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His body froze, his back straightening as he pulled away, inching backward until his butt collided with the opposite counter.
“Mitch... no wait, please!” Lauren stretched her hand out, tugging at the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “I didn’t mean it like that!”
His hand swatted hers away as he turned to open the sugar container, dumping a spoonful of white crystals into his mug of fresh coffee. “No, no, I know the rules in this house. I’ll look at the calendar next time.”
The air deflated from her lungs as a sob left her lips. “Mitch, I’m so sorry! I didn’t—”
“That’s just it, Lauren...we both know you did.” He snorted and stepped away, the scent of coffee trailing behind him as he left the kitchen.
Tears welled in her eyes as a chill erupted on her skin. She shivered. “Where are you going?”
“Low on eggs, aren’t you?” he called over his shoulder.
Her feet stopped short as her breath caught in her throat.
Mitch paused at the foot of the staircase and released an exaggerated exhale. He turned. “The market...”
Lauren hung her head, the tears streaming down her cheeks.
That was low, even for you, Mitch.
––––––––
Lauren laid a heapingbowl of fresh fruit on the table and straightened the pile of napkins. Stepping back, her eyes grazed over the picture-perfect brunch she’d prepared for the family. With one last adjustment of the teacups and saucers, she huffed out a breath and marched back into the kitchen.
That’s as good as it’s gonna get today.
She rubbed her eyes, mopping up the mascara staining her cheeks. “How did things get this bad between us?” she whispered, squeezing the muscles in her neck. Her elbows dropped to the counter, a groan tumbling from her lips as her upper body fell to the hard surface. With a sigh, she squeezed her eyes shut, willing the burn behind her lids to disappear.
The front door banged open, and Lauren snapped her body up, dragging her palms across her cheeks and her fingers below her eyes once more.
Come on! Pull yourself together.
“Anyone home?”
“In here!” she yelled, checking her blurred reflection in the microwave door.
Austin rounded the corner and dropped a white cardboard box on the counter. “Got there too late for any of the good donuts—had to settle for bear claws instead.” His face fell as their eyes connected. “Whoa, what’s wrong?”
Lauren shook her head and forced a smile on her lips. “Not a thing. Everything’s fine.” She popped the box open and surveyed the treats, inhaling the sugary scent.
“You don’t look fine. What gives?” He turned, poking his head out of the kitchen door. “Where’s Mitch?”
“The market, I think.” Her stomach dropped, recalling her husband’s snide comment. The tears welled, pooling in the corners of her eyes. She dropped to her knees, burying her head in a corner cabinet until her hands landed on a ceramic platter. Lauren tugged, the clank of the dish muffling the sob escaping her lips. The pit in her stomach grew—the anger and resentment living in her heart heightening. She inhaled, pushing aside the guilt consuming her soul over a slowly crumbling marriage, fraught with the struggle of infertility.
“Where’s the banana bread?” Austin called from the dining room, disappointment coating his question.
Of course. The fucking banana bread.
Laughter bubbled from her belly, the last shred of sanity leaving her gut. She sank backward until her butt met the tile.
I really can’t win today, can I?
“What’s so funny?” Austin peeked his face over the countertop with a furrowed brow.
Lauren hiccupped and pulled herself to her feet with the platter in hand. “You know, Austin, nothing has ever been less funny in my entire life.” She dropped the ceramic plate to the counter, its vibrations echoing throughout the kitchen.
“I don’t understand.” He shook his head.
