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“We barely see each other as it is. You work and I study. That’s all we do. I want to live now, Massi, not when we get old.” She stood up, leaving the unfinished glass on the table. She rose on her tiptoes to get a mug and filled it with water. As she drank, I wondered if it was just a ploy to hide her tears. Her profile seemed so fragile at that moment. Like she could crumble any minute.
“Baby, Four Seasons is a few months’ gig. Jacques Froleau is a guest chef there currently. He’s famous. Watching him work, helping him, is priceless for my career.” I snaked my hands around her waist from behind, inhaling the scent of her. The scent of a meadow that had always brought peace to me.
She wiggled to turn around, her face rigid. “You know what’s priceless for your marriage? Spending time with your wife.”
I stepped back, her words hitting like a slap, hard enough to spark my temper. “I’m spending every fucking minute of my free time with you. That was the point of getting married.”
“Yeah, convenient for you. At least before you made an effort to seek me out, to sneak a moment here and there. Now, you know I’ll wait here for you, so you don’t hurry anymore. Once a week tango lessons and you can’t even give me that?”
With every word that came out of her mouth, my frustration rose, twisting at my guts. How could she not understand I was at the beginning of my career? How could she not understand I was doing it for our future family business? Fucking tango. Really?
“Before you continue accusing me, I gave notice to Frederick. Exactly for that reason. In two weeks, I’ll only work at the Four Seasons and once that’s over, we’ll open our own place. But, baby, if we don’t focus now, we won’t succeed. We’ll dance tango later, I promise.” I wrapped her in a tight embrace. God help me.
Reluctantly, she curled her hands around my neck. Lifting to her toes, she kissed me. I captured her lips with all the passion, frustration and love cruising through my veins. After a moment, she relaxed in my arms and I finally felt like home.
I picked her up and she squealed, swatting at me gently, but clinging to me eagerly. I carried her to our bed, which really was only four steps away from the kitchenette, and we made love.
Loudly.
Voraciously.
Honestly.
Over the past month, our bed had become the only place where we seemed to communicate effortlessly. Without judgment, disappointment or disagreement. We would lose ourselves in each other’s arms and everything made sense. At least for those few intimate moments, our marriage seemed like the best idea ever.
With every touch, with every moan, with every consuming sensation we reminded each other why we wanted this so much. All in, until we’d find release from our everyday reality.
And then, for a few moments, life was perfect.
“I’m late,” Blue murmured, her breath hot in the crook of my neck as we lay spent, our bodies tangled. A veil of perspiration glued our skin together, and our legs intertwined as I turned to face her.
“Late for what? It’s almost midnight.” I stroked her head and sought her eyes.
“My period.” She smiled tentatively, but my face must have shown the void my mind produced. “I missed my period by two weeks now.”
“Jesus.” I rolled onto my back, disconnecting from the bundle of love our bodies created. Immediately, my skin prickled with goosebumps.
“Jesus? That’s your reaction?” She sat up, glaring at me.
“Well, the timing would suck, don’t you think?” I jumped up and strode to the window.
The lights of the city across the river flickered with the excitement and adventure Manhattan served to everyone daily. Here, the walls of this fucking studio were closing in on me.
“First, we don’t know I’m pregnant yet, but good to know you’re so thrilled.” Sheets rustled and footsteps retreated to our mini bathroom. The door slammed.
“Of course I’m not thrilled. A kid is the last thing we need right now,” I yelled.
The door sprang open again and Blue, with the expression of a warrior princess, marched up to me. “Well, I’m sorry if your fucking semen inconvenienced your plans.”
“I thought those wereourfucking plans. Our. Or were you just nodding without listening because your mind was already on nurseries and fucking baby showers?” I paced around, but within the minuscule square footage of this place it infuriated me even more.
“I’m right there with you and your plans, but I didn’t make this baby all by myself, you asshole.” She sobbed, the sound arrowing directly to my heart, squeezing at my chest painfully.
“Blue, for fuck’s sake, we’ll have time for kids later, but let’s just first get the business running, get a bigger place. Where the fuck would we live if you’re pregnant?”
“I don’t know.” She hiccupped her words now, tears streaming down her face. “We would figure it out. I thought you loved me. I thought you wanted to be with me. I thought we got married to become a family. Not only so you could fuck me at your convenience without my parents interfering.” Her breath hitched.
And now I was pissed at myself. I didn’t want her hurting, but how could she not see how having a child would set us back? I approached her slowly and cupped her tear-stricken face. The pain in her blue eyes stemmed from my attitude and reaction.
