by Bree Dahlia
It’s her turn to snort, sounding more like gagging. “Do you actually believe the crap coming out of your mouth?” When I don’t respond, she adds, “Does Cain know about him yet?”
I throw up my hand. “Damn it, Rowan. I get enough shit at home. Please don’t give me a hard time too.”
I plop down hard on the floor with the couch to my back, my line of sight making my eyes bleed. I cannot believe Cain is wasting precious energy tearing out trivial parts of the house while this ugly-ass horsehair mutant is still allowed to live. I have the urge to rip it apart strand by strand and then take a knife to it.
“I’m sorry, Mads. That’s the last thing I want to do. I’m just… concerned.”
Her voice drips compassion, which causes my anger to fizzle, leaving me flat. Now I want to close my eyes and curl into a ball.
“I know where you’re coming from, but there’s no way you can understand the extent of what’s going on right now.”
“Yes, I do. I get it. I saw how aloof Cain was. He’s always treated you as the center of his universe, so I can imagine how much that’d throw you off when he suddenly stops. But believe me, he still loves you more than anything, even if he’s not showing it.”
I tuck my knees to my chest and begin to slowly rock. “Like I told you, what you saw was one of his good days. This isn’t about ignoring me. I’d prefer that over the constant bitching and put-downs. He complains about everything—the house, my spending, my work, my existence. I haven’t even told him I got the project yet for fear that he’ll shit all over it. It’s not a lot of money, and I don’t need him making me feel bad for accepting it.”
“None of that sounds like Cain.”
“Tell me about it.”
“And it all started after you ran into Jake, right?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
She hesitates so long I wonder if she passed out. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but could things maybe not be as horrible as you think?”
My jaw drops. “Seriously?”
“I’m not saying you’re making it up or anything, but could you be perceiving it differently? You know, to justify what you’re doing with Jake? I know how worried you were when you first found out he was back, and this could be your way of making it okay.”
I want to reach through the line and strangle her for not taking my side. But I also don’t blame her for having a difficult time believing Cain is acting like a fucking jerk. Especially to me. She’s never seen that before.
Maybe she’s onto something. Maybe this house is making me crazy. It wouldn’t be the worst idea to get our water tested. I read once about an entire family hallucinating because of strychnine in their well.
But despite what may or may not be happening, I can’t deny how much easier Jake has made my life lately.
“Do you realize how many days I would’ve never smiled at all if it weren’t for Jake? How can having a friend to help through the shitty times be wrong?”
“You’re justifying again. You know very well he’s not just a friend. He’s your ex. Your first love. That’s a huge danger zone right there, and at one time you would’ve agreed with me. Too much history complicates things. And did you somehow forget how badly it ended? If so, I can remind you.”
“Of course I didn’t forget, but you’re acting like I’m planning on leaving Cain for him.”
“And what about me? I’m your best friend. I’m the one you should be calling if you need cheering up.”
“I do call you.”
“From now on, call more.”
“Okay.” She’s making all valid points, and I kind of hate it.
“And if you really truly feel like things are that bad with Cain and they aren’t getting better, maybe you guys should go talk to someone.”
“What, like a marriage counselor?”
“Can’t hurt, right? It’s better than drifting further apart and one of you doing something you’ll regret. When was the last time you even had sex?”
“Sex? What’s that?”
“It sounds like the perfect time to go on vacation, even if it’s only for a weekend. You did say he’s better away from the house.”
“Yeah, maybe….”
“Then it’s settled. Talk to him about it tonight.”
“He’s working late tonight.”
She sighs. “Then talk to him tomorrow. Or plan it yourself and surprise him. He’ll love that. But the whole point here is to talk. To Cain. Not to Jake.”
“Okay.”
“Okay as in you’ll do it?”
“Yes, I’ll do it.”
She squeals and claps as her phone clunks to the ground. Her reaction can’t help me from feeling better. When she gets back on, she says, “Just so we’re clear, your homework assignment is to plan a romantic getaway, have crazy-hot sex, squeeze in a few sessions with a counselor to get back on track, have ten kids and fifty grandkids, and then spend the rest of your life deliriously happy.”
I laugh. “Is that all?”
“Almost, but I forgot one very important thing.”
“Which is?”
“Leave Jake in your past where he belongs.”
Fourteen
I take Rowan’s suggestions to heart, allowing her words to infiltrate deeply and give me optimism. And my biggest achievement? I ignore Jake.
It’s hard, and it hurts more than I’d like to acknowledge, but that only shows how important it is to stick to my resolve. And I won’t allow that determination to be negated because it’s only been less than twenty-four hours. It has to start somewhere.
My phone is stowed away in another room; his ringtone set up to alert me when not to answer. I changed it yesterday, shortly after Rowan’s call. As I was sitting there taking everything in, he texted: Too late? I responded with a yes and left it at that.
He’s already texted me twice today. I heard it from a distance, but unlike days past, I didn’t run and check. My loyalties lie with my husband. Cain’s the one who wanted to marry me, not Jake.
I spend hours researching the best romantic getaway I can get on short notice. I finally find a place up by Lake Superior, about three hours away, a little cabin in the woods with all the amenities for a couple on their honeymoon. Perfect.
After that’s booked, I browse through marriage counselors in the area. It’s a much more daunting task, and I don’t have the same patience. Male? Female? What type of certification? What do I know about picking one out? I figure it’s best to make the decision together anyway.
I try to draw a little while I wait for him to get home, but I end up pacing instead, making sure all the windows are closed. I enter the kitchen and rustle my chime. One thing I don’t do is cook. Why bother stressing out for nothing? I pop a handful of walnuts into my mouth and drum my fingers on the cabinet. Cain will be home soon. The plan has to work. It has to.
Jake texts again. My fingers bang harder. I would’ve just turned off the sound if I didn’t care about anyone else trying to reach me. I give it a good five minutes after the alert to go to my phone. I block his number, disregarding his messages, wondering why I didn’t think of this to begin with.
I hear the front door and my nerves rocket. At what point did my husband become a stranger? This needs to change. Tonight.
He comes into the hall, and I meet him there, giving him a hug which he loosely returns after flinching. I don’t begrudge him; I’d be thrown off guard too if he suddenly wrapped his arms around me.
“Hey, how was your day?”
“Same ole, same ole.” He pulls away and I follow him into the kitchen.
I notice him glance toward the clean table but doesn’t comment. It’s usually littered with paper and pencils. He draws a glass of water from the tap, and I want to scream, “Have bottled instead! Our well is contaminated!”
I’m paranoid and edgy and need a beer. I open the fridge. “Want one?” I ask, taking out a bottle.
“Sure.” I grab
another and elbow the door closed. He’s leaning over the island and I set it beside him. “Thanks.”
“Hungry?” I twist off the cap and take a long pull.
He shakes his head. “Had a late lunch.”
I hop up on the counter. “I’m going to the farmers’ market tomorrow. Wanna come along?”
“I have too much to do here.”
“It’s good to take a break once in a while.” My stomach curdles. I’m not sure what I was thinking, booking the cabin without checking first. How am I supposed to take him away for a whole weekend when I can’t even drag him out for a couple hours?
“And when do you suggest I do that? I happen to work all week.”
“Can you at least clear your schedule next weekend? Please?”
He knocks back his beer, glancing up at me. “Why?”
I start picking at my cuticles. “I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.”
He lifts up. “I don’t have time for your games, Maddie.”
“You don’t have time for your wife anymore?”
“Stop the dramatics already.” He puts his bottle in the sink, standing there staring out the back window. Sure, he has time for that.
As I glare at his back, I realize how spot-on Rowan was to make the suggestion. We do need counseling, and desperately.
“I think we need to get away together, just the two of us.” I’ll start with that.
“Is that right?”
He doesn’t turn around so I move closer, forcing myself into his peripheral. “Yes, Cain. We need to find some way to reconnect. Going somewhere else for a couple days could really help us.”
He chuckles. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have a job to worry about.”
Deep breath. I stab my nails into my palm. “I’m not asking for much here.”
He makes eye contact. “No, you’re not asking for much at all. Just to spend time and money doing something other than fixing up this goddamn house.”
He looks like he’s about to walk away, so I put my hand on his arm to stop him. Any other day, I’d gladly watch him leave, but this shit has to stop now.
“You know what else I think? We should go talk to someone.”
“What the fuck are you babbling about?”
I grit my teeth. “You’re not acting like yourself, and we need to figure out why. It’d be helpful to see a counselor.”
He shakes my hand away. “In other words, you’re telling me to go see a shrink. Fuck that. I’m not the one with the issue here.”
“What does that mean? And no, I’m saying both of us. For our marriage.”
“For starters, get a job. Start contributing something around here for a change. I go to work five days a week, bring in all the money, and work my ass off around this house on the weekends. I shouldn’t have to fucking do everything.”
“I tried decorating, but all you did was piss all over it.”
“Damn it, Maddie, I’m not talking about picking out curtains and shit like that. I mean real work. And it’d be nice if you lifted a finger and did some cleaning once in a while.”
“I clean all the time.” Obviously that’s another area I suck at in his eyes. “And I don’t just sit around and play all day like you seem to think. I got hired to illustrate a book. I got a contract. Real work.”
I didn’t mean to shout out my news, but I was on a roll. I’m so sick of him thinking I don’t do a damn thing in this marriage.
“And how much is this real work paying you?”
I toss up my hands. “Why is it only about the money with you lately? You were never like this before. You supported me no matter what.”
“Because you fucking did something before! Why is that so hard to understand? Don’t you get that I’m worn down from doing it all myself? Did you ever stop to think that maybe I wouldn’t be like this if you just did your share? Newsflash: it’s not all about you and what you want.”
A tiny sliver of self-doubt slithers in. Is he right? Am I really the problem? Was it selfish to quit a good-paying job to go after my dreams? But damn it, we discussed this. He was on board with it. He encouraged me, and now the bastard is throwing it back in my face.
“And you want to go on vacation.” He snickers. “Since when does someone need a break when their everyday life is a vacation?”
“Fuck you, Cain.” I stick my finger in his face. “I wanted a damn vacation for us. We can barely stand to be in the same room together. We don’t even fucking have sex anymore!”
“Is that what this is about? Because I’ve never paid to fuck, and I’m not about to start now.”
My adrenaline is through the damn chipped ceiling. It’s painful. Heated shards spike through my skin, and I want to rip it off to get some relief.
“Yeah, this is about sex, but not just sex,” I scream at him. “It’s about connecting again. Trying to go back to the way we used to be. You don’t have to be such an asshole about it.”
“And you have it in your head that we need to spend a shit-ton of money to do that?” My fists lose color. God, I want to pound him. “We can fuck right now for free.”
“Aren’t you listening? I told you it’s not just about—”
What the…?
His hands are on my hips, yanking down my shorts. My first thought is to push him away and tell him to go to hell. My second….
He spins me around and I hear the tug of a zipper. My chest takes on a new frenetic pace, throwing everything out of whack. Never in my life have I simultaneously wanted and not wanted sex so badly.
He presses down on my lower back and kicks my legs open. We’re avoiding everything important, yet this is important too. It feels good that he’s showing interest in me for a change. I need his touch, need that connection. This could be the spark that ignites our relationship again.
I’m bent over, my cheek flattened on the cold surface of the island, my shorts and underwear somewhere on the floor. His wet fingers penetrate, followed by his cock, hard and ruthless as it invades with no preamble. He doesn’t speak. I can barely see his face. My hips jar sharply against the marble, his hands digging and bruising my flesh. The impersonal fucking feels like a blade slicing me open. It stabs, and I bleed tears.
“Cain,” I whimper. As I shift to end the cruelty to my heart, he pulls out and rips up my shirt. He uses my bare back as a cheap canvas, defiling me with all that’s ugly. He doesn’t even come inside me. I have never felt so broken and expendable.
It drips off my skin as he’s zipping back up. I suck in all the emotions threatening to pour out and stand, wiping myself clean with a nearby napkin.
“You want to know the quickest way for things to go back to how they used to be?” I pick up the rest of my clothes that are near the wastebasket, not acknowledging him with a word or a look. I toss out the sullied napkin. “Stop acting like a spoiled brat and grow up. Fuck, it’s like I already have a child. Get a real job and start doing your part in this marriage. It’s not that hard to figure out, Maddie.”
He walks out, and I’ve never been so happy to see someone’s back.
Now he can go to hell.
I wait until I hear him slam the door to the outer parlor, then go upstairs and take a shower. I turn the water as hot as I can stand and stay until it runs cold. When I step out, my skin is puffy and red, but I’m still hollow inside.
I grab my pillows and a blanket and go down to the love seat where I’ll spend the night. Once I’m set up, I get my phone and unblock Jake’s number, checking the earlier ignored texts.
8:23 a.m.: Guess what?
9:41 a.m.: Aren’t you even curious what I found? I’ll give you a hint. I’m out shopping for my niece’s birthday present and I thought of you.
12:57 p.m.: I ended up buying it. Do you think she’ll like it? There’s a picture attached. It’s a stuffed toy of a mama elephant and her baby, which she’s cradling in her trunk. My heart crumbles.
4:45 p.m.: Is everything okay?
That’s the
last text before I cut off access. I can see why he’d wonder, considering our frequent contact lately.
Ding, ding, ding. Texts pop in one after another, all from Jake. I had no idea messages that came in during the blocked time would still be delivered.
7:03 p.m.: I’m starting to worry here.
8:17 p.m.: I swear I haven’t turned into a stalker during our years apart. I just have a bad feeling.
9:35 p.m.: All I need is a simple “I’m okay.” Please.
That last one was ten minutes ago. I type a reply.
I’m okay.
“I’m not okay.”
I slipped out of the house early this morning and headed for the city. I ended up downtown, but I didn’t go to the farmers’ market.
“I know. Come here.”
I let Jake pull me into his arms, and he holds me while I cry. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I showed up on his doorstep, but he’s been nothing but a godsend.
“I don’t understand why he’s changed so much.” I choke out the words, not going into detail but not hiding my pain either. “It’s like he’s a completely different man than the one I married.”
He strokes my hair, and the amount of tenderness in his touch makes me cry harder. I’m soaking his shirt, and all he does is grip me tighter.
“I’m here for you, Maddie. As long as you need me. It might not seem okay now, but it will be.”
I think of Rowan’s same assurances, swearing it’ll all be fine, but that’s where their similarities end. Unlike her, Jake isn’t telling me I’m misperceiving Cain’s behavior. I’m aware of the possible conflict of interest, but his support trumps everything. It’s exactly what I need right now.
“I love the birthday present,” I whisper, eyeing the stuffed elephants sitting on top of a wrought iron corner table. Its strength resembles the chest I’m pressed against, the arms embracing me.
He chuckles softly. “I thought you might.”
“I think your niece will too.”
“The trunk also moves to rock her baby.” He sways me in his arms. “Like this.”
My heart gets gooey, and when he kisses the top of my head, the rest of me follows. It’s all very sweet.
