He glanced out on the deck. Nope. No sign of her. Man, this was growing old, playing hide and seek, looking for her. Maybe she was asleep. Or maybe she wasn’t here. She’d probably gone to her Aunt Angela’s next door and was complaining about him. Not that he could blame her. Because while he might be able to lift impressive weights, she was the one who was really strong. He was weak, definitely the weaker Christian right now.
“Sarah?”
He went up the stairs. After that workout he really needed a shower.
But when he opened the door to the bathroom, he discovered through the steam that Sarah was once more crouched on the bottom of the bathtub, her sobs muffled by the running water of the shower overhead.
“Sar?”
She didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge him. Oh no, something must be really wrong.
“Sarah?”
He reached in, turning off the shower taps, getting his sleeve wet. “Princess?”
He grabbed her towel, wrapping it around her as the sobs continued. “Princess, what’s wrong?”
She didn’t face him, didn’t answer for the longest time.
Had she gotten more bad news? A call from the doctor?Lord, help her, he prayed.
She sucked in a shuddery breath, then her breathing steadied, like she was trying to get it under control.
He tucked the towel around her and gently scooped her up, cradling her against his chest. He tugged free another towel to keep her warm, and moved to the low, sturdy chair in the bathroom as he cradled her close.
Her wet hair trickled water down his shirt. He barely noticed, too intent on this beautiful, sad woman who was his wife. “Sweetheart, I love you.”
She turned then, pressing her damp face into his neck.
Moisture slid down his skin, but it felt hot, like tears. How could he have thought her strong? She was as good as him at playing pretend. When she started shivering, he gently rubbed her back. “Sar, I love you so much. Please tell me what’s wrong.”
The wet tendrils of her hair swung as she shook her head.
His heart wrenched. He could barely remember a time when Sarah hadn’t wanted to talk to him. “Sar, I’m sorry. Please tell me what I can do.”
She gulped, then lifted her head. Her face was blotchy, her eyes red-rimmed.
His heart grew sore. Oh, he hated her feeling this way.
She studied him, searchingly, until he felt he could no longer hide.
“What is it?” he whispered.
“Dan, I can’t do this.” Her breath shuddered. “I love you, but it feels like you don’t love me anymore. You might say it now, but you haven’t been treating me like you do.”
His gut wrenched. Yeah, he could understand why she’d think that.
“I can’t take this coldness from you anymore. What is it? What have I done that makes you dislike me so much?”
Huh? He didn’t dislike her at all! “Sar—”
“No.” She shook her head. “Here we are, coming up to our third wedding anniversary and you don’t even act like you want me around. You don’t even seem to want me anymore.”
Yeah, their sex life had certainly taken a beating in the past year. From the bliss of being newly married, the pregnancies and losses meant she’d gotten so sick and tired she couldn’t. Her work also made her tired, which coupled with his busy schedule of late games and away matches and his depression in recent months had meant he hadn’t wanted to. Their pre-marriage counselling had suggested that maintaining a healthy sex life was important, as it worked like glue to keep them together. They certainly needed more glue.
“I know you’re still sad about the baby, but honestly, what did I do wrong?”
Nothing. That was the problem. He sighed. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
