AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m scared to tell him.”
“What the hell for? Has he said or done anything to make you feel that way?”
“No. But… Things have been a bit tough lately. Financially. And you know how expensive babies are.”
“Is the Salon struggling? Is that why you were worried about the new shop?”
She shakes her head. “No, that’s the only thing keeping us afloat right now. The construction business is crazy competitive, and he hasn’t been getting as many jobs as usual. He lost a huge deal last week, and you know how things die down during winter,” she says glumly.
“So what are you going to do?”
Her smile is a bit sheepish. “Put my big girl panties on and just tell him.” She puts her hand on her stomach. “I know it doesn’t look it, but I’m incredibly happy about this little peanut. The timing just could have been better.”
CHAPTER TEN
BAILEY
TAKING Adeep breath, I relax back in my chair. It’s a sunny day, and tourist season is in full swing, making us extremely lucky to get a table outside on the deck without a reservation. Our position offers us the perfect view to take in the sights and sounds of the bustling harbor. I’ll never get tired of seeing boats gently sway on the water, waves slapping lightly against their hulls, while seagulls float in the air, circling the boats of fishermen unloading their catch of the day. Tearing my eyes away from a happy couple holding hands and boarding one of the luxury yachts offering cruises around the harbor, I turn my attention to Quinn.
He’s been so quiet I can almost pretend he’s not here. He doesn’t look relaxed, and I don’t know if he’s on edge about something or bored. His fingers are drumming against the table, his phone lying next to him.
I’m starting to hate that thing. It’s hard not to resent something that’s replaced you in your husband’s life. There was a time when Quinn couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off me. Now, I’m the second fiddle. No matter what we’re doing or talking about, if it even slightly chirps, everything comes to a screeching halt.
My lips turn up at the thought of grabbing it and flinging it into the ocean. I can just imagine the look of horror on his face when it hits the water with a satisfying smack and slowly disappears, giving us a break from the damn thing.
“What are you smiling about?” he asks, a slight frown furrowing his eyebrows.
“Nothing special.” I pick up the menu, perusing the options more out of habit than necessity. I already knew what I was going to order before leaving the apartment.
“What are you getting?” Quinn asks, scanning his menu.
“Pizza. I’ve been craving it something fierce.” Bianco’s is known for their variety of craft beers, signature cocktails named for local landmarks, and enormous lobster rolls. But it’s their wood-fired pizza that’s my downfall. I can’t resist the slightly charred, chewy crust that gives it a smoky flavor without being dry. Add to that garlic sausage, loads of mozzarella, and chili flakes, and I’m in heaven. It’s not like I have to worry about garlic breath when Quinn kisses me. I can’t remember the last time he initiated any kissing beyond a quick peck on the lips. “One would think I’m pregnant,” I joke, but my feeble attempt at humor backfires when Quinn drops his menu, swallowing heavily.
I purse my lips, all my anger and frustration from the last few months bubbling to the surface. “Relax, Quinn. You need to have sex to get pregnant. You do realize it’s been forever since you’ve touched me?”
“Bailey, don’t start. You know it’s—”
“I know, I know. You’ve been busy. You’ve been stressed. You’re tired,” I mutter, not interested in rehashing all the excuses he’s given me a hundred times.
“You know my job is important to me. Important to our future.”
“Our future? What future? One where I hardly see you? One where nothing ever matters but work? One where I’m so damn lonely I either want to scream or cry?”
“Now you’re just being dramatic,” he scoffs, and my temper hits nuclear proportions.
I take a deep breath and look out over the ocean, trying to reel in my emotions. Be calm, Bailey, be smooth. We need to communicate, and fighting is not the right way to do it. When I manage to calm myself a bit, I look back at him.
“Dramatic? I didn’t realize wanting time with my husband was being dramatic. The other day you told me it was nagging. Now I’m being dramatic. When did you become so dismissive of my feelings?” I keep my voice calm, my face neutral. Anyone walking by would think I'm discussing the weather.
“Bailey,” he coaxes, his voice pained. “You know I care about you. That’s why I work the way I do. To give us a better life.”
He’s starting all his sentences with a “You know.” I know nothing anymore at this point, but I keep that thought tucked down deep.
“And I appreciate it. I really do, but I didn’t realize we needed a better life. I’m happy with the way our life is. We were doing well enough between the bookcafe and your salary before your promotion.” Well enough to afford to buy a house and start a family. “It feels as if the more invested you become in work, the less of an ‘us’ there is.”
He exhales harshly. “Getting the promotion wasn’t enough. I still have to prove that their faith in me wasn’t misplaced. Once I’ve cemented my position, things will calm down.”
“For how long, Quinn? Give me some kind of timeline here.” Anything I can hold on to, to make this more bearable. “Our lease is coming up. Are we going to renew it or stick to the plan?”
