46. Nik
Nik
December
“Nikki, can we at least talk about it?” Shane follows me into the apartment and closes the door behind him.
I can’t get out of my coat fast enough. There’s not enough air, and I’m roasting alive. Tossing it on the back of the couch, I let out a sharp exhale and spin to face him. “Fine. Talk.”
“No—I—” He groans, pushing his fingers into his eyes before resting his hands on his hips. “You can’t just decide something major like that without talking to me. Shouldn’t I have a say too?”
I rear back. “In if I have kids?” My hair whips around me as I turn, traipsing to the kitchen. “Last I checked, that’s my choice to make.”
He slips off his shoes at the door before moving toward me, his eyes softening when he says, “No. In if we have kids. We’re married. We should have talked about that first.”
I’ve always been a sucker for Shane when we fight. Anytime I look at him, my heart just wants to cave. And it’s worse now because he’s so kind and gentle since getting out of rehab.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s still Shane, and his temper still simmers under the surface, but he contains it a lot better than before. Which makes me feel like an asshole when I don’t keep mine in check quite so easily.
“So, what? You wouldn’t have married me if you’d known I changed my mind?”
“No. That’s not what I’m saying.”
“What are you saying, Shane?”
“Just that—” He lets out a long exhale and sucks his teeth. “I deserve at least a conversation about it!”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I lift a brow.
His shoulders sag, and he drops his hands to his sides. “I love you. I want you no matter what, but—” He runs a hand over his mouth. “But I want a family with you.”
Heat creeps up my neck as I try and fail not to blurt out something hurtful. “I came to terms with the fact that we weren’t going to have that a long time ago, you can’t just expect me to change my mind now.”
Pain flashes in his eyes.
“So, I ruined that chance. Is that what you’re saying? That no matter how hard I try to fix things, I’ve already fucked that up?”
“Shane—”
“No! Nikki, that’s not fair. I understand a few months can’t make up for the years of bullshit I put you through, and I’m sorry for that. But you have to give me a chance. You can’t hold it all against me forever.”
“That’s not what this is.”
“Yes, it is. Everything circles back to what I’ve done. Every fight we have. Every obstacle. I get it! I deserve all of it, but we have to figure out how to move past that!”
“We are! I just don’t want kids!”
“Because I was a piece of shit for the last seven years and you don’t trust me!”
“No! Because I had a fucking abortion!” I scream, choking on the words like the last bit of air was just sucked out of the room.
He freezes, staring at me with his brows pinched and his lips parted. “What?”
I turn my back to him and brace my hands on the island. I always knew there would come a day we’d have to talk about it. It got easier to pretend it never happened, but the gaping, bleeding wound in my chest never fully disappeared. But this was not how I wanted it to come out.
“Nikki—”
I wipe away a tear with my shoulder and cross my arms over my chest. “It was before you were clean.”
He glides toward me. “When?”
I twist my mouth to the side, biting the inside of my cheek. “A couple of years ago. Right before I lost my job at Dee’s.”
He stares at me unblinking before muttering, “Fuck.”
“Baby, I—” He takes a step toward me, grabbing my elbow but I counter, moving away. “Why didn’t you say anything. You didn’t have to do that. We would have figured something out.”
“What?” I jerk away. “Are you fucking kidding me? Shane, I absolutely had to. We wouldn’t have figured anything out! You were out of your fucking mind half of the time, and I wasn’t in a place to have a baby all on my own.”
“You wouldn’t have been on your own.”
“Oh, you’re right. I would have had help on the rare occasion you weren’t high and decided to come home.”
“That’s not fair—”
“No. What’s not fair is you acting like I had any other choice.” I shove him back before storming toward our room and slamming the door behind me.
I’m not going to sit there and let him tell me a bunch of bullshit about how we could have fixed things back then. That wouldn’t have changed anything.
Right?
No. Of course it wouldn’t. That’s the whole point. That’s why I did it. If I’d thought for one second, he’d be able to pull through for us, maybe I would have made a different choice.
But he wasn’t capable of that at the time.
Unless he was.
Unless that would have been the thing that changed it all, and we’d be a happy and healthy little family now like Ash and Gabe…
A heaviness falls on my chest.
I let out a shriek and pick up a pillow, thrashing it onto the bed over and over again.
Fuck him.
I don’t need him to tell me what might have happened or what I should have done. I’ve lived with this shit all by myself for this long. He didn’t have to make the tough choices, I did. He just got to do whatever the fuck he wanted, and we all just forgave him for it.
Fuck him.
Fuck him.
Fuck. Him.
The next morning, the sun peaks in through the curtains, drenching the bedroom in a soft orange hew. The space beside me where my husband has slept every night since coming home is empty.
Shane didn’t come to bed after our fight last night.
A distant voice in my brain wonders if he left.
Maybe he realized we’re a disaster, and it’s useless trying to work it out because we’re always going to just end up right back here.
Or maybe he felt so defeated by our fight that he gave up, and he’s off somewhere getting fucked up.
I probably should have taken that into consideration before I said all that shit.
He’s only been clean a few months for fuck’s sake.
I groan, running a hand over my face.
When does that stop? How long does he have to be clean before that voice finally shuts the fuck up? I’m so tired of it. I’ve spent seven years waiting for this and now that it’s here, I can’t even enjoy it.
A soft knock draws my attention to the door as Shane peeks his head in. “Hey, I didn’t know if you were up yet.”
I nod, stretching out.
He pads across the room before perching on the side of our bed. “Nikki—”
“Can we not do this? I heard you loud and clear last night.”
His eyes drop to the floor as he nods more to himself than to me. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to fix everything I’ve done I—” He presses his thumb and index finger into his eyes. “I shouldn’t have said that shit last night.”
I’m torn between wanting to lash out and wanting to wrap my arms around him.
“I’ve spent a lot of time living with the choices I’ve made. It doesn’t get easier really, but we can’t change it now.”
His watery eyes lift to mine. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I wish I could take it all back.”
I nod, biting my lip. “I know.”
He huffs, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. He sounds so defeated when he says, “Are we ever gonna be normal?”
I don’t know why that stings so bad. For the first time since he’s been clean, I think we’re both realizing that the battle isn’t over.
Not even close. All these years, I was just biding my time, waiting for the day we’d finally be on the other side of this shit, and now I’m realizing maybe we never will be.
Talk about disappointing.
“Honestly? I don’t know,” I mutter, trying to hold back tears.