Moving on, what he’dsaidwas equally telling.
You and I are dangerous together.There it was. The truth. We weren’t lovers anymore. At least not right now. We were colleagues. Roommates and colleagues. Coworkers. Teammates. The power couple of Burlington goes for the win! Ugh. What I wanted was some cuddle time. Even a hug would have been nice. Not a freaking shake of the foot! Not a high five. Not a towel swat on the butt in the locker room. I’m not your power forward, Rory. Do I look like I’m wearing ice skates?
Gosh! Was I the only woman in the world who wanted to be seen?
Rory undressed in front of his closet, methodically hanging his belt, tie, and slacks. He didn’t scratch his head or grunt as I’d hoped he would, but he pulled out and rearranged each one of his shirts and returned its hanger and color to its proper location.
If committing my little acts of attrition brought satisfaction, seeing him discover them and being forced to correct them was pure rapture.
Rory shook his head as he rearranged his shoes. How had he noticed so quickly? I could go weeks without noticing a mismatched pair of shoes in my somewhat-organized closet. Even if I were to notice an imbalance, I wouldn’t bother fixing it for a while. I wondered so desperately what my husband was thinking. Did he think he might have Alzheimer’s? Was he worried that age was finally taking its toll? Did he suspect me even in the slightest?
After he’d brushed his teeth, he returned to the bedroom and asked, “Do you mind if I watch the game for a bit?”
I was feeling better by that point and ready to continue being the awesome wife and partner I’d committed to being. “Absolutely, sweetie. You deserve it.”
I thought he might give me another foot shake for that one. Perhaps a locker-room pat on the bottom or a fist bump.That’s my Superwife!
Thanks, Coach Rory!I might respond.
Or maybe he’d just give me a classic thumbs-up. Actually, if he’d given me a thumbs-up, I would have smacked him six ways to Sunday. As I was learning the hard way this week, I have my limits.
Rory didn’t make much of a gesture at all. A simple head shake and a move to the remote, which meant he agreed. He deserved to watch the game for a while. Have I mentioned that I hate hockey?
As he stood there by his side of the bed and navigated to our recordings, I slipped deeper into the covers. I might have to pull them over my head to keep from being discovered. Philippe passed gas, though, which stopped my retreat. I put my eyes on the book. Rory still hadn’t noticed that my little prince rested peacefully under the covers.
“What the hell?” he muttered.
For all I knew, I might have been looking at my book upside down, but I stared at it like I’d just read some shocking celebrity gossip inPeoplemagazine.Brad Pitt is now sleeping with Scarlett Johansson!No, that’s not true.
Anyway, I tried so hard not to smile. He cursed, and I peered over the pages to acknowledge his frustration. “What’s wrong?”
He turned to me. “I can’t find my games. I swear they were here this morning.”
“That’s strange,” I said, going back to my book.
In a rare act of losing his temper, Rory cast the remote to the floor and cursed again. Standing near his side of the bed, he asked, “Are you sure you didn’t delete my games? They were here, damn it.”
Even though I was guilty as charged, I didn’t like being accused. Overcome with an eruption of emotions, I gritted my teeth and side-eyed him. He was probably waiting for me to admit guilt. It wasn’t solely the jealousy from the episode with Kim that instigated my reaction. Suddenly, all the fury and anger and fear that had been raging inside me for years came to life and shook every molecule of my body. I told myself to breathe through it.You’ve made it this far, Margot. Don’t collapse now!
This self-awareness helped me grasp control mere seconds before I spat venom at him, even though his claims against mewerejustified. He stared at me, waiting for a confession. He was probably ready to unleash hell on me as punishment. I breathed and sought control. Oh, that venom though. My rage forced me to shake under those sheets.
I turned my head to him, ignored his question, and said, “You were an asshole to me in front of the kitchen staff today.” I set my book down and dropped my head to the pillow. It felt good to tell him like it was, for once. How in the heck had I buried all these feelings for so long? Mismatching a pair or two of socks and shoes suddenly felt like an absurd way to find happiness.
Rory looked at me like I’d accused him of cheating. His eyes shot toward the ceiling and then back to me.
I could feel the anger boiling up between us. No doubt we’dboth been biting our tongues lately. I saw the fire burning in his upper cheeks.
I don’t give the man enough credit. Rory caught himself before he fell into my trap and into a game he knew he’d never win. His brow smoothed as he answered politely, “I know I let you down. The moment I said it, I wanted to apologize.”
“You should have.”
“I know, I know. It’s hard to admit you’re wrong when you’re supposed to be right all the time. If it had been just us, I swear I would have said sorry. I knew I’d crossed a line.”
“You should especially apologize in front of others. No one is ever going to disrespect you for loving and respecting your wife. And no one expects you to be right all the time.”Are you kidding me?I thought.
In either a beautiful turn to honesty or one of his greatest performances of all time, he put both hands on the bed and said, “I’ve been distracted lately. I know that I can be a jerk sometimes. Please, please take nothing I say to heart. I was just nervous about tonight. If you’d like me to, I will be happy to say something to everyone.”
“I’d like that. You should do it. I’d like for you to call every last one who worked in the kitchen today and apologize.”
