Lily giggled and squirmed out of her sister’s hold and graciously allowed Jan to keep her pancake.
Sensing peace reigning again, I took the stool next to January and started to dig into my pancakes as Nate made a few more for himself.
“Mummy, are you coming with us to see the dragon movie?”
“No, baby girl.” Nate spoke for me, turning around to sit at the counter with his breakfast. “Mum is going shopping with Aunty Jo today, remember? We’re going to have a daddy-daughter day.”
Jan clapped her hands in excitement but I noted Lily’s downcast expression. She hadn’t had a daddy-daughter day in while. “Hey, Lily-Bily,” I called softly, and she looked up at me. “How about you and I have a mummy-daughter day tomorrow, and then next weekend, we’ll switch.” I gestured to Nate.
He caught on quickly. “Daddy-daughter for me and you, Lil, next Saturday, and Jan and Mum can have a mummy-daughter day on Sunday.”
The girls seemed happy with this arrangement.
Me?
Well, I was just wondering what happened to family day. I’d come up with the idea of individual daughter time myself, of course, but still . . . where were Nate and I in all of this? Were we not to even spend time together with our kids?
Then of course it hit me that we were spending time together right now and it was more than what some families had. I needed to slap the ungratefulness out of myself.
“Would you rather have a big spot on your nose for the rest of your life or have a bogey hanging from it for the rest of your life?” Jan said.
I let myself relax into breakfast as soon as she asked the question.
It was tradition, our “Would You Rather” games. Something Nate and I had passed on to our kids. So what if Nate and I were disconnected lately? We still had this with Jan and Lily, and I was not going to waste my time mooning over my dissatisfaction when I could be enjoying my family.
“A big spot or a booger?” I said.
She nodded seriously.
“That is a tough one,” Nate mused.
“Very tough,” I agreed. “But I’m going to have to go with booger.”
“Ugh.” Lily giggled. “Why the bogey?”
Jan cackled hysterically, probably at the thought of her mother with a permanent booger hanging from her nose. I reached out and tickled her, making her laugh harder, as I explained. “Pimples are painful. Boogers are not.”
“I think I’m with your mum on this one.” Nate grinned.
“Me too,” Lily said.
“Then I choose the big spot!” my youngest declared.
Of course she did. My kid liked to be different from everybody else.
“Um . . . would you rather lick stamps for the rest of your life or . . . my feet.” Lily smiled mischievously, sticking out her foot to wiggle her little toes.
“Stamp!” Jan declared, throwing her sister a disgusted look.
Nate and I shared an amused look. “I don’t know,” my husband said. “Those little piggies are very cute.”
“Very,” I agreed. “I’m going to have go with your feet. In fact”—I slid off my stool—“I think I’m going to start right now.”
“No!” Her girlish laughter lit up the room as she jumped off her stool to run from me. “I’m too old for this, Mum!” she objected, but still she ran and still she laughed, managing to get past me and out of the kitchen. I finally caught up with her in Nate’s study, sweeping my eleven-year-old into my arms and tumbling to the ground with her as we laughed at our ridiculousness.
Thoughts of my husband’s distance and lack of passion toward me disappeared, fading out into the background.
This, I thought as I tickled my kid, her giggles like bubbles of champagne popping on my skin, this is my happiness.
Chapter Two
This morning with my kids felt like a distant memory as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. The mirrors and lighting in most changing rooms were atrocious. I didn’t understand why they put such crappy lighting and mirrors in there because they made us normal ladies with our cellulite and problem areas look like shit in the clothes we tried on. I hadn’t even gotten into the dress Jo had insisted I try on for the upcoming birthday party I wasn’t sure I wanted.
Instead I’d gotten lost in the image in front of me.
Me. In my bra and knickers.
A long time ago, Nate had helped me. I stopped hating what I saw in the mirror and started to see myself through his eyes. However, I’d never truly gotten comfortable with my naked body. When you had self-esteem and weight issues like me, it wasn’t something you ever really got over. I’d just gained confidence over the years. But with age, the confidence started to wane instead of increase. So much so I’d let Joss talk me into joining her gym and being her gym buddy. I didn’t have a lot of time for it, but I made time, and Joss kept me on track. Still, I liked my food, and after having two kids I was fuller-figured than I was when Nate and I first got together. My weight also tended to yo-yo when I was feeling particularly stressed. Since Peetie . . . well, I’d put on weight.
My waistline wasn’t as trim, my little belly pouch was bigger, although it didn’t jiggle because Joss made me do a million sit-ups. Okay, that was an exaggeration, but it felt like it. And although my legs were long and slender, I had cellulite on the backs of my thighs that no amount of running or time on the cross-trainer and exercise bike seemed to be able to take care of. Moreover, my breasts were no longer as perky as they used to be. Not that they were ever perky, per se, because they were too large to be truly perky, but they’d definitely sat higher on my chest ten years ago.
I looked tired.
I felt old.
And sad.
The sob burst out of me before I could stop it.
Suddenly the curtains on my changing room split open momentarily and Jo stepped through them, closing them behind her before staring into the mirror in concern. “Liv? What is it?”
I tried to get a handle on my runaway emotions but I just couldn’t.
My best friend turned me around and pulled me toward her, holding me tight. I wrapped my arms around her, feeling how slender she was under my hands, and for some stupid reason it made me cry harder.
Jo was a knockout. Like, the most beautiful woman I’d ever met in real life. She couldn’t possibly understand what I was feeling.
But she was Jo. She was also the kindest, most compassionate woman I’d ever met. She could try to understand what I was feeling. “I’m turning forty,” I managed to calm down enough to whisper. “That’s what’s wrong. And I don’t think my husband is attracted to me anymore.”
* * *
* * *
Jo decided dress shopping should wait, and once I had myself together and was in my own clothes, we got in my car and drove back to Kirkliston to my empty house.
My friend insisted I sit down in our snug at the back of the house—it was our smaller, cozier sitting room—while she got us some wine.
Once we were situated with a giant glass of red wine for each of us, Jo put on the stereo so Lord Huron played softly in the background and she demanded, “Speak.”
The need to tell someone, to share how lonely I’d been feeling these last few months, made the confession bubble up out of me. I didn’t feel cornered into sharing. I knew I needed this. Nate had always been the person I turned to when I was feeling sad. Now that I didn’t have him, it was time to lean on my friends. “It started with Peetie.”
Pain shimmered in Jo’s eyes and I reached out to squeeze her hand.
Six months ago, Cam and Nate’s childhood friend Peetie was killed in a car crash with his wife, Lyn. Years ago, just a few years after Nate and I got together, the couple had moved up to Aberdeen for Lyn’s job and we hadn’t seen nearly as much of them. But Nate and Cam stayed in contact with Peetie, and he and Lyn always came bac
k to their home town of Longniddry so their daughter, Sara, could be with her grandparents. The guys had grown up together. They were close.
So Peetie’s death had hit them both hard.
They grieved together and I was glad they had each other.
But . . .
“Cam seemed to turn to you,” I said to Jo. “He seems to be working through the loss.”
Jo nodded. “He is. If anything, we’re closer. It was just a reminder that life is short, you know, embrace what you have.”
Jealousy swept through me and I hated myself for it. “Nate turned away from me,” I whispered, aching with the pain of it. “Not physically . . . We still have sex. But it’s like he isn’t really there. There’s no passion between us anymore. And we always had passion.”
“Liv, have you spoken to him about it?”
“I’m afraid to. I’m afraid to know what’s going on in his head because I don’t think I’m going to like it. I’m not what I was.” I gestured to myself. “I mean, I’ve never been perfect, but you know Nate, he liked his women any way he could get them. I wonder if this disconnect between us, this distance, is because Peetie’s death has made him think about his own life, and maybe it’s not what he thought it would be. I’m scared he’s unhappy with where our life is now. That he’s fallen out of love with me.” I wiped at the tears that flowed silently and quickly down my cheeks.
“Never, Liv, never.” Jo shook her head, adamant. “This is Nate we’re talking about.”
“But you haven’t been here. You haven’t . . . It’s the little things, you know. We used to kiss and cuddle after sex and talk about our day. In the morning, he’d always kiss me before seeing to the girls. And then he’d kiss me before he left the house. I’d be doing the dishes or making dinner, or pottering around, and if the girls were out of sight, he’d come up behind me and feel me up like we were teenagers. It’s all gone now. It all stopped after Peetie died, and I have no clue what that means. I just . . . I feel him slipping through my hands and I have all these thoughts racing around in my mind.”
“What thoughts?”
“That maybe he has met someone else.” The words were out before I could stop them. My deepest fear, finally given a voice.
Jo looked horrified by the suggestion. “No way. Nate would never cheat on you.”
“I know that.” I did know that. “That doesn’t mean he hasn’t met someone.” I took a huge swig of wine, trying to numb the knife-like hurt the thought provoked in my gut. “I don’t know what else to think. I’m just so tired of feeling invisible whenever my husband is around.”
My friend stared at me thoughtfully. “What are you saying? That you don’t want to be with him anymore?”
“I’m saying I hate the way I feel about myself when I’m with him.” And no, that couldn’t last. For the sake of my kids and my sanity, that couldn’t last.
Scooching forward on the armchair she sat on, Jo said, “I’ll tell you something that I haven’t told anyone. A few years ago, Cam and I went through a pretty bad rough patch. It was when he started his new job and he was working constantly. Any free time he had he spent with Belle, which I didn’t begrudge at all.” She referred to their daughter. Belle was seven years old now, and a big sister to Jo and Cam’s one-year-old son, Louie. “I started to feel just like you said—invisible. And hurt. So hurt, Liv.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed it in solidarity. “Finally, I turned up at his work on Valentine’s Day. He’d said he was working late but I wanted to surprise him. Instead I was surprised to discover that while he was supposedly working late, some young, gorgeous little witch of a colleague was perched on his desk, flirting with him. I lost it. Everything I’d been feeling those last few months just came rushing out of me in a hurt rage. I threatened to leave him.”
“Oh my God.” I’d had no idea Jo and Cam had ever had a moment in their relationship when Jo would ever think of leaving him.
“As wrong as Cam had been to take me for granted, I was wrong, too. I didn’t tell him how I was feeling because I was scared of what he’d say. So instead I let it fester, until it blew up into a massive argument. Threatening to leave him hurt him as much as his neglect hurt me. It was a mess. A mess that might not have happened if I’d just spoken up about how I was feeling.”
“But you’re okay now?”
“Of course we are,” she assured me. “And you and Nate will be, too.”
I shook my head, still gripped too tightly by my fear. “I think I’m afraid to know the truth.”
Before Jo could respond, we startled at the sound of the front door slamming shut. I frowned, glancing at the clock on the wall. I thought Nate was taking Jan out for dinner after their day together. And why was he slamming the door?
Uh oh.
I really hoped daddy-daughter day hadn’t ended in disaster.
Jo leaned into me quickly, her thumb swiping under my right eye. “A little bit of mascara,” she whispered.
I smiled gratefully at my friend. Even if she thought I needed to speak with Nate, she wanted me to reveal everything at my pace. The last thing I needed was Nate seeing evidence of my tears and questioning it.
The door to the snug opened and Nate nodded at Jo as he wandered over to the stereo to turn off Lord Huron. “Alright, Jo?” he asked.
“Good. You?”
“Aye, not bad.” He finally looked at me and I stiffened at the blank expression he wore. “Lucy’s mum called and said Lily is staying for dinner. Mum and Dad caught up with me and Jan in the city today. They wanted to take her for dinner so she’s with them and then they’re going to pick Lily up from Lucy’s for us later. Means it’s just us for dinner tonight. Unless you’re staying, Jo?”
“Oh, no. I better get back.” Jo stood up.
“I’ll give you a lift,” I said, scrambling to my feet.
“I’ll do it.” Nate nodded to my wine.
Of course. I gave him a tremulous, grateful smile. “Thanks.”
“I don’t want to put you out, Nate,” Jo said, grabbing her purse off the floor.
“When is getting you home safe ever putting me out, sweetheart?” he said congenially.
She smiled at him and then hugged me tight. So tight. And I knew it was her way of silently saying “talk to him and I’ll be here for you after.” I loved my friend. I kissed her cheek and bid her good-bye.
“I’ll make dinner,” I said as I followed them to the door and asked Nate. “What do you fancy?”
“Let’s order something in,” he said, not looking at me. “When I get back.”
As I waited for him to come home to our empty nest, I paced and paced, and paced some more, wondering if Jo was right and I should come out and ask him up front what was going on.
I thought I’d even worked up the courage, but when Nate finally walked through that door my bravery fled. Instead I wondered if it might be possible to just try and make things better with him. I didn’t want to leave my husband, for goodness sake! I just had to stop feeling sorry for myself and try harder.
So when he was pouring me another glass of wine as we waited on our Chinese takeaway being delivered, I hugged into his side.
He didn’t pull away but he didn’t hug me back either.
The distance between us was even worse than usual. Nate seemed far away, pensive, lost in his thoughts. I knew he wasn’t even paying attention to the action movie I’d put on and it was one of his favorites.
Foreboding crept over me as the evening progressed, lightened marginally when Nate’s parents, Nathan and Sylvie, dropped the kids off and stayed for a cup of tea. Nate laughed with the kids and put them to bed.
However, when his parents left and he and I went to bed, the distance became cavernous.
I switched off my bedside lamp like always and waited.
Nate switched off his light.
The duvet shifted as he pulled it toward him.
No good night.
No kiss.
No sex.
Chapter Three
Sleep evaded me for most of the night, and just as I eventually drifted off into dreamland, the dawning sun shone through our curtains and prodded my eyes open. I lay there, in the early hours of the morning, with my back to my husband, staring at the wall in front of me.
The whole time I questioned whether I was blowing things out of proportion. Maybe I was being ungrateful. Maybe this was how marriage progressed and I needed to wake up to the reality of it.
I’d just never thought that my marriage would be like so many others. For the longest time, I was annoyingly smug about our relationship. I always thought the reason Nate and I had such a strong marriage was because we started out as best friends. We used to be able to tell each other everything. We had the same sense of humor. I mean we laughed a lot. And just as important as our emotional connection was our physical connection. Up until a year or so ago our sex life had been fantastic. Of course, it was never going to be the same after we had kids, because we didn’t have the same privacy, but we got creative. We made time for our passion for one another.
Until we stopped making time.
“I know you’re awake,” Nate said, and I felt the mattress move and the duvet shift over me as Nate turned.
Surprised, I slowly turned around to face him, shoving my hair out of my face. Nate lay with his elbow bent on his pillow and his head braced on the palm of his hand. There was pain in his eyes, and, if I wasn’t mistaken, remorse.
“Nate?” I sat up, my head feeling heavy with lack of sleep.
He licked his lips, his eyes intensely focused on mine. “Yesterday, I got home earlier than you think I did. I heard yours and Jo’s voices coming from the snug over the music, and I was about to go in, let you know I was home, when your conversation stopped me.”
Fear settled weightily in my gut. “Nate—“
“Stop.” He pushed up off the pillow and sat up, running his fingers through his mass of hair. “I didn’t know how to react yesterday and I probably made everything worse.”
The One Real Thing Page 2