Chapter Twenty-Three
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I pace to the front window, but the driveway is still empty. I drove by both The Pooch Park and Ooh La Pooch earlier, saw her car at the latter, and drove back home. I called my brother Seth, went to the gym, then deep cleaned our entire bungalow. I was about to buy flowers or chocolate, but that seemed so cliché I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I ordered from Lydia’s favorite sushi place, and it’s waiting in the fridge for whenever she gets home.
If she comes home.
I know I fucked up. Possibly even more than yesterday. I’ve at least added insult to injury.
Lydia performing a striptease was the last thing I expected to wake up to today. I didn’t know how to react. At first, I’ll admit I was a little excited. Her movements were awkward and kind of stiff, but as soon as her tits swung free, I absolutely did not care. As she continued, though, I started to realize how forced the whole thing was. She wasn’t smiling; she didn’t make eye contact. Because she clearly didn’t want to be doing it. And when she spoke to me in that awful little-girl voice, my dick just deflated. It wasn’t till she was gone that I could see her actions for what they really were: a gesture. She may have repelled rather than enticed, but she tried. Really hard .
My phone rings.
“Hey.”
“Still not home?” my brother asks, a little surprised.
“Nope,” I say, walking by the front window again.
“She’ll be back, man.” His voice is so sympathetic, I want to end the call and go back to sitting in silence. But at the same time, part of me is afraid to hang up.
“She has the dog.”
“Doesn’t he always go to work with her?”
“Usually, but...” My voice trails off. I don’t know how to put this into words. I feel like I blew my chance at everything.
“Look,” Seth says. “I’ve been thinking about what you said this morning. You are an asshole for getting on that app and taking it all the way to a hotel, and I’m glad she nailed you. But she hasn’t been prioritizing you or your marriage. You should probably both apologize. But after that, I think you just need to get over yourselves and fuck.”
“Easy for you to say,” I mutter. My little brother, the king of one-nighters, has never had a monogamous relationship in his life.
“Yeah. And still true.”
“But she doesn’t want that.” My voice breaks, and I cover my face with one hand. “It’s like she wants a roommate, not a husband. Maybe I just need to suck it up and accept that our relationship will never be what I want.”
“Anton, don’t take this the wrong way, but Lydia ...” he emphasizes her name, then stops, like he’s grasping for words. “Dude, she’s—I mean those tits alone?—”
“You can stop there,” I say in a warning tone.
“You know what I mean.” He exhales. “Sorry, man, just stating the obvious. Your wife is fuckin’ hot. And no way a girl who looks like that doesn’t want to use what she’s got.”
I close my eyes. “I’m here to tell you. It’s been ten years. She doesn’t.”
He pauses, probably trying to grasp the concept. I’m one hundred percent certain my little brother’s never been turned down for sex. But maybe that’s because he’s never hooked up with the same girl twice. He sighs, finally admitting he’s out of his depth. “You can’t live like that.”
“No. But she could.”
“Okay, look?—”
“How’s Mom?” I ask, changing the subject.
When we spoke this morning, Seth had gotten a call that she’d attacked one of the staff members at Sunny Cove while they were trying to bathe her, and they’d had to sedate her to get her calm.
“She’s good. I went and saw her this afternoon after some of the drugs wore off. She was a lot more peaceful. Even gave me a bit of a smile.”
“Do you—do you think I should come out?”
I tiptoe carefully around my feelings. Seth is the decision maker because he’s with her in Dallas. He personally deals with Mom, her caregivers, and every issue that comes up. It’s my job to shut the fuck up and not second-guess him.
“No,” he says sharply. “I think you’ve got enough shit going on with Lydia. Mom would say the same. She’d want you to stay there and fix things. You know how she feels about you guys.”
Felt , I want to say. But we can’t seem to avoid speaking about her as if she’s still actually with us. One thing I will always treasure about Lydia is that she knew my mom, was even close with her, before the dementia really took over. The two of them were like peas in a pod. Shopping together, chatting for hours. Lydia became the daughter Mom never had, and Lydia, whose own mother is a real piece of work, was happy to fill the role. By the time we got married there were already little signs Mom was struggling, but it took us all a long time—and her nearly burning the house down—to see them for what they really were. To realize she needed care and finally place her in a facility. I still can’t believe it some days. Mom is only sixty-four.
“You’re a great son, Sethie,” I mutter into the phone, trying to make light of my guilt. The fact that I’m not the one there, making sure she’s cared for myself. “She’s lucky to have you.”
“Shut up, asshole. You and Lyd made her happy when it counted. And you’re going to keep doing that once you figure this shit out. I’m just the fuckup cleanup crew.”
“Thanks for being there,” I say, and this time I’m completely sincere. “I know it means a lot to her—and me. ”
At ten minutes to seven, Heartthrob bounds through the front door, tackling me with a face full of sloppy dog kisses. And for the briefest moment, I am so grateful. For both of them. His nonstop tail wagging, the way he makes us feel more like a family, the fact that she came back at all. And the possibility that I might not have to spend the night in this silent house, alone with my regrets. I grab Heartthrob’s favorite rope toy off the floor, and we circle the coffee table in a vigorous game of tug-of-war, which I let him win when Lydia comes in and shuts the door.
“Hey,” I say, straightening. I think I owe it to her to be the first one to speak.
“Hi.” She sets her things down by the door, but I can’t get a read on her face. Is she still upset? Resigned? Optimistic?
“Do you uh...” My voice trails off as I notice the dog holding his leash in his mouth, tilting his head. “Should we maybe take him for a walk?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
We head down the sidewalk toward a park a few blocks away. There are flowers peeking out everywhere. The sun has been setting noticeably later, and the air has been warm all week. It’s the time of year when everyone starts to get excited for spring, but we shuffle along, barely lifting our feet while the dog makes efficient work marking his territory. It figures—I’ve been sitting around the house waiting to talk to her all day, and now I just keep opening and closing my mouth like a dumb fish. Nothing ever comes out.
When we reach the far end of the park, we turn back toward home. Her hair is coming loose from its bun, and she pulls out the elastic, letting it fall over one eye the way it did this morning when she stood naked and beautiful in our bedroom before everything went wrong again. My dick stirs in my pants, and I stop right there on the path, suddenly more sure of myself than I’ve been all day. “Look, Lydia?—”
Her phone rings.
She gives me a look that’s half apology, half relief, and then she answers the damn thing. Effectively cutting me off right when I was about to set everything right.
“Hello? Charlotte?”
My hands curl into fists, but I stop cold at her lawyer’s name. She keeps walking down the sidewalk without even glancing at me. Surely she’s not going to discuss a divorce right here? My pulse jumps, all the relief I felt after she came home suddenly evaporating, a heavy dread sinking into its place.
I watch the sway of her hips ahead of me, moving farther away, and my mouth goes dry. Can I even blame her? She caught me red fucking handed trying to cheat. And when she gave me a second chance I never deserved, I blew it to smithereens. I close my eyes, wishing I’d said or done anything different this morning. Yesterday. This whole week.
But then it occurs to me—Charlotte’s a business lawyer. She’s negotiated contracts, written up legal documents, and advised Lydia on a couple employee disputes, but she wouldn’t handle our personal mess. Maybe Lydia got in touch with her asking for a referral to someone who would, though. I tug on Heartthrob’s leash, increasing my pace until I fall into step right behind her. Close enough to hear her side of the conversation. I’m sure she knows I’m there. We’ll see what she’s willing to discuss.
“That’s not at all what I expected you to say,” Lydia mutters.
There’s a long silence. We reach the green space along the duck pond, and Heartthrob catches my eye, stretching his paws out in front of him and sinking his big body into a playful bow. I insert a tennis ball into his ball launcher, unclip his leash, and hurl it across the grass. He takes off after it like the whole balance of the universe depends on him.
“I...I’m going to have to think it over,” Lydia finally says. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”
She turns away. I can’t see her face, but her shoulders are tense, and my brain struggles to fill in the gaps. It’s nearly eight p.m. Lydia and Charlotte have worked together for years, but I can’t think of what could be important enough to call about outside of business hours. Unless it’s a personal favor.
Heartthrob drops the ball at my feet, and I throw it again absently .
“Okay. Let me know when and I’ll meet you at your office. Thank you again, Charlotte, for everything.”
She ends the call, staring at the dog shooting back toward us over the lawn. He reaches her, drops the ball directly at her feet, and she flings it back into the air, watching him take off again. After a couple repetitions of this, she glances over her shoulder, raising her eyebrows like she’s surprised to see me.
“So.” The corners of her mouth turn down. “How was your day?”
I part my lips. Then press them back together. She’s really not going to say a thing about our current situation or the call she just took in front of me?
I clear my throat. I don’t know how to have this conversation, but I’m also tired of beating around the bush. “Look, this morning, I wasn’t expecting?—”
“It was a mistake.” Her eyes close briefly. “I had this idea, but...it wasn’t a good one.”
I want to tell her it was . She took her freaking clothes off trying to get me aroused. I can’t remember the last time she did anything like that. I could’ve kept my mouth shut and touched her. We could’ve spent the day in bed together.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. Her eyes snap to mine, and I grimace. God, I’m going to fuck this up worse before I fix it. “Um, what I meant is, I was a jerk. I’m sorry.”
She holds my gaze for a moment, her eyes clearly stating: Yes. You were . Then she shakes her head. “It won’t happen again.”
My stomach drops. Does this mean we’re done trying? Was the call with Charlotte about us after all? What happened to seeing if we can do better? I close my eyes, wishing I could go back to this morning. Redirect her. Tell her, without being an ass, that the whole performance wasn’t necessary—she doesn’t have to act like someone else. I just want her to want me.
Unless. She really doesn’t.
Heartthrob tosses the tennis ball at my leg and whines. I open my eyes. Lydia takes the ball launcher, sending the dog racing back across the grass, and as she lowers her arm, the setting sun glints off her wedding rings. She hasn’t taken them off. She straightens and looks at me, and as she does a breeze tosses her hair, making her look fresh and carefree and completely alluring. I step forward, holding her gaze, my body absolutely buzzing for her now. I reach out, but she turns her head away again to the dog. And I have to fold my arms and clench my jaw.
Maybe this is a waste of time. Maybe I’m torturing both of us trying to hold on when she’s clearly not interested. My brother’s right about her being every straight guy’s fantasy, but I’ve done enough frustrated late-night reading to understand there are people in the world who just aren’t into sex. If the universe is cruel enough to make my wife one of them, I can’t hold it against her.
But I can’t live that way either.
I clear my throat, balling my hands into fists. “Lydia, I think?—”
“The past few days have been a lot,” she says at the same time, staring at Heartthrob’s leash.
I raise my brow. Maybe she’s reached the same conclusion on her own. Maybe she’s already made the decision for me.
“I need some time. I—I don’t want to rush this.”
No. I bite back the word, but she can’t be serious. We can’t keep dragging this out. “Ah, look, if we’re coming to an end no matter what, let’s just be done with it.”
Her eyes widen. “What?”
Okay, maybe we’re not on the same page. I glance past her toward the pink and red horizon. “It seems pretty clear we’re incompatible.”
“What makes you say that?”
My eyes dart back to hers.
She shakes her head. “Our favorite hiking trail is to Maxwell Falls. Last summer, we went for bike rides almost every night at sunset, and we had fun. I know you make lasagna when you’ve been thinking of your mom. You know exactly how to shut down my mom before she gets to me. We both enjoy listening to the sounds of crickets more than music...we both love dogs,” she says, gesturing to Heartthrob. “I don’t think it’s a stretch to say we enjoy each other.”
I sigh. “All of those things are nice, but?—”
“You’re the only person I’ve ever been with,” she whispers, her cheeks turning pink.
I step back, wondering if that was a dig about Unmatched, but her expression suggests she is just listing facts. Still, I have to call it like I see it. “What if you don’t actually want to be with anyone?”
Her face darkens from pink to red.
“Look, I’m not trying to make this all about sex...” I run my hand over my face. “It’s just...if you take that out, what you described sounds like friendship. Not marriage.”
She sits on that for a minute, taking the ball from the dog again. After securing it back in the launcher, she tosses it and turns to me. “I want to be with you. But, I don’t know, for some reason...this is difficult for me.”
Something in her voice makes me pause. “What’s difficult?”
She doesn’t speak. But with an unsteady hand, she reaches out to touch my cheek.
And my skin comes alive under her fingers. The ache, the desire, floods through my cells as soon as she makes contact. I want to lean in, grab her other hand, and pull her to me. This isn’t fair—the intensity of my reaction stirred by the simple touch of her flesh.
Her face is solemn, but when I look into her eyes—the same ones I’ve stared into the last ten years—there’s a glimmer of optimism. It’s something about Lydia that has always confounded me, but that I also admire. Her ability to keep pushing when things seem impossibly hard.
“I’d just like to give us another try.”
I open my mouth to say yes , I am here for all the trying she wants to do. Until I notice how awkwardly she’s holding her arm out to touch me. How hard she seems to have to work to maintain this touch. My thoughts drag back to her striptease this morning. The one she clearly forced and neither of us enjoyed.
If it takes this much effort for her to try , will it be worth it? For either of us?
“Okay,” I say, and before I can think too hard about it, “But let’s set a limit—thirty days.”
The tennis ball lands at her feet again, but she doesn’t move to pick it up.
I wince at the look on her face, but I need to protect us both. “Lydia, if we try, and nothing’s better in a month...I don’t think it ever will be. ”
She bites her lip like she disagrees, then withdraws her hand from my cheek and nods. “You’re right.”
It’s funny how you can almost feel the absence of someone’s touch more than their presence.
I chuck the ball one last time for Heartthrob, and as he runs for it, I close my eyes. It’s tempting to resign myself to just wait another month. There’s a good chance she’ll get busy at work and our relationship will fall by the wayside. Again. I could stick it out, take this time to get our accounts and stuff in order so the end is as smooth as possible.
But the fact that she hasn’t already moved out, filed papers, even taken off her rings after what I did to her —to us—makes it harder to just give up. Maybe I owe her that much. At least if I do this, I can move on feeling like I tried everything.
I clip the leash back on Heartthrob’s collar and we turn together back toward home, but Lydia stops suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk. “If we agree to thirty days, Anton, will you—” She stops, looking up at me with a flushed face. “Do you promise not to go back on that app?”
My throat tightens at the expression in her eyes. At the realization that, after everything that’s happened this weekend, she actually thinks I would. “Of course,” I murmur. “I promise. Never again.”