I grab us drinks while he pulls our food out of the bags. “Yes, therapy was a venting session. How was your day?”
“Long. A bit on the shitty side. Found out one of my clients was admitted to the hospital.”
“I’m sorry. They going to be okay?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, but it just sucks that they’re there. Always makes me wonder if I missed something, or didn’t do enough.”
“You’re great at what you do, and I can say that because I know.”
His lips lift into a smile. “Thanks, Britt.” He releases a breath and changes the subject. “Excited about your birthday?”
“Yes. Do you know what will make me more excited?”
Trace leans forward. “What?”
“If you’d put your damn laundry in the basket.”
He laughs. “No, no, no.” He grabs my hand and pulls me into his lap. “You said I was forgiven. Don’t try and be mad all over again.”
“Too late,” I lie. “I’m pissed again.”
He frowns and mentally, I pat myself on the back for sounding pissed. “Britt, I,” he begins, about to go on an apology kick.
I stop him with a kiss. “Remember what you said a while back? Something about angry makeup sex?”
Trace smiles against my lips. “This is why I love you.”
“I’d believe you if you could put your laundry away.”
“I’d believe you if you could,” he pauses, thinking it over, “cook dinner once in a while.”
I laugh. “Don’t even do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like there’s not something I do that irks you.”
“There’s not.”
“Trace.”
“There’s not!” he exclaims. “I love everything about you. I love living with you. I love that you irk me.”
“So I do do something that irks you.”
“Yes, but I think my bad laundry habits irk you more.”
“Tell me what I do,” I demand.
“No, then you’ll stop. I probably won’t stop my laundry habit, and I don’t want you to stop your habit. I like us the way we are.”
My shoulders droop. “How the hell did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make me feel bad for getting annoyed that you didn’t do what I asked you to.”
“Sorry,” he laughs. “Want me to throw out some bullshit that you’re the woman and you should be doing it, especially since I cook and keep the kitchen clean?”
I narrow my eyes. “No, I do not. Better be quick and sweet talk me before my want to have sex leaves me.”
“You mean you don’t always want to have sex with me? I always want to have sex with you.”
I laugh. “Can’t say I blame you there.”
Lily interrupts us, putting her head between us with her leash in her mouth.
“Looks like someone is upset we’re late with her walk,” I say. “Let’s walk her and you can seduce me when we come back.”
Trace grins, hooks her leash to her collar, and says, “Well, let’s go.”
The day of my birthday comes and Melissa and I are currently getting our nails done. She’s just asked me what Trace got me for my birthday.
“Well, he’s paying for our girls’ night. Lunch was good. He got me a gift card to get all the fried pickles my little heart can handle and tickets to see the Zac Brown Band again.”
“Oh, that’s cool. It would’ve been pretty impossible for him to top what you gave him anyway.”
“Don’t knock his gifts. They’re good and I’m happy with them,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes. “You never did tell me how lunch went with your friend.”
“I don’t think I can call her a friend anymore.”
Melissa leans over, all interested in the juicy details now. “Why? What happened?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it. I’ve vented enough.”
She pouts her lips, making me laugh. “Please? I’m a married woman now. My life is boring,” she lies. She eventually wears me down, and I tell her what happened. Her jaw drops. “What a bitch! Like, if I caught Trace like that, yeah, I’d tell you if I thought he was cheating, but I’d never call you crazy.”
“Yeah, I was more upset about that than anything else.”
“Did you tell Trace and find out who he had lunch with?”
“No. I don’t want to rock the boat, especially if she’s lying, and there’s not a part of me that wants to question him, or tell him what she said.”
“Can’t say I blame you there. I’m too curious, so I won’t be able to stop myself from asking Ben if he knows.”
“Wait, what?” I look over at her. “No. You can’t ask him. What if it gets back to Trace?”
She rolls her eyes. “We know how to keep secrets, Brittany. If it turns out she was right, then I’ll tell you. Otherwise, my lips are sealed.”
“She’s not right.”
“I agree with you. I’m still asking Ben.”
“Topic is closed now. This isn’t what I want to talk about on my birthday.”
Melissa swiftly changes the subject, something I love her for, and the rest of our night is full of relaxation and giggles. When I come home, Lily runs over to me. However, that’s not what catches my attention. Trace immediately stands from his recliner and says, “Hey, I gotta go; Brittany’s home,” before hanging up with whomever he was speaking to.
“What did you do?” I ask suspiciously while petting Lily.
He comes over to take my hand and leads me to the kitchen. “Come find out.” On the table is a cake with chocolate icing. “While you’ve been out partying, I made you this.”
“I haven’t been partying. You made this?” The only sweet he’s ever made before is those Ritz crackers with peanut butter and marshmallows.
“Yep,” he answers proudly. “And I think there’s just the right amount of icing for you since you don’t like a lot, but not too little either. It’s a yellow cake. Do you want some?”
“Yeah. We didn’t get anything sweet.”
“Melissa is a terrible best friend. What kind of person doesn’t make sure the birthday girl eats something sweet?”
I frown. “You didn’t have anything sweet on your birthday.”
He grins and pulls me against me. “Yes, I did. You.”
Laughing, I roll my eyes and pull away from him to get a knife to cut the cake. Trace gets forks and plates. “Thanks for everything, by the way.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Who were you talking to on the phone? You were a bit rude to just hang up on them like that.”
“It was just my dad. He knew I was waiting for you.”
“You didn’t have to hang up right away, though. I could’ve waited.”
“It was fine,” he insists. “Eat your cake.”
“You did good,” I tell him.
“With the cake or everything?”
“Everything.”
He smiles. “Good. I was worried you’d be upset we didn’t do more together.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s okay.” I’ve finished my little slice of cake. “I’m going to take a shower. I’m all oily from the massage. Are you joining me?”
His smile turns into a grin as he stands, and I laugh as he bends to lift me into his arms to carry me to the shower, kissing my neck. He’s not paying attention at all, so we bump into the wall a few times. This does nothing but make me laugh. It’s been a great birthday. Much better than mine last year. I hope there are many more birthdays to come with Trace.
Brittany sits on the couch, squeezing her wrist. We’re watching Dateline, but she doesn’t seem to be paying attention. I throw a piece of popcorn at her. She frowns and looks at me.
“What’s bugging you?”
“Nothing really.”
I raise an eyebrow and wait. She’ll let it out eventually, especially if it’s something that’s really bothering her. Brittany waits until a comme
rcial before folding her legs and angling toward me.
“I know it’s ridiculous to worry about it when it’s months away, but we need to go ahead and make a decision about who we’re spending Thanksgiving and Christmas with. I need to know. It’s bothering me already. Let’s decide, so I can stop worrying about it.”
These are the kinds of anxiety issues I like. They’re easy to solve, not something too major, and once we settle the issue, she’ll be fine.
“What do you want to do?” I ask.
She squeezes her wrist again. “What’s your preference?”
“I honestly don’t have one. You can decide and I’ll be totally fine with it.”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” I say.
She takes a deep breath. “I can’t imagine not seeing my parents on Christmas day. It would be a little different if it was more than just the two of us and we were creating traditions of our own, but I’m,” she pauses for a minute and then laughs. “I’m a baby and my parents’ only child, and I need this still,” she finishes quietly.
“I get it, Britt. We can do that. It’s fine.”
Finally, I get a smile out of her. “That’s why I love you.” She leans over to give me a quick kiss before turning back to the TV, now that the show’s on again.
“What is Christmas like with your parents?” I ask. “I mean, what traditions would you want to carry on with us?”
“We used to go pick out a live tree, but once my parents got older and I moved out here, we got an artificial tree. We decorate the tree together. Mom loves to throw silver tinsel onto the tree. We would have breakfast for dinner. She would pick a highlight from my year and find an ornament based on that. That was one of my four presents. The other three were something I wanted, something I needed, and something I could wear. I would probably be overwhelmed with more presents than that since I’m so used to it,” she jokes. “I think that’s about it. What about y’all?”
I shrug. “We really didn’t have any. For some reason, Christmas was always hard on my mom. Her depression almost always got worse, so what we did always depended on how she was doing that year. The older I got, the worse that time of year seemed to be. It’s why I didn’t go home for Christmas once I came here for college.”
“Do you wish you had?” she asks quietly.
This is something I’ve always struggled with. Would it have made a difference had I gone home? Would I have wanted to be there had it not made a difference? “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I try not to think about those kinds of things.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“What was it like growing up with a parent like that?”
God, this is the night we’re going to discuss my mom? Which, there’s never going to be a “good” time to do that. I feel like this was always waiting around the corner.
I think back on my childhood. I always knew my mom had bad days. But like I once told Brittany, she was the best mom she could be. I never wanted for anything. Dad picked up any slack when Mom was real bad off.
“It was probably different than yours, but similar at the same time. I knew something was wrong with Mom, that she was sometimes sick, but she was my mom. She mostly suffered in silence, at least with me. She took care of me, supported me, loved me, and all the important things, she did. She was a good mom.” I sigh. Although I know it’s good that I’m talking about this and answering her questions, it’s such a heavy, heartbreaking topic for me. “I miss her.”
Brittany leans into me, throwing an arm over my stomach and squeezing my waist. She doesn’t say anything, not that she needs to. This works just fine for me. “What was it like to tell your dad? Do you feel better now that he knows? We never talked about that.”
“It was hard. He was devastated and worried that I’d fall into the same path as my mom. I was still uncomfortable talking about it, so that didn’t help. I had to point out the ways I’m different than Mom. I had to share with him what my struggles were and how I reacted to them. In the end, he was glad I told him, that I was getting help, and I do actually feel better now that he knows. Although, I never told him about the times when I was suicidal. That is one thing I don’t think he could handle, and it was bad enough to rehash that time with you and with my therapist. I knew I didn’t want him to know. Still don’t.”
She’s quiet for a bit before she says, “I’m glad you started opening up. I couldn’t imagine keeping it all to myself.”
I kiss the top of her head. “I’m glad, too.”
I groan as I wake up. Brittany is still asleep next to me. Rolling onto my back, I stare at the ceiling. There’s a lot that needs to be done today. The yard needs to be mowed. The house needs to be cleaned. It’s time to go grocery shopping again. Tonight we’re supposed to go see the Zac Brown Band. The thing is, I don’t want to do a damn thing other than lie in bed and breathe. That is my version of doing nothing. I need to do that today, I think.
Usually, evenings are the worst time of day for me, but sometimes, I wake up and it’s already the worst time of day. This is one of those instances. There are two options. See how I feel throughout the day to see if I complete my tasks. Or, suffer through it. I wonder how pissed Brittany would be if I canceled on her tonight. She could take Melissa. Not to mention that it would be a good thing to send her away for a bit.
Lily lifts her head to look at me. “Go on outside,” I tell her. Sometimes, when we don’t immediately get out of bed, it’s like she feels as if she needs permission to leave the room and go outside. She stands and jumps off the bed. That little bit of jostling wakes Brittany up. She rolls to face me, her eyes open and a smile on her face.
“Mornin’.”
“Mornin’. Does Melissa like the Zac Brown Band?” I ask.
Her smile turns into a quick frown. “Why? You don’t want to go?”
“It’s already a bad day, Britt. There’s a lot to do around the house, too.”
“You don’t want to wait and see how you feel later?”
I think about all I want to do and what it’ll mean to have her leave me behind and go with Melissa. “Just see if she wants to go.”
“Okay.” She gets out of bed, grabs her phone, and walks out of the room without another word or glance.
I hate that she’s so disappointed, but I can deal with that in the long run. I don’t know why I didn’t think about bailing sooner. It took me waking up, feeling like shit, to make the suggestion. Which, I’m not sure she would’ve accepted any other excuse either.
With a deep breath, I get out of bed and head to the bathroom. Shortly after, I find Brittany eating a bowl of cereal in front of the TV while the news is on.
“Melissa is going with me,” she says over her shoulder in a flat tone. Ah, I’ve pissed her off. That’s okay. Once I’ve fixed my own bowl of cereal and have joined her, she adds, “I’m going to shower and head on over. She wants to go shopping. Is there anything you want me to do around the house before I leave?”
“No, that’s okay.” Either I’ll get to it all today or tomorrow. Plus, I don’t want to push it when I’ve already pissed her off.
She gets up as soon as she’s done eating and heads for the shower. I decide I’m going to suffer through how I feel. Life doesn’t stop for bad days. As long as it sticks to one day, I’m not going to complain about it. With everything I’m juggling, especially that of which Brittany doesn’t know about, I don’t need to add more to my plate.
I do feel somewhat guilty, but I’m reminding myself to look at the bigger picture. That’s what I tell myself when I sort of lie to her the next day about hanging out with Ben. When I tell her I’m working late, but I’m not. When I tell her I’m too busy to meet for lunch. Hopefully, she won’t think too much of it. I’m still taking her out, concert aside, and I’m still doing everything else like I should.
That’s what’s important, right?
Rebecca’s words did not get to me.
I
swear, they didn’t. Or maybe I’m lying to myself. But my anxiety has slowly been racking up, growing with each time Trace either cancels on me, tells me he’s too busy with work, or comes home late. I don’t know what, but something is going on. Not knowing what it is is starting to freak me out. I was pissed when Trace bailed on the concert. More because an event like that brings out some of my anxiety and it was a present he gave me that I was expecting to experience with him. But he didn’t seem bothered that I was mad.
That’s what got to me.
Not to mention he managed to get all the chores done. He did all those things when he probably didn’t want to, but he couldn’t go to the concert with me?
I haven’t said a word about any of it, though. I feel like a broken record when I tell Mrs. Potter what’s happening, but reiterate that I trust him. I still don’t think he’s cheating, but the man is doing something he doesn’t want me to know about and that worries me. What if he’s somehow fallen into his old habits? What if something serious has happened that he doesn’t want to tell me about? What if he’s doing something he shouldn’t?
Whatever it is, I don’t like it for the simple fact that he’s keeping something from me. He’s being sneaky for some reason. It’s making my anxiety go haywire. Either he’s truly sleeping through it, or he’s ignoring me when I get up in the morning to vomit. That’s how bad it’s gotten. I’m kinda glad he’s not waking up with me. I don’t want to have to answer his question about what might be causing it. I don’t want to lie about it.
It’s been two weeks and I fear I’m going to need an increase in dosage if he keeps on. I just hope whatever it is isn’t going to burn me. Not after I’ve worked through my trust issues and have become the happiest I’ve ever been. I’ll kill him if he’s up to something that could hurt me. But even if it’s not, I need to know what it is. I don’t like this. Not one bit. On top of all of that, I haven’t felt great. I’m not sure what it is, but something feels off.
Trace is running late again. I mean, so late that I’ve cooked dinner because I was hungry, damn it. I don’t believe his excuse that he’s working. He’s a therapist at an office with set work hours. Bull. Shit. I can’t sit in this house anymore.
Making Me Sane (Sanity Book 2) Page 20
