody!”
He seemed to look more amused than anything as I spoke my native tongue. Instead of yelling, he sat back down, motioning with his hands for me to go ahead and search. “Go for it. I have nothing to hide. Where is your phone? Actually, since I pay for it, I’ll just check the bill.” I couldn’t believe he just went there. That was low and incredibly hurtful. I worked hard. I just didn’t earn a cent from it.
“That’s not fair,” I said, tossing him phone back to him. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
Catching it before it fell to the ground, he narrowed his eyes. “You know I refuse to listen when you’re yelling.” He set the phone down on his desk, looking back up. “What isn’t fair is that I come home to all your made up accusations daily. You convince yourself that I’m doing something wrong, therefore, you believe it.”
He made me sound crazy. “I thought you wanted to talk about us, not your mother!” My voice was more sad than angry.
> All emotion left his face, and he swallowed. I scanned my eyes over his, watching as his Adam’s apple bobbing and clicking the pen between his fingers with his thumb. “Do you want to talk about us? I have a lot to say.”
“Then, talk to me. I don’t like avoiding and ignoring each other.” I sighed, sitting on the soft couch beside his desk. What I really wanted to say was I don’t want to fight anymore.
Brody stood, walked over to where I sat and joined me. “I don’t like it either.”
I looked up at him, still mad. “I hate it when you’re on your phone.”
With a yawn, he sat back, strong thighs parting as they stretched out. “I hate when you yell in Italian.”
“I’ll try not to do that anymore.”
Taking my hand in his with a squeeze, he pulled me closer against him. My head rested against his chest, and his fingers played with my hair. It was soothing. The urge to close my eyes and fall asleep were there. “Do you love me?”
“Yes. Do you love me?” My heart began to quicken. I adjusted my body, reaching across his torso and wrapping my arm loosely around his waist with closed eyes. I waited for him to hold me back, but he didn’t. I could feel him slipping away slowly even if wasn’t going to admit it. I knew I had to try, but so did he.
He was quiet for a moment, “I do.” He then asked. “What did you yell at me this time?”
I kept my eyes closed, leaving the part out where I had called him rude, inconsiderate and frustrating. I just said, “That I was going to throw your phone through the window.”
He chuckled, a loud laugh that rumbled through his chest and vibrated against my ear. “I’m sure that’s not all. I know you well enough to know that’s not entirely true.”
I just laughed, and at this moment, things felt a little better.
I knew better than to get my hopes up. We had this same conversation two months ago, and then months before that. We fought and then made up and fought some more and made up all over again. It was a broken record on repeat, and we were just going around in circles.
Forgotten Sweethearts: A Romance Novel Page 3
