Chapter 18 #3
I look at the swing set in the yard. The fence. Anywhere but the man I want to love me when I say what I have to say. “She left because I was a shit husband.”
He doesn’t react to that in any meaningful way. Nods in acknowledgment, maybe agreement. And that should make me feel bad, but it makes me spill my guts.
“I worked too much. And I think I was doing it on purpose.” I pause, trying and failing to find a way to say this without it sounding so bad, so I go with the truth.
“When things were hard at home, I picked up another shift. When Jess and I were arguing, I’d stay late.
And I didn’t have to feel bad about it because I was providing for my family. ”
“It was over before Ollie,” I continue, and admitting it makes my stomach twist, but it’s been eating me alive inside since she left. “She was going to divorce me, I’m sure of it.”
“But you had another kid,” Will says, starting to put it together.
“We didn’t mean to get pregnant. We weren’t even—” I pause before I talk about the frequency of our intimacy, sure that he doesn’t want that much information.
“She didn’t want another baby, but I convinced her it could be a good thing.
I thought maybe it would give us a reason to be a team again, like when Addie was little.
” I shake my head, hearing how stupid that sounds when I say it out loud.
“Didn’t work?”
“Once he was born, it drove us further apart. She took on more responsibility, and I took on less. More hours because that felt easier than being at home. We couldn’t pretend anymore.”
Will sighs, a puff of smoke in front of him.
“The last five years of our marriage, I don’t think we kissed one time,” I say. “I didn’t notice when she started not coming to bed. I don’t know if I cared as long as everything stayed the same. But it didn’t.”
I take a deep breath, steadying myself against the railing for the next part. “One evening, I got home, and the kids were home, but she hadn’t come home from work. When I checked my phone, I had a text from her that said ‘I need some time’.”
Will is completely silent, his hands clenched into fists at his side, the only reaction to my words.
“That was over a year ago. Since then, she’s reached out enough for me to know she’s alive. Said she’s in Florida. Has a new job there.”
“Florida,” he repeats, his voice harder than it was a minute ago.
“Addie’s handling it as well as expected, but I think she keeps most of her feelings to herself. Ollie had a rough go of it for a while. Starting having fits, lashing out at me. But he’s doing better now. Stopped asking about her.”
“I can’t blame her for not wanting to be married to me anymore. But the kids. I can’t—” My voice cracks, and I should be embarrassed about the tears threatening my eyes, but I can’t.
She left our family.
And I’ve said more in the last five minutes about Jess than I’ve said to anyone, to the last person I ever thought I would, and now I don’t know what to do with the feelings I’ve kept bottled up.
Thankfully, he speaks up.
“You are a shit husband. But you don’t abandon your kids behind because your husband’s a dick.” He shakes his head, turning to look at me with righteous anger in his eyes, a shade lighter than hers. “That ain’t right, and she knows that.”
“Yeah,” I agree with a sigh. “She does.”
We stand there for another minute, the cold settling around us, and I think about my wife. She loves Christmas, and she’s spending it alone, while I’m here with her family. She made her choice, but I know I played my part.
And I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.
“You’re doing okay,” Will says, a hand that was a fist a minute ago coming up to rest on my back. I look at him, and he’s watching me the same way he always does, even after all of that. “The kids are still alive. The house is moderately clean. We had a nice Christmas. That’s all you.”
I step closer, and he turns to face me so I can rest my hands on his hips, my fingers through the loop of his jeans. I can only hope that no one looks through the window right now. “You’re doing okay too, you know?”
“Oh, am I?” His hands land on my cheeks, and I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I think our date may have done something. Opened a door to more.
“Mhm. I think this might be the first Christmas you haven’t shown up drunk.” I’m not going to lie to him. He knows our past. The way he was before. And he doesn’t seem offended, sliding his finger from my cheek to my bottom lip.
“Yeah, well, you know. I’m trying to get laid tonight, so I figured I’d better be on my best behavior.”
That makes me chuckle as I dart my eyes to the glass door and back to him. When I see that no one is watching, I step forward and kiss his lips briefly before pulling away completely. “You’re not getting laid tonight.”
“What?”
I don’t say anything because I don’t trust myself not to laugh. Or give in. Instead, I leave him standing outside alone, with an adorably confused look on his face.
This Christmas wasn’t half bad, all things considered.