Page 48 of The Write Choice

She raises an eyebrow at me. “You were young, too,” she says softly, and I detect almost a tinge of regret. “Wide-eyed and idealistic and barely out of school.”

I lower my eyebrows, concerned. “I wouldn’t have done this any other way, Cat.”

“You can’t tell me this is the timeline you would have chosen for yourself.” She whispers. I sit up straighter, my hands going still on her feet.

I’m completely caught off guard by her statement, and I’m not even sure how to respond. I thought I made it abundantly clear while she was pregnant that I was thrilled. I mean, sure, I didn’t expect to jump on the baby train at twenty-four years old. But I love this life and this family we have.

“It worked out okay.” I squeeze her feet gently. Her gaze meets mine for a second, then falls.

My phone buzzes. I consider not answering it to continue this conversation, but I don’t know what else to say. I shift to pull it out of my pocket.

“Daniel wants me to meet up with him and Ben on Friday while you’re with the ladies,” I say. It would be nice to hang out. Part of my reason for wanting to move out here was to have more friends. I haven’t seen them since they helped me set up the house, and that wasn’t exactly relaxing.

Katie screws up her face, still not looking at me. “Oh. I got a pity invite so you can hang out with the guys.”

What is going on here? Where did my confident wife go? Is this how she feels all the time, and she’s just never said anything about it to me?

I suck in a breath. “I don’t think Mac and Jenny are the type to do anything they don’t want to do. In fact, knowing what I know about Mac, I’d say this was her idea, not Daniel’s.”

Katie considers this as she twists a lock of hair around her finger. “Maybe.” She raises her eyebrows as if she’s considering something, then eyes me sidelong and smirks. “Mac is pretty cute,” she says playfully.

I burst out laughing. That’s definitely not what I was expecting, but it’s an age-old game between us. She likes to try to make me jealous. If she wants to play, I’ll take the bait. I pointedly run a hand thorough my red hair. “You certainly have a type.”

She hums with amusement, then her expression turns serious as she meets my gaze. “Maybe I used to. Now, it’s just you.”

My heart cracks in my chest. I want to scoop her up and hold her close, but she breaks the moment by looking away.

“Nora suggested I expand my social circle at my last appointment. I guess this wouldn’t be a terrible place to start,” she muses.

“See? You should go.” I start rubbing her feet again.

She sighs in contentment. “What about the kids?”

“This is why we moved closer to my parents, remember?”

She’s silent for another moment, chewing on the inside of her lip. “Okay,” she says finally. “If your parents can watch them, I’ll go.”

I don’t expect relief to flood me, but it does. I can’t help but hope that she can build some real friendships here, starting with pasta night.

Chapter 14

Katie

On Wednesday, Brandon is so late that he completely misses the kids’ bedtime, which is a new low. At one point, in the middle of mediating a screaming match between the kids and then talking about our feelings afterward, I think wistfully back to the days when I could have had a glass of wine and settled in with a good movie. I’m so angry that by the time the kids are in bed, I leave Brandon’s dinner in the fridge and a note on the counter. I tuck myself in, hoping he’ll get the hint that he should try the guest room tonight.

He doesn’t get the hint. He comes in and quietly undresses, then slips carefully under the covers while I pretend to be asleep. His breathing steadies, and just when I think he’s fallen asleep, he sighs heavily.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

He doesn’t just sound sorry. He sounds devastated, like it doesn’t even matter how upset I am. He’s already crushed himself far more than my disappointment ever could.

My breath catches at his tone, but I don’t say anything. I’m sure he falls asleep, but I lie awake much longer, my head spinning. My emotions are playing a tug-of-war between anger and compassion. I drift off to sleep before I can decide which one wins.

On Friday night, I pull up to Jenny and Ben’s house at seven. There’s a black sedan parked on the street outside, and I assume it’s Mac’s car. It would figure they’re both here already. They’re the best friends, and I’m being allowed to tag along because Daniel wanted to hang out with Brandon and didn’t want to feel bad about it. I don’t care what Brandon said; this has to be a pity invite.

I sit in my car for an extra minute, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Things have been better, but still not great. It’s not Mac and Jenny’s fault I’m sad and lonely in this soft suburb. It’s Brandon’s, and I shouldn’t project my anger at him onto these women who are just trying to help. And I did genuinely like them the last time we were here.

I look over at the chocolate chip cookies sitting on the passenger seat. We made so many of them with Maria that I had to get the rest of them out of the house, so I brought them to share. In my youth, I would have brought a bottle of tequila or gin to take the edge off the sure-to-be awkward social situation instead.