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Trying to stay mad at him, I set my phone on the nightstand. He’s right, of course. I do get pissy when I’m tired, but sleep hasn’t been easy this week. There’s just too much going on.
On top of that, Briar has been in a strange mood.
The one guy in Texas who hates me is living a couple hundred feet away. And if that wasn’t strange enough, I can’t get the image of him in those tight swim trunks out of my head. I’m certainly not against finding a man attractive. I’ve found plenty of men attractive in the past—that doesn’t mean anything.
But this one in particular has really haunted my mind for the last week. Because Dean is very,veryattractive, and it’s bad enough worrying about my wife around him. I don’t need to fantasize about him myself. Talk about a mess.
Flipping onto my back in bed, I turn to see the empty space next to me. My wife has always been a night owl, and it’s not unheard of to feel her absence at night, especially if it’s not a fertile day.
But when I can’t get back to sleep, I climb out from under the covers. Walking to the window, I peer out over the yard toward the room above the garage. The lights are off, so I assume Dean is either asleep or at work.
Just then, the bedroom door opens and Briar walks in. She pauses when she spots me as if she’s surprised to see me up.
“Hey,” she mumbles before walking to the bathroom. “I didn’t expect you to be awake. It’s late.”
I take in a deep breath as I turn toward her. “Couldn’t sleep. What were you doing?”
Her brow furrows as she stops to glare at me. “Having a glass of wine and enjoying the peace and quiet. Is that okay with you?”
“It was just a question.”
“Well, it sounded like an accusation,” she argues.
I take a step toward her. “What exactly would I be accusing you of?”
She looks taken aback. “I don’t know, Caleb. You’re the one with the tone.”
“And you’re the one being defensive.”
She lets out a huff of frustration as she spins away from me, putting the bathroom door between us.
She’s slipping away.
I don’t know what to say anymore. Which is a recurring theme, it seems.
Instead of standing there like an idiot, I walk out of our bedroom. I end up in the kitchen, filling a glass with water and rubbing my brow as I drink it. If I thought it would help, I’d reach for something stronger.
That’s when movement on the porch catches my eye. I’m frozen in place as I watch Dean lift a glass to his lips. A glass frommykitchen. A glass full ofmywine.
Glancing down to the sink, my eyes catch on an empty wineglass, and it’s not hard to put everything together from there. She was up in the middle of the night, drinking with him. Part of me wants to march out there and throw him off my property, but for what? Talking to her? Being near her? Being here in general?
I did this.
I’m not intimidated by a man who’s been here a week. She’s my wife. We have a life together. We have a child together. She wouldn’t jeopardize that.
I just walk upstairs instead. Briar is in bed when I get to our room. She’s lying on her side, facing me as I climb in next to her. She stares into my eyes for a moment, and I wish I could place the expression on her face.
What are we doing? Who are we anymore?
Does she even still love me?
I want to scream at her. I wish she would tell me how to make this better, and I would do it.
After a few minutes, she rolls over and falls asleep, but I lie awake. I don’t ask her if she was with him or bother accusing her of anything. And maybe I should be mad, but I’m not.
Perhaps I’d be angry if I wasn’t so terrified.
Thirteen
