CHAPTER ELEVEN
AUbrEE
I found out about the secret appointments by accident.
I was looking for a receipt in Tristen's home office, trying to track down the invoice for the nursery wallpaper that had finally arrived after weeks of delays.
He'd said he put it somewhere on his desk, and I was rifling through a stack of papers when a folder slipped off the edge and spilled its contents across the floor.
Medical records. Ultrasound printouts. Appointment summaries dated over the past six weeks.
Six weeks of appointments I knew nothing about.
My hands trembled as I gathered the papers, scanning each one with growing horror. October 14th, maternal-fetal medicine consultation. October 22nd, additional ultrasound due to patient anxiety. November 3rd, blood pressure monitoring. November 12th, follow-up scan requested by surrogate.
Each form had a section for accompanying persons. Each one listed only one name.
Tristen Wickham.
I sat down heavily in his desk chair, the papers clutched against my chest, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.
Six appointments. Six times my husband had gone to see our baby without me.
Six times he'd held Oakleigh's hand through medical procedures while I sat at home, oblivious, thinking the only appointments were the ones marked on our shared calendar.
The ones I attended.
The ones where I sat in the corner like a visitor while Oakleigh reached for my husband and he let her.
I heard the front door open, heard Tristen's familiar footsteps crossing the foyer. I stayed exactly where I was, the evidence of his betrayal spread across my lap.
"Aubree? You home?"
I didn't answer.
His footsteps came closer, pausing at the office door. I looked up and watched his face change as he registered what I was holding. The color drained from his cheeks. His jaw went tight. His eyes darted to the folder on the floor, then back to me.
"I can explain."
"Can you?" My voice came out flat and strange, like it belonged to someone else. "Can you explain why there are six medical appointments in this folder that I didn't know about? Six times you went to see our baby without telling me?"
"They weren't scheduled appointments. They were emergency visits."
"Emergency visits." I laughed, and the sound scraped against my throat. "Six emergency visits in six weeks, and you never thought to mention any of them?"
"Oakleigh was having panic attacks. Her blood pressure was spiking.
The doctor wanted to monitor her more closely to make sure the baby was okay.
" Tristen stepped into the office, his hands raised slightly like he was approaching a wild animal.
"I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. "
"You didn't want me to worry." I repeated the words slowly, tasting each one. "About my own child. Growing in another woman's body. You didn't think I deserved to know that there might be something wrong?"
"There wasn't anything wrong. The baby is fine. Every scan showed a healthy heartbeat, normal development, everything exactly where it should be."
"Then why the panic attacks? Why the blood pressure monitoring?"
Tristen ran a hand through his hair, his tell for when he was cornered. "Oakleigh gets anxious. You know that. She reads things online and spirals. The doctor said it was better to check and reassure her than to let her stress herself into an actual crisis."
"So you went with her. To reassure her. Without telling your wife."
"She asked for privacy."
The words landed like a slap.
"She asked for privacy?" My voice rose despite my efforts to keep it steady. "From me? The mother of the child she's carrying?"
"She said your presence made her more anxious. That she could feel your tension and it affected her blood pressure readings." Tristen's voice was pleading now, desperate. "I was trying to keep everyone calm. I was trying to protect the pregnancy."
I stood up from the chair, the papers scattering to the floor around my feet. I didn't care. I couldn't care about anything except the rage building in my chest, white-hot and suffocating.
"When did protecting our baby start meaning you stopped protecting me?"
The question hung between us, enormous and damning. I watched Tristen's face crumble, watched him search for an answer and come up empty.
"Aubree..."
"No. I want you to answer me. When did it happen? When did you decide that her comfort mattered more than mine? That her anxiety was worth addressing but mine wasn't? That she deserved to know what was happening with our child but I didn't?"
"It wasn't like that."
"Then what was it like? Explain it to me, Tristen, because from where I'm standing, it looks like you've been building a whole separate relationship with this woman. A partnership. One where I don't exist."
His face contorted with something that might have been guilt or frustration or both. "You're twisting everything. I was just trying to manage a complicated situation."
"By lying to me."
"I didn't lie."
"You didn't tell me about six medical appointments involving our child. What would you call that?"
"An omission. I was going to tell you eventually, once things stabilized."
"Stabilized." I spat the word like it tasted rotten. "You mean once Oakleigh stopped needing you to hold her hand through every minor crisis? Once she stopped calling you in the middle of the night and texting you constantly and making you feel like her personal savior?"
"That's not fair."
"Nothing about this is fair!" I was shouting now, couldn't stop myself even though I knew Oakleigh could probably hear every word from the guest suite down the hall.
"I have bent over backward for months trying to be understanding.
Trying to be patient. Trying to convince myself that all of this was normal and necessary and that I was just being paranoid. "
"You're not paranoid. I never said you were paranoid."
"You didn't have to say it. It's in every decision you make without me. Every conversation you have behind my back. Every time you choose her comfort over my peace of mind."
Tristen moved toward me, reaching for my hands, but I stepped back before he could touch me. The hurt that flashed across his face almost made me relent. Almost.
"Please," he said quietly. "Please, just be patient with me. With us. The pregnancy is almost over. A few more months and Oakleigh will be gone and we can get back to normal."
"Normal." The word felt foreign in my mouth. "What is normal anymore, Tristen? Do you even remember what our marriage looked like before she moved in?"
"Of course I do."
"Do you? Because I'm starting to forget. I'm starting to forget what it feels like to be your priority. To be the person you come to when something goes wrong. To be included in decisions about my own fucking life."
He flinched at the profanity, which only made me angrier. When had I become someone who couldn't even curse without shocking my husband?
"I know I've made mistakes," he said. "I know I've handled things badly. But everything I've done has been for the baby. For our family."
"When did it become you and Oakleigh? When did I stop being part of this family you're supposedly building?"
The question hung there, unanswered. Tristen stared at me with something like desperation in his eyes, but he didn't speak. He didn't have an answer, because there wasn't one. Or maybe the answer was too ugly to say out loud.
"I used to think we were partners," I said, my voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "I used to believe that no matter what happened, you and I would face it together. That's what marriage meant to me. Choosing each other, every single day, even when it was hard."
"We are partners."
"No, we're not. Partners don't keep secrets. Partners don't go to medical appointments behind each other's backs. Partners don't build emotional intimacy with other women while their wives sit at home wondering why they feel so fucking alone."
"I'm not emotionally intimate with Oakleigh."
"You talk to her more than you talk to me.
You comfort her when she's scared. You make decisions about our child based on what's best for her anxiety, not what's best for our marriage.
" I felt tears burning behind my eyes but refused to let them fall.
"If that's not emotional intimacy, I don't know what is. "
Tristen's face twisted with anguish. "I don't know what you want me to do. She's carrying our baby. I can't just ignore her needs."
"I'm not asking you to ignore her needs. I'm asking you to remember that I have needs too. That I'm your wife. That I should matter more than a woman you met eight months ago."
"You do matter more."
"Then act like it!" The words tore out of me with a force that surprised us both. "Stop treating me like an afterthought. Stop making decisions without me. Stop keeping secrets and then acting surprised when I'm hurt."
"I will. I promise, I'll do better."
"You've said that before. After the magazine article. After the nursery samples. After every single boundary she's crossed, you promise you'll do better, and then nothing changes."
"This time will be different."
"How? How will it be different when you can't even admit that what you've been doing is wrong?
" I stepped closer to him, close enough to see the fine lines around his eyes, the exhaustion etched into his features.
"You keep framing it as protecting the pregnancy.
But that's not what this is. This is you avoiding conflict.
Choosing the path of least resistance. Keeping her happy because her tears make you uncomfortable, while my pain gets shoved aside because I'm not dramatic enough to demand your attention. "
He opened his mouth to respond, but I cut him off.
"I have spent four years putting my body through hell trying to have a child.
I have endured needles and hormones and procedures that made me feel like a science experiment.
I have lost three babies, Tristen. Three.
And I have carried that grief in silence because I didn't want to burden you with my pain. "
"You've never been a burden."
"Haven't I? Because lately it feels like I'm just an obstacle. Something to be managed and soothed and worked around so you can focus on keeping Oakleigh calm."
The tears finally came, sliding down my cheeks despite my best efforts to hold them back. I wiped them away angrily, hating myself for showing weakness.
"I love you," I said, my voice breaking. "I love you so much it terrifies me. But I don't know how much longer I can do this. I don't know how much longer I can watch you choose her over me and pretend everything is fine."
"I'm not choosing her over you."
"Then prove it. Stop the secret appointments. Stop the middle-of-the-night phone calls. Stop treating her like she's the center of this family and I'm just someone who happens to live here."
Tristen reached for me again, and this time I let him. His hands cupped my face, his thumbs wiping away the tears still streaming down my cheeks.
"I'll do whatever you need," he whispered. "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."
"I need you to see what's happening. Not because I told you, but because you actually looked. I need you to set boundaries with her that don't crumble the second she cries. I need you to be my husband again."
"I am your husband. I've always been your husband."
"Then start acting like it."
I pulled away from his touch and walked out of the office, leaving him standing there among the scattered appointment records.
I didn't know if anything would change.
I wasn't sure I believed it could.
But I'd said what I needed to say, and now the choice was his.
I just prayed he'd finally make the right one.