Chapter 5 #2
“Yeah, it wasn’t bad.” My answer was short. I glanced at Beth, who had already stood up from the table, her bag slung over her shoulder as she headed toward the exit. She hadn’t said a word since the main course ended, and I knew better than to push her now.
Jessica followed my gaze and smiled. “I think she’s still adjusting to all of this,” she commented, her voice light but carrying a certain weight. “I guess it takes time.”
I didn’t reply. There was no need. I knew what she was implying, even if it was veiled behind her usual charm.
Beth was out of her depth here. The thought lingered longer than I wanted it to.
I shrugged, offering a noncommittal response before gesturing for her to follow me out.
I’d deal with Beth later. Tonight had been productive, and that was what mattered most right now.
Beth waited by the car when I stepped outside, her arms crossed over her chest. She didn’t say anything as I unlocked the door and we slid into the backseat.
The tension between us was palpable, the silence heavy in the confines of the car.
I could feel her disappointment radiating off her in waves, but I pushed it aside. We’d talk about it when we got home.
But the ride home was silent, too, the city lights flashing by outside the windows as neither of us spoke.
It wasn’t until we were in the elevator, the soft ding signaling our arrival at the top floor, that she finally looked at me, her expression unreadable.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Her voice was neutral, but I could hear the hurt behind it.
“Yeah, it was good.” I kept my answer brief, knowing that any further explanation would only lead to another argument. “Let’s talk when we get inside.”
Beth nodded once, stepping into the penthouse ahead of me, her posture stiff as she walked straight toward the bedroom, leaving me alone in the living room to close the door behind me.
I sighed, running a hand over my face. This night hadn’t gone exactly how I planned, but it wasn’t a disaster either.
And that, I reminded myself, was all that counted.
I just had to find a way to make Beth see it too, even if I didn’t have all the answers for that yet.
I followed her into the bedroom, where she had already changed into her pajamas, her movements stiff and deliberate, like she was putting up walls between us without even saying a word.
The familiar ache of frustration built inside me, the one that always seemed to surface whenever we got to this point.
I walked over to the bed, loosening my tie, but she didn’t look at me.
“Are you going to talk to me, or are we just going to pretend nothing happened?” I asked, trying to keep my tone steady, but the edge crept in.
“What’s the point, Chris?” Her voice was flat, resigned. “It’s always the same. I sit there, trying to be part of your world, but it’s never enough. It’s never going to be enough.” She finally turned to look at me, her eyes glistening slightly, though she refused to let the tears fall.
“Beth, don’t start this,” I sighed, sinking onto the edge of the mattress, my body already tired from the long night. “Jessica didn’t mean anything by what she said tonight.”
That made her scoff, the bitter sound cutting through the room like a blade.
“Of course not. Because Jessica is always perfect. She says everything just right, does everything just right.” She looked away, her arms crossing tightly over her chest as if bracing for more.
“She made it clear tonight that I don’t belong in that world. And you let her.”
The accusation stung more than I expected, but I wasn’t about to let her twist this into something bigger than it was. “Beth, she was just making conversation.”
“Was she?” Beth’s voice was quiet, but the venom in her words was sharp. “It sure didn’t feel like it.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling the familiar pressure building behind my eyes. “This isn’t about her, and you know it.”
“Of course it isn’t,” she shot back. “But you let it happen, and that’s what hurts the most.” Her voice broke slightly, and I saw her swallow hard before she turned away completely, staring out the window at the city below.
I stood up, pacing in front of the bed, trying to keep my cool even as irritation clawed at the edges of my control. “You can’t keep expecting me to fight every battle for you, Beth. You’re my wife, not my responsibility to manage all the time.”
Her head snapped back to me, her eyes narrowing in hurt. “Is that what you think I’m asking for? For you to protect me? I don’t need a hero, Chris, but I do need a husband who actually cares when someone treats me like I’m less than.”
“Jessica wasn’t?—“
“Yes, she was!” The outburst burst from her lips, the dam breaking at last. “She was doing exactly what she always does, and you let it happen. I’m so sick of feeling like the dumb one in the room just because I don’t talk about mergers or venture funds like she does!”
The accusation hung between us, thick and suffocating.
I opened my mouth to argue, to explain again that it wasn’t like that, but the words stuck in my throat.
I couldn’t deny what she had said entirely, even if I didn’t agree with her interpretation.
“It’s not about you being dumb, Beth, it’s just different worlds. ”
“Well, maybe I’m tired of living in both,” she whispered, her voice small now, defeated.
The conversation spiraled, the hurt and frustration wrapping around both of us like vines, tightening with each passing moment.
We were stuck in this place, going in circles, neither of us willing to give the other what they needed in the moment.
I didn’t want to fight, but I was tired of her constantly making me feel like I had to choose, as though my success was something to apologize for.
After a tense stretch of silence, I moved toward her, standing close but not touching. “Let’s just sleep on it, okay? We can talk more in the morning.”
She stared at me for a long moment, the disappointment clear on her face. “Sure, Chris.” Her voice was devoid of any real emotion, as though she had already shut down completely. “We can talk later.”
I knew she didn’t believe it, but I didn’t push it.
There was nothing left to say tonight that would fix what had already broken.
Instead, I climbed into bed beside her, our backs turned to each other, the silence of the room mirroring the space that had grown between us.
It felt like just another night of unresolved tension, another step closer to a precipice neither of us seemed capable of avoiding.
But as I stared at the ceiling, the events of the evening replayed in my mind. The business side of things had gone well, maybe even perfectly. Yet, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something far more important had slipped through my fingers, and I didn’t know how to get it back.