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“Don’t apologize,” he says, dropping a kiss onto the back of my neck as he reaches around me for another towel. The brief moment of his strong arms around me remind me of how secure I feel when he’s here. I’m so glad he’s home. “Let’s get this cleaned up and hit the taco stand. I’ve missed those pollo tacos almost as much as I’ve missed you.”
The kitchen cleaned up and both of us showered, we head out and make our way to our favorite taco place. We get an order to go and take it to an ocean front park perched on the cliffs over the grey-green waters of the Pacific.
“Now this is the life,” Leon says as he crumples up our trash and shoves it into the takeout bag. “Sex, food, sunsets, you—this is all I need.”
He reaches for me, pulling me close to his chest. We watch as the sun drops down below the horizon and lights begin to blink on further up the coast.
“That’s pretty much how I imagined it,” I say quietly.
“Imagined what?” He shifts and looks down at me in the fading light.
“Our life. Our marriage.” I’m not sure if I want to have this conversation right now, but it’s something I know we can’t put off any longer. “Are you happy with the way things are right now, Leon?”
“Are you?”
I can hear the uncertainty in his voice.
“Not entirely,” I admit.
“Me either,” he answers quietly.
The tacos I’ve just eaten feel like a heavy weight in the pit of my belly. Nervously, I ask, “What about this marriage makes you unhappy?”
I’m not sure I want to hear his answer. What if it’smehe’s not happy with anymore? What if all this—coming home early, the amazing sex in the kitchen—was just the high before the fall?
“It’s not our marriage that’s making me unhappy, Court. It’s my job. I hate that I have to travel so much and spend all this time away from you.”
I take a deep breath, the knot in my stomach loosening.
“Yeah, it’s not exactly how I imagined it either.”
“I mean, we knew we’d be separated some of the time, with you being a flight attendant, but—”
“You knew what I did for work when you married me,” I say, the words coming out sharper than I mean them to. “You’re the one who took a promotion that added even more time apart for us.”
“Hold on,” he says sharply. “This isn’t all on me. I thought you said you were going to try to get more direct flights with fewer layovers. Try to do more local instead of cross-country. What ever happened to that?”
“Like it would make a difference. You wouldn’t be home anyhow.” Shit. I hate that we’re arguing. I don’t want our evening to go like this. I take a breath. “Let’s not fight about it, okay? It’s simple: our jobs keep us apart. The question is, is there anything we can do about it?”
“I guess, right now, there’s not much we can do.” He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “We’ll figure it out, though, Court. We will.”
His words feel reassuring, even if we haven’t actually resolved anything. But at least we’ve gotten some of our feelings out there. I settle back against him and he wraps an arm around me, and we watch the last wisps of daylight fade.
* * *
The next coupleof days pass quietly and we settle into our life at home together. We cook, each trying to replicate recipes from restaurants we ate at while we were out of town; we go for walks and visit the beach; Leon tosses out the estimate from the creepy contractor when it arrives in the mail.
I’m in the kitchen, my hands covered in flour from finally trying to make my rosemary bread, when my phone rings.
“Mind grabbing that?” I ask Leon, who’s sitting at the kitchen island keeping me company while I bake.
He picks up my phone and looks at it.
“Who is it?” I say, turning around, my doughy hands held up in the air.
“It’s your work,” he answers tightly.
“Put it on speaker?” We both know my job only calls to ask if I’ll come in and cover a flight.
