I drove home to my wife as fast as the speed limits would allow and apologized profusely for leaving. But she’d never been upset to begin with. She understood and blamed me for nothing, which was far more than I deserved for running when I should’ve stayed.
“We need a bigger house,” I said, pulling her into my arms.
Laura smiled against my chest. “I was thinking the same thing. Where do you want to live?”
“Somewhere closer to work, I think,” I replied, tipping my chin to touch the top of her head. “Maybe somewhere on the water.”
She sighed happily, content. “Yeah. I think we’d all like that.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
We knew the house was ours the moment we stepped over the threshold.
It had belonged to an old couple. The wife had died first, then the husband, and their two kids were trying to sell it as fast as humanly possible, if only to get on with their respective lives. It was for sale by the owner, and because of the rush in our own situation, everyone cooperated to get things handled quickly.
Two months after our offer was accepted, the keys were in our hands, and the house was officially ours, and, oh, it was beautiful.
Modest in size—four bedrooms, one full bathroom, and a powder room—but with a waterfront view from the back deck that more than made up for the lackluster size of the bedrooms.
The place needed updating. It looked old and smelled like it too. The appliances hadn’t been replaced since the ‘80s, and the shag carpet in the living room had been worn down to the backing in some areas, making theliving room look like a balding dog. We had our work cut out for us, and the amount of money we’d be dumping into the old house was enough to make me dizzy.
But I could see the lighthouse from every back window, and with a view like that, I would’ve agreed to live in a cardboard box. The water settled my mind and calmed my anxiety, nearly as much as Laura did, and with both in my life, I was destined to be relieved of my demons forever.
At five months pregnant, Laura had finally started to feel good after a first trimester of constant nausea and an almost-complete inability to sleep. She had an appetite again—and not just for food. The sex was constant; she seemed unable to be near me at all without tearing my clothes off, and I couldn’t say I minded—even if the unpredictability of her emotions was keeping me and the girls on thin ice.
One night, after Lizzie and Jane had been put to bed and I brought Laura to orgasm twice with my tongue, she grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up with a startling amount of strength.
“I need to fuck younow,” she commanded, spreading her legs wider to accommodate the width of my hips.
I didn’t have time to reply before she aligned our bodies and guided me in.
“God, where did you learn how to use your mouth like that?” she asked, kissing my neck.
It was a trick question, one not meant to be answered. In our recent years together, we hadn’t talked much about the time we’d spent apart, and I wasn’t sure itwas a good idea to start in the middle of sex … or when she was known to scream about my dirty socks on the floor or cry hysterically over a box of stale Cheerios.
So, I didn’t answer and turned my head to capture her mouth with mine, but she pressed her fingers to my lips, stopping me from coming closer.
“You’re avoiding the question,” she accused.
I stilled the movements of my hips and looked at her warily. “I mean this in the nicest, most respectful way possible. Do youreallywant to do this right now?”
In an instant, she looked as though I’d slapped her across the face, and I quickly backpedaled.
“Babe, what does it matter? Why are you even …”
From the look on her face, I was still saying the wrong thing, and I raked a hand over my chin as the mood for sex dispelled quicker than smoke in a heavy wind.
Laura shifted beneath me, sending the message that she was done, and I rolled away to lie on my side of the bed. She turned her back to me, wrapping her arm around her rounded belly, and I squeezed my eyes shut and suppressed a sigh.
Don’t let her be upset, my mind told me, but how the hell was I supposed to fix it when I didn’t even know what I’d done wrong?
I laid my hand on her bare shoulder and ran my fingers lazily up and down her soft, smooth skin. “Babe … Laura …”
“I’m so stupid,” she whispered, and I realized she was crying.
“What? No, you’re not. Why are you saying that?”
“I don’t know why I thought …” She sobbed, and I kissed the back of her neck. “I-I thought you had only been with m-me.”
