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At a red light, she set down the untouched water and leaned over to hold my hand, lacing our fingers together.
“My job is why I’m edgy.” You have to know that. “And it’s why you’re stressed out every time I walk out the door. No different than when I was in the Army.” I did my best to keep the accusation and “I told you so” out of my voice but couldn’t quite keep my foot from pressing a little too hard on the gas pedal when the light turned green.
“You regret leaving Delta for the CIA.” She pulled her hand back, like my words shocked her. But this wasn’t new information for her. I only said as much every other week. “You blame me for it, too.”
If the shoe fucking fits. God, I hated myself for thinking that. Almost as much as I hated myself for resenting her for forcing me into leaving the Unit to join the Company two years ago. The path that decision put me on involved even more red tape and bureaucracy than my previous line of work. I was constantly being told “no, don’t help them” because the U.S. doesn’t benefit from it. It was fucking exhausting, and I wasn’t even a full two years in with them.
“You’ll never openly admit you resent me. To tell me you’re mad I asked you to leave the Army. But maybe you’d feel better if you finally got it off your chest.”
Were we really doing this now? Having a come-to-Jesus conversation in the car on the way to dinner with her friends? I think the fuck not.
“You’re making a real difference in what you’re doing now.”
Here we go. The speech. The one that always ended with me being a senator and then Commander in Chief one day. The last thing in the world I wanted.
“I mean, you can’t tell me much about your work, but I have to believe that what you do matters. And changing the world is what we both want.” The sad sigh from her chipped away at the ice walls I’d been working to keep up on the drive. She always managed to knock them down, because like my father, I’d do anything for my wife. Which included never hurting her.
“Remember at Columbia we used to daydream about how we’d change the world one day?”
We’d only been friends then. But what guy was best friends with a woman like Rebecca and not hope she’d see him as more one day? And then after she’d dated all the wrong guys, she finally focused on who was right in front of her, patiently waiting—me.
But fuck, what if I wasn’t the right guy for her? What if she was meant to be with some fancy dickhead who enjoyed power and the smell of money, and I screwed up her life by admitting I had feelings for her back then? I slowed down at that thought, unsure where it’d come from, and immediately felt like an asshole for thinking it.
“You spend more time with nonprofits and charities than you do with me,” I finally spoke up. “You’re changing the world like you wanted to. You help people. All I’m doing is putting together target packages that get shot down by people sitting on their high horses with no clue how the real world operates.” Maybe I should’ve been the one to have a few drinks before dinner, especially since her friends we were joining happened to be on those horses—aka, politicians.
“Will you ever forgive me for making you quit?”
“Nothing to forgive.” The lie cut through my teeth with too much grit for her to believe. I pulled up to the valet line, waiting for our turn. “I made the choice. Not you.” Technically speaking, it was the truth. My hands weren’t tied. I could’ve chosen the Unit over her. But I didn’t.
I closed my eyes, remembering her ultimatum, and my reaction to it. “I choose you. How can I not? You’re my wife,” I’d said, then left the room to nurse my misery alone, knowing my world would soon flip upside down.
At the knuckles thwacking the window, I opened my eyes, finding the valet there. As another man came around and opened the door for Rebecca, I took a few more seconds to rid myself of the foul mood I was in, then exited the Jag, leaving the keys in the car. “Thank you,” I said to the guy, then caught up with my wife on the sidewalk, resting a hand on her back.
Her solid gray pencil skirt and blazer perfectly exemplified the powerful businesswoman she was—a woman who had and did it all.
Turning her cheek toward me as we walked, giving me some serious side eye, she said, “I’m miserable because I feel . . . unfulfilled.”
That had me stopping in my tracks. I tugged her closer to the nearest building and away from the middle of the sidewalk. “You feel unfulfilled?”
Her tongue skirted along the line of her red lips, the only color on her tonight.
“What if we have kids?” I already knew what her answer would be, but I had to try. I’d never stop trying, just like she never stopped telling me no. “I’ve been told having kids can be fulfilling.” My pulse flew at my neck when she didn’t turn me down within five seconds like normal. Was there a chance?
She vanquished my hope the second our eyes met. “Why do you do this to me? You married me knowing I never want children. I was upfront about that.”
“I felt that way, too. Then somewhere along the way I changed my mind. Decided the world sucked and needed some little people in it to help make it better. Preferably our people. Our children.”
“For such a hard-ass, you sound so adorable talking like that,” she said around a hiccup. “But my answer won’t change no matter how cute you make having your babies sound.” She reached between us and smoothed down the collar of my shirt. “Let’s just enjoy the process of baby making without actually making one, okay? The plan is for us to be the cool aunt and uncle, remember?”
“Bit of a flawed plan there. I don’t have family. Neither do you.”
“Camila’s basically your sister. Hopefully she has kids one day, and then you can spoil them rotten. Or teach them the ways of the world, or whatever it is you feel like you’re missing out on.” When I kept quiet, she threw me a bone. “What about we get a dog? I love dogs.” She gave me her fake smile, and I hated fake-anything from my wife.
“You’re allergic.” I gestured for her to start walking again.
“Surely there are pills for that.”
“We travel too much to have a pet at home.”
