–Me: I’m fine. He didn’t take things out on me, if you mean physical violence.
Adam doesn’t seem to get the subtle rebuke in my allusion to the words he used last night because he only responds,Thank God!I tighten my jaw.
–Me: I think it would be best if you refrained from coming over or doing things that would upset Huxley.
–Adam: Is that your wish or his?
–Me: Mine. He’s my husband and the father of my baby, Adam. He didn’t deserve to be treated like that on our wedding night. It was uncalled for.
–Adam: I was drunk.
–Me: Yes, that was obvious. I’m disappointed that you drank until you lost control of yourself.
–Adam: Again, I’m sorry.
I don’t respond. There’s nothing more to say, since neither forgiveness nor continued anger is an acceptable response.
Despite the night of debauchery, I’m surprisingly clean—there’s none of the stuff Huxley smeared all over me and my own fluids. After a quick shower, I dry my hair, put on a simple T-shirt and shorts and head downstairs.
He’s in the kitchen, enjoying his coffee. There’s no hint of last night anywhere.Did Tilda clean up?Probably best not to ask.
Huxley pours me a small cup of coffee and slides it over.
“Good morning,” I murmur.
“Good morning.” His voice doesn’t reveal anything. “Want some breakfast?”
“Yes. Please.”
He shovels a mountain of scrambled eggs and bacon onto my plate. “Here.”
“Thanks.” I pick up a fork, then hesitate.It’s going to be awkward no matter what. Might as well get it over with.“Adam texted that he’s sorry.”
“Did he now.” Huxley’s tone says he’d love nothing more than to take the apology and use it for proctological purposes on Adam’s ass.
“I asked him to keep his distance for a while. What he did wasn’t cool. He crossed a line he shouldn’t have.”
Huxley’s expression softens. “Does this mean you realize I was right and he won’t be your friend anymore?”
“Um…” Give this man an inch, he’s ready to take the whole continent. “No. He’s still a friend.”
The muscles in his jaw twitch as his expression turns stony. “A friend who keeps crossing the line.”
“Not keeps. Once. Besides, he’s a true friend.” I nibble on a strip of bacon. “When Mom became sick and things got tough, a lot of my friends sort of drifted away. They offered sympathy, and they hoped Mom would get better and all that. A couple sent cards. But ultimately, I wasn’t that much fun to be around when I was constantly stressed about Mom.”
Contempt for them flashes in Huxley’s eyes. “You also had a lot of bills to juggle. Being fun for your ‘friends’ wasn’t your priority.”
“No, it wasn’t.” I give him a wan smile. “Anyway, I realized I couldn’t depend on any of them, except for Adam. He stood by me and made sure I was okay. So he’s not someone I can just end a relationship with. I want to give him another chance. Maybe two or three chances. I hope you understand.”
There’s an internal struggle happening inside Huxley. “I don’t want to.”
“You said I was yours last night,” I say calmly. Huxley seems determined to be judgmental about me and Adam. But I don’t want to get emotional and waste this opportunity to set things straight. “And you’re my husband. Why does it matter that somebody else is my friend? He’s not the one I’m sleeping with. I’ve never slept with him. I’m nevergoingto sleep with him. He’sjustafriend.” I pause to take another bite of the eggs. “Plus, like I said, he’s gay.”
“Yeah, sure,” Huxley grumbles, but the tension in his shoulders eases. “No more of him acting like he’s the father of my baby.”
“He won’t. I was just distraught, and he offered to go with me a few hours before the appointment because I didn’t want to go alone.” I pull out my phone and place it on the counter. “I know you missed it live. So it may not be the same, but do you still want to hear the baby’s heartbeat? The doctor recorded it.”
His eyes flick to the phone, then at me. Surprise and pleasure brighten them.Maybe hecanbe a good father to our child, regardless of how it came about.
