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It was the firstweshe’d heard in a long time.
“I think we should talk to her together. It could help a lot if you told her you didn’t need her to get all nines, because she cares what you think. She told me so.”
“I didn’t mean for her to—”
“I know, but she did.” Sarah softened her tone. “We need to rethink our priorities, Nathan.”
His face hardened once more. “You mean I need to rethink mine.”
“For the sake of our children?” If not her, being the unhappy implication. “Yes.” He didn’t reply and she continued, the words settling right into her bones, “Sometimes I feel like you don’t think about us much at all. It isn’t even that you don’t care,” she paused, as the truth reverberated through her. “It’s that you don’t eventhinkabout caring anymore. Why is that, Nathan? What’s changed?”
He let out another sigh as he gazed around the darkened room, almost as if he were looking for someone else to help him out, but there was no one there, no one but the two of them—and the truth. Whatever it was, Sarah knew she was ready for the truth at last. She needed to hear it, even if it hurt.
“Please just tell me!” she implored in a low voice. “Whatever it is. I’d rather know than not know, at this point.”
Nathan stood there for a moment, not saying anything, and then, with slow, deliberate steps, he walked over to the big armchair in the corner of the room and sank into it, his head falling into his hands.
Sarah gazed at him—the slump of his shoulders, his lowered head—and felt her stomach knot with anxiety. She’d told him she wanted to know, but now she wasn’t sure she actually did.
“Nathan…” she said softly, and he lifted his head, looked at her wearily.
“I’m not having an affair, if that’s what you think,” he told her. “Because I can see in your face that that’s what you were afraid of.”
Something in Sarah eased, just a little, at the same time something else tightened up. The tone he’d used wasn’t a reassuring one. It was one that said there was something else—but what?
“Okay,” she replied after a moment, when he hadn’t said anything else.
“I’m justtired,” Nathan told her, and the throb of emotion in his voice took her by surprise. He almost sounded as if he were near tears. “Tired of everything.”
“Everything…?” Sarah repeated cautiously.
“Work. Life.” He paused and then stated with a certain deliberateness, “Us.”
Sarah went completely still, but she felt as if she’d been knocked back, was staggering around.Us. It was a simple yet scathing indictment.
“So, what are you saying?” she asked quietly, when she trusted herself to speak. She felt empty inside, or maybe just numb. “About… about us?”
“I don’t know.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, and then ran them through his hair. “I think… I think I need a break.”
Abreak? Sarah felt as if she’d been handling the home front pretty much singlehandedly, and now Nathan needed a break—from what? Her? His family?
She swallowed down the angry words that were bubbling up and kept her voice measured as she asked, “What kind of a break?”
“I think I need to move out for a bit.”
The way he said it, in a tone of resolve, of acceptance, made Sarah feel as if he’d been thinking about it for some time. This wasn’t a new idea—not to him, at least. It certainly was to her.
“But what about Mairi and Owen?” she asked, her voice rising. “We were just talking about tackling Mairi’s issues together. Are you going to bail on that? On being a father?”
“No.” He looked up at her, his eyes wide, his expression turning anguished. “I don’t… I don’t want to, Sarah, but I feel like I can’t go on as I am. I’m not sleeping, I have panic attacks, sometimes I feel as if I can’t breathe—”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?” she demanded. She wanted to feel sympathetic, but Nathan had been treating her as if she was to blame for his issues, rather than someone who could help him with them. “Nathan?” she pressed.
He dropped his gaze, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I’ve felt like… like you’re part of the problem.”
Sarah recoiled, absorbing the awfulness of his statement.
“I don’t mean that unkindly,” he added, and she let out a hard huff of laughter. How could he possiblynotmean that unkindly? “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am. I just… I can’t do this anymore.”
