12. nix
NIX
A heavy sigh falls from my lips as I open another email in the quiet of the dark kitchen.
There’s no way to get all of my work done during regular nine-to-five hours, but I’m determined to give Abbi all of my attention and have the backyard ready for Prue’s wedding.
I realize I’m spreading myself thin, but what else can I do?
I still have a business to operate, and until I can find more employees, this is the way it has to be.
I’m so fucking tired, which is ironic considering I struggle to sleep when I go to bed.
It doesn’t help that I can’t focus for shit at the moment, so it takes twice as long to do a simple task, or I have to do a job twice to fix a fuck-up I’ve made.
I shake my head and dig my fingers into my closed eyes to stave off a headache and clear my mind.
I’ll do anything to save my marriage, even if that means spending my nights at my laptop to keep on top of things.
I read the email twice, and still, some details don’t register properly.
Toggling over to the office calendar, I double-check the dates and then check the availability of staff.
I think we can swing enough guys to make this job work, but I’m too tired to be certain.
I fucked up last week and double-booked Len on a bodyguard job for an upcoming starlet while she was in the city for her press tour when he should have been working with Akerman on another job.
Luckily, Gabe stepped in and supported Akerman, but I can’t afford to keep fucking up.
My company’s reputation is at stake, and I’ve sacrificed too much to have it tank now.
I feel her before I look up from my screen. Her closeness makes my breath catch, and I lower the lid of my laptop, unwilling to ignore her ever again. I can sort out the job tomorrow. The calendar can wait. Abbi can’t.
When I lift my eyes, she’s leaning against the doorjamb with her arms crossed beneath her breasts, pushing them up high. Without a bra, I can’t miss the way her nipples pebble in the cool of the early morning hours. I push away from the table and head toward her. “What are you doing up?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” she responds, ignoring my question.
Tension tightens the muscles at the back of my neck, so I reach up and squeeze them, tilting my head from side to side. “Needed to catch up on some work.” I shrug, hoping she’ll drop it.
She’s been quiet again since last week, more introspective after her breakdown in my lap.
I felt her pull away even though she said she was willing to give me a second chance, giving me whiplash.
Not gonna lie, her silence has cut deep and eroded the hope I was holding onto that we could find our way back to each other.
I’m on shaky ground, and I fear one wrong move could be catastrophic.
I push down my uncertainty and move close enough to tangle my fingers with Abbi’s.
It’s something we always used to do—a way to always be connected.
It’s something that’s fallen by the wayside over the last several years.
Some of the tension falls from my shoulders when she squeezes my fingers instead of pulling away. It’s a small win that I’ll hold close.
She straightens and shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep. It happens more often than not these days.” I’ve often heard her up in the middle of the night, grabbing a glass of water. I thought nothing of it, but there must be a reason. Maybe it’s because she always has so much to do around here.
I tug her across to the kitchen island and drag out a stool. “Sit. I’ll make you some hot chocolate. Maybe it’ll help.”
While Abbi gets comfortable, I set out the ingredients and equipment I need, then work methodically to make the warm drink. Within a few minutes, I slide a cup across the counter to her, and she takes it, offering me a small smile and quiet thanks.
“Oh, by the way. I’ve set up automatic debits for our bills, so you don’t need to worry about them anymore.
” I grab the marshmallows out of the pantry, grab my cup, and take a seat beside her.
“And I’ve also set up a regular shopping order that will be delivered every Friday night.
I’ve added you to the app so you can add whatever you need. ”
She stops and looks at me as if she doesn’t understand what I’m saying, but then her lips widen a little and my heart stutters at her smile. “Why did you do all that?”
I shrug. “To save you some work. I realize how much you’ve been doing around here with no help from me. I figured this would take some things off your plate.”
She reaches for the marshmallows, seemingly thinking something over. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” A quiet laugh huffs over her lips. “I don’t know why I didn’t think to do that myself.”
“Sometimes we’re too busy to think of ways to make things easier for ourselves. We automated the payments for our bills at work, so I figured I could do the same here.” I sip my hot chocolate, hopeful that Abbi can see that I’m trying to share the load.
She nods her agreement as she takes two marshmallows, dropping them in her drink, and I do the same.
Then she pinches another between her fingers and pops it into her mouth.
The icing sugar coats her lips, and the temptation to lean forward and kiss it off is almost too much.
I find my body leaning close to her and consciously have to focus to pull myself away.
I peel my focus away from her mouth. “Tell me why you can’t sleep?” I ask, hoping she’ll open up to me.
One shoulder rises and falls as she stares down into her hot chocolate. “Perimenopause. Hot flashes, night sweats, the regular three a.m. restless wake up,” she rattles off as if her experience is nothing.
“How long has this been going on?”
She glances at me, and the disbelief in her eyes cuts me deep. “About three or four years. I’ve lost count. This is just my life right now. There’s not much I can do about it except ride it out.”
My chest caves in as if she’s punched me in the gut.
Three or four years and I had no idea. I’m so out of touch with my wife that I didn’t know she was going through perimenopause.
What in the actual fuck? I squeeze the tension in my shoulder.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” There must be something that can help.
She holds up her cup with a ghost of a smile. “This helps.”
“If there’s anything I can do, let me know. I want to help,” I tell her.
She studies me for a moment, then nods once. “Sure.” But her agreement sounds empty. I doubt she’ll share.
We fall into silence. I don’t know what Abbi’s thinking, but the only thought running on repeat in my mind is what a shit husband I’ve been. My head’s been so far up my ass that I was completely unaware of what Abbi’s dealing with.
“Nix?” Abbi’s soft voice draws my attention back to her.
When I drag my eyes up, I find her dark eyes studying me. “Yeah?”
“Are you okay? You look tired.”
I straighten in my seat. “I’m fine,” I answer, then blow across the top of my mug as if I didn’t just lie to my wife.
Her brows dip low over her eyes, creating deep creases between them, and she scoffs. “Don’t lie to me. The dark circles under your eyes have their own dark circles.” She looks at my laptop over my shoulder, then back at me. “If you’re having trouble sleeping, working won’t help that, you know.”
I laugh without a hint of humor. “I haven’t been to bed yet. I’m trying to catch up on work.”
“Nix! It’s three a.m.,” Abbi admonishes.
“I fucking know what time it is,” I grunt. “I haven’t been to bed before four a.m. all week because Gallagher’s been out of action. I’ve had to take his place in the field. This is the only time I have to keep on top of things.”
Abbi gasps. “Why didn’t you say something?
You’ve been coming home early and cooking dinner and working on the backyard.
As well as working out ways to make life easier for me around here.
” She looks around us as if she’ll find the answer somewhere.
“You could have caught up with your work then and still gone to bed at a reasonable time.”
“Because I don’t want to go back on my promise, Abs.
” She looks at me blankly, her mouth drawn tight.
“I promised to leave work at work and to do better at being present for you.” Not that she’s made it easy this week, but I’ve stuck to my end and been here.
Been available. I’m trying to be consistent to regain her trust. It’s been difficult when I’ve itched to check emails and messages, but I’ve done it.
Done it for her. For us. But this is the price I pay. Staying up all hours to catch up.
Her mouth falls open. “You should have said something,” she murmurs, waving her hand toward the kitchen table and my laptop. “I don’t want you to work this late and make yourself so tired that you’ll fall asleep behind the wheel of your car. What good will that do anyone?”
I feel like my brain’s going to explode. “What difference would it make to say something? The work needs to be done, and this is the only time I have available.”
“I would have understood that you needed to work,” she says.
“Would you, though?” The words are out of my mouth before I think them.
But it’s a fair question. She’s made it clear she despises my work and the time it takes away from her and our family, and I completely understand where she’s coming from.
I was dedicating too much time. Time I’ll never get back.
She steals her gaze from mine, and silence falls between us, heavy and thick like the early morning fog that often sweeps through the city. I’m almost tempted to take the question back. To apologize. To soothe the hurt that swept over her features because of my thoughtless words.
I’m floundering.
We’ve never been so distant.
It’s impossible to have a conversation without it going sideways. It reminds me of my time overseas, where our lives depended on choosing the placement of each goddamn footstep for fear of being blown up. I hate that our marriage is so volatile that any wrong word could destroy it.
I reach across for her hand, but she slides it away and into her lap. “Ab—”
“No, you’re right.” She glances at me. “No need to apologize for asking an honest question.” She shifts on her stool. “Do what you need to do so you don’t have to work all night. Okay?”
“But I don’t—”
She cuts me off. “It’s fine.”
“I promised you,” I counter.
“I know you did. But sometimes things happen that get in the way,” she whispers and lifts her mug to her quivering lips.
“I don’t want to lose you, Abbi.” She smiles at me, but it’s sad and empty. “I love you.”
Her eyes soften. “And I love you. But sometimes it isn’t enough. It’s nobody’s fault. It’s just the way it goes sometimes.” She shrugs as if she didn’t just rip my beating heart from my chest. “Sometimes what we want and the partner we have are no longer compatible.”
I shake my head, anger at Abbi simmering beneath my skin.
“I don’t believe that for one minute, and I don’t think you believe it either,” I grumble.
“I’m not giving up that easy and neither should you.
” I point to my closed laptop. “I’m prepared to make sacrifices for us, Abbi, and you shouldn’t settle for anything less.
” Jerking my head toward her mug, I tell her, “Now, drink up and go to bed. I still have work to do.”
Silence simmering with animosity falls between us, and it takes every cell in my body to stay where I am and not return to my laptop.
I know I’ve done wrong by Abbi. I understand I’ve hurt her, and I’m certain I’ve done more damage tonight.
I’m at a loss as to how to find solid ground with my wife.
I never would have imagined we’d be as distant as we are now.
My skin prickles with discomfort, and my heart aches with loneliness.
Hopelessness sinks in as the realization settles over me that this may very well be the end of my marriage.