CHAPTER ONE #2
Um… yes, dumbass. I’d like to know what’s so important that you’re going to ruin the weekend with absolutely no regret or emotion. Like a robot. “Yes, please,” I gritted out.
“I scheduled surgeries for tomorrow.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Why? I thought you canceled the Saturday surgeries a year ago.”
“I did. It’s just… well, there are a lot of people who have regular nine to five jobs they can’t get out of for even half a day. I agree to see them on a case-by-case basis.”
I nodded. “But you don’t feel bad about this?”
“No. I mean, lots of practices don’t schedule on Saturdays at all. I think my patients have it good, considering.”
I stared at him. “I wasn’t talking about the practice. About me, Scott.” I tapped the table for emphasis. “Do you realize that you’re acting like it’s no big deal that I sat here an hour? Or that I have to do our weekend plans alone?”
He reached across and grabbed my hand. “Of course I’m sorry.
I should have been more clear.” His brown eyes locked on mine.
“I’m very sorry, Blair. I didn’t mean to show up late to dinner and then have to cancel on the rest of the weekend.
” Then he chuckled. “I’d think you’d be more appreciative, though. ”
My eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You know. I stayed late doing a root canal. I could’ve just canceled on dinner, too. And I’m performing surgeries tomorrow. You know I’m doing that for the money. We have six kids to put through college, baby.”
I took a couple of big glugs of champagne. He had no idea how much the gourmet cookie business I’d started years ago was bringing in. And I didn’t want him to. Everything about the business was in my name. I didn’t want him to think he had a right to it if we got divorced.
Which seemed like a more and more attractive option each year.
I saw the waiter walk by and flagged him down. “Could you please make my meal to go?”
“Of course, ma’am.” He arched his eyebrow at Scott who looked dumbfounded. “What the hell are you doing? I just drove all the way here and now you’re going to leave? On top of giving me crap for working hard for our family?”
Pure fury washed over me, and I let him have it.
“Right. Thanks. Thanks so very much.” I don’t think I could’ve sounded less enthusiastic.
“I should be grateful that my husband even showed up to eat dinner with me at all. I’m sure all of these other couples, the ones who arrived together, probably had to totally re-work their lives to get here.
It’s very hard,” I said, “to arrive to a restaurant on time. You’re right; I was expecting too much.
” The smile had fallen from his face, but I wasn’t done.
“And of course I’m grateful that you’re not going to be with me yet again this weekend because of surgeries you think you need to do to pad the bank account that’s already flush.
I didn’t plan for it months ago or anything.
I also didn’t talk about it at all, much less put it in your calendar, send reminder texts and emails, or somehow juggle getting six kids to all be miraculously off on a weekend for the first time in…
years, maybe, so that Carrie and Thatcher wouldn’t have to haul them to practices all over the place while they keep them.
That was no big deal. You know,” I was really picking up steam now, “I am so, so sorry that I’m not more grateful for all that you do. ”
When the waiter came back, he brought me a nice bag full of food boxes for me to take to the hotel. “It was a pleasure, ma’am,” he said, giving me a wink while Scott got a stony glare.
“Wait,” Scott said to me as the waiter plunked his lasagna down in front of him. “Are you actually going to leave me here?”
“I’m hungry and tired. I stayed up past one last night making sure all of our children’s bags were packed for the weekend.
Then I got up at five this morning to make sure everyone got off alright.
Then I worked on cookies for most of the day before picking everyone up and getting them to Carrie and Thatcher’s.
Then I drove here—alone—and entertained myself for an hour while surrounded by loving, happy couples.
Thank you, Scott. So, so much,” I said sarcastically.
He was more than a bit taken aback by my speech. I wasn’t exactly the most confrontational person in the world. If I’m being honest, I tended towards the doormat side of the confrontation spectrum. But I’d had to work on that a lot over the past several years.
I stood up. “So. I’m going to take the delicious meal you didn’t plan to eat with me to the hotel you’re not going to stay with me in, and you can eat here by yourself. Bye, Scott.”
He gaped at me as I took my bag of goodies and started walking off.
Then I remembered. “Oh,” I said. “I almost forgot.” He looked relieved, as if I was going to come back and let him off the hook.
Instead, I reached into my purse, pulled out a nicely wrapped jewelry box, and set it in front of him. “Happy Anniversary.”
He looked stricken, then winced. “God, Blair, I’m so sorry.”
But I was on my way out. He said the words to my back.
I wiped the tears off my cheeks as I crossed the road and went up to my hotel room.
I had a lot of thinking to do. At least I wouldn’t have any interruptions.
Plus, he’d really just made things easier for me.
I knew Carrie had experience with divorce lawyers, and I was hoping she could at least give me a name while I thought about things a bit more.
Something clunked when I set the bag from the restaurant down. I glanced in and saw a really nice, chilled bottle of white wine.
The waiter I’d known for an hour had given me a better anniversary gift than my husband of fifteen years had.
Of course, it’s not difficult to top a gift of nothing at all served with a heaping platter of indifference.
But I smiled as I uncorked the bottle; it had been a thoughtful thing to do.
I was tired of forgiving Scott for the many, many thoughtless things he’d done during our marriage. I laid on the huge bed in the hotel room, drinking straight from a bottle of wine, alone with my thoughts.
I’d been fighting for a long time to keep our marriage together for the kids. And, to be honest, I was scared to be completely on my own. Of course, the sex was amazing. I was sure that I’d never find anyone who could please me like Scott could.
I counted on my fingers the reasons I should leave Scott. Soon, I had ran out of fingers and toes, and I still had many more reasons to leave.
I blew out a breath and stared at the ceiling, cradling the now empty bottle of wine.
“Reasons to stay,” I said out loud. “One… it might be better for the kids. Two… it would be scary to be alone. Three… a great sex life.” I tried to think of more but couldn’t. I was holding up three fingers. Three.
Were three reasons to stay with my husband enough?
At what point did you let a marriage die?