Chapter 29 I Was Missing You
I WAS MISSING YOU
Iretreated into myself, into my thoughts after my talk with Owen last night.
Holt noticed, but Mom and Dad arrived home shortly after, and like expected, they joined us.
When they left, I practically kicked Holt out with the excuse that Mabel needed a bath.
She did, in fact, need a bath. The child looked as though she’d tried to root herself into the soil with the plants.
If I’m being honest, though, I just needed some time. I needed quiet space to reflect on all that Owen had said to me.
And, like I suspected, it was a rough night with Mabel.
She woke upset. I held her in my lap as we looked out her open window at the night sky for at least an hour.
By the time she settled back into sleep, returning to my bed would have been silly.
With less than an hour to sleep, I’d have been moody and off all day.
I decided to stay up. I did, however, skip my workout in favor of peace and coffee.
I guess I got that quiet time to think, after all. The peace, however, was nowhere to be found.
I don’t feel any more clear.
I’m confused and messy. And I hate feeling any of either.
Surprisingly, for being awake since three in the morning, I’m in a race to get to the office on time now.
I feel frazzled. It was hard to dig myself out of my head after I fell into it.
Mabel woke determined to wear a dress she’d spilled vinegar on while dunking her chicken—because my child won’t eat chicken without vinegar—and I didn’t do the laundry on Sunday as usual, because I spent the day gardening.
It would have been easier to do dental work on a grizzly than it was to convince her to wear a different dress.
The workday hasn’t even begun and I’m exhausted.
I fumble my way into the office, giving Holt a quickly huffed, “Hi,” as I pass. I drop my purse before I drop myself into my chair.
Holt twists to face me where he stands at the coffee station. “An extra sugar this morning?”
“I’ve already had half a pot,” I mumble. “I shouldn’t have another.”
He turns back to the counter. “Another sugar it is.”
He stirs before carrying two mugs across the space. He hands me one.
“Thanks.”
“Why do you look like you’re returning from war?”
“I didn’t do the laundry yesterday.” He nods, but I know he has no idea what I’m talking about. He doesn’t have kids, so he doesn’t know how it piles up. I explain, “Sunday is laundry day. Mabel wanted to wear a dress she spilled vinegar on last week. It was a battle.”
“You look like you didn’t sleep at all.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Faye.”
“Mabel had a rough night, Holt.” I stab my finger into the power button on my laptop. “I’ve been up since three.”
I expect the man to wince or cringe. To flee from the woman with the children who need so much, as children do. To flee from the messy chaos of it all.
He doesn’t. He doesn’t do anything but sip his coffee.
I log in and open my email. Then, as they’re prone to do, my eyes drift to him.
He’s still studying me with that unreadable expression on his face.
I sit back in my chair, taking my over sweetened coffee with me. “Tell me about your life, Holt.”
Again, nothing to tell me I’ve caught him off guard. “What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know. Everything. You know everything about my life.”
“I don’t know everything.”
“You know a lot, Holt. More than—more than I ever thought you would.”
“Makes two of us.” I flinch. He frowns. “My life was hockey, Faye.”
“Just hockey?”
He nods. “Yeah. Pretty much.”
“I mean—you didn’t have relationships?”
“I fucked around.” Why does he sound upset? “Is that what you want to hear? How I played with women but never got serious with a single one?”
“No,” I say quietly. I feel shaken. “I guess I hoped—I wanted to hear that you were happy.”
He scrubs his hand down his face. “I was happy when I was playing.”
“And when you weren’t playing?”
“When I wasn’t playing, I was missing you.” He pushes off the desk. “And I was hating you.” He points to my laptop. “Check the emails and get ready to go. We’ve got a meeting with a client at eleven.”
“Something wrong?” Holt asks as I tap out a text on the way back to the office.
We’ve hardly spoken. He’s tense, and I’m tired.
“No. Elise wants the kids for dinner tonight. She’s grabbing Mabel from daycare now. She’ll pick up Owen from school after she grabs Mabel.”
“Just the kids?”
“I was invited, but I declined. I’m just—” I pause, searching for the right words. “I’m really done right now.”
“Done how?”
“Done as in I’m going home, pouring myself a glass of wine, and sinking into a hot bath.” I sigh, because I kind of snapped that. “I’m just so tired.” I hate how my voice rattles. “This weekend is the barbecue and Owen—”
“Owen, what?” Holt presses when I break off, too close to tears to speak.
“Nothing.” I can’t risk looking at him, so I look out the window.
“Faye?”
“What is this, Holt?” I twist toward him as he slides into the parking space next to my car.
“What are you asking?”
“I’m asking what this is? You and me? Coffee and croissants and booster seats and gardening.” Okay, I’m not just snapping. I’ve snapped. “What the hell is happening right now? I was married to your brother and now—”
The last is cut off on a sob that feels like an ax cutting clean through me. I don’t wait for him to answer before I gather my things and escape from his truck. I should go into the office, but I don’t. I climb right into my car. Without daring a look at Holt, I back out and drive away.
I cry the whole way home.