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Finally, Brandi nods. “I think I’m going to go to bed.”
And she turns and walks out of the room.
I know I should go after her and say something soothing, but I don’t know what. I mean, I’m here, aren’t I? I chose her, over and over again, every single day. Laying my head on the back of the sofa, I close my eyes.
Admittedly, I know I should have said something the moment I found out, but then again, we don’t begin and end with each other. We have lives; we exist outside the marriage and our bedroom. Last time, I’d been so consumed and everything had imploded and this… this isn’t my first marriage.
The restless feeling of things slipping away feels the same though.
And I didn’t think it would go like this the second time around.
Fuck, I never really thought I’d be in this situation again.
Married.
Yet I am. Not only married, but with a baby on the way.
What if everything spirals out of control again like it did before?
What if she figures out that I’m not good enough?
I talked to her, opened up. Maybe not completely, but I have to keep some things to myself, right? Not forever. Just until I figure out what the fuck I’m going to do about Jessica. How I’m going to keep her poison from infiltrating my life again.
How can I keep her away?
There in the back of my brain, the doubt is festering like a wound. I worry she’ll—not cheat, Brandi won’t do that—turn her back on me. Take the baby from me. And that will be a thousand times worse than losing my brother.
To lose everything when it shouldn’t even be that, because I didn’t tell her immediately that my brother and his ex-wife are back in town.
Imagine if I tell her Jessica called me?
What will happen then?
I don’t want to know.
I don’t want any of this at all.
With a sigh I open my eyes and get up.
By the time I grab something light to eat, shower, and get ready for bed, Brandi is sleeping, her back to me.
For the first time since we’ve been together I turn off the light and get into bed and don’t reach for her.
I’m too afraid of her pulling away from me to try.
I just need to give her space.
Brandi is gone the next morning when I wake. A note on the kitchen counter simply says in her rounded handwriting she’s gone in early for her shift. And my stomach turns leaden. I wipe a hand over my face and make myself a coffee that I barely taste.
What I need to do, know I have to do, is make things right. I need to tell her everything. All through my workday that thought stays with me. When I’m finally on my way home, I send her a text letting her know I’m picking up something for dinner.
Yeah, get the girl through her taste buds. That isn’t exactly a thing, I know, and it isn’t anything more than a bribe to get her to talk to me.
Might as well start somewhere,I think as I pass the small flower store on the way to the little Italian place Brandi said she wants to try but I haven’t had a chance to take her to yet. Cold weather and lasagna, it seems perfect. Something to feed our baby and our souls, and maybe with some kind of chocolate-laden dessert, I’ll be able to find my way back into my wife’s good graces.
I place my order at the front desk of the restaurant, the air filled with the delicious aroma of garlic and tomatoes and basil. With a sigh, I turn away from the mouthwatering scent and step back into the cold.
The florist is starting to close but I know the uniform I’m still wearing scores points and sometimes a foot in the door.
