A Conflicted Woman

by T. B. Markinson

  “Did Maddie call or text?” I asked Ethan, immediately kicking myself for falling into his trap. Lately, I was realizing the perils of being book smart.

  Sitting in his recliner, he pressed his hands into his thighs as if trying to curtail his excitement. “I knew something was troubling you.”

  My eyes darted to the ceiling. “Nope.”

  “Nope, nothing’s troubling you? Or nope, you don’t want to talk about it?”

  “Both.”

  He cocked his head, his brow furrowed. “How can it be both?”

  “It just is.”

  He nodded. “Ah, the Casey answer.”

  “Says the man who doesn’t open up much about things. Like your marriage.” I whispered the last word so Casey wouldn’t hear.

  “Oooh, that was a good attempt to get me to shut up.” His kind eyes stayed on mine, not overly inquisitive, but with an openness to unload my angst.

  Damn him. After all these years, Ethan knew how to work me. And this human need for comfort was confounding me.

  I glanced at the stack of books by his chair. “Meg’s back.”

  “I heard.” He steepled his fingers and rested his chin on the tips.

  “It’s weird.”

  “I imagine.” He spread his fingers briefly but returned to the steeple position.

  I couldn’t have this conversation in Ethan’s home, while our children conducted a tea party—well, Casey was doing her best to keep them involved, but Ollie was morphing into a drunken pirate banging her tiny cup against the table, yelling something that sounded like grrrr.

  Luckily, Sarah and Lisa waltzed into the room, laughing. Both of them gave us a look implying they were making fun of us.

  “I do believe one of us is the source of the fun.” Ethan rose and kissed Lisa on the cheek.

  “Do you think the only thing we can discuss is our spouses?” Lisa shot back with an evil grin that lacked her typical warmth.

  Ethan backpedaled. “Of course not.”

  Lisa seemed somewhat mollified.

  Their relationship had always been rocky, and that had helped Ethan and me reconnect while I was still in grad school. Back then, he had claimed no matter how hard things got between them, they had a bond that kept them together. Their closeness was refreshing to witness, making me believe relationships, no matter the obstacles, could survive. Over the last six months, their bond was visibly fraying, and I worried they were cruising for divorce court.

  Ethan continued. “I just know that laugh. It’s the one implying someone is an idiot, which usually is directed toward a spouse.”

  Lisa huffed, turning her back to him. “Whatever.”

  Ethan wheeled about to me. “Dropping it and fast.”

  Perched on the side of the couch, Sarah ringed her arm around my neck. “Probably for the best. Dinner will be here in ten.”

  “Casey, it’s almost chow time. Put your toys away, and go wash your hands.” Ethan gestured chop-chop.

  “It’s a tea set, not a toy,” she grumbled, although she got to work.

  Sarah and I wrestled with the twins. Getting Ollie to relinquish her cup involved switching her focus to her stuffed giraffe, which immediately spurred Fred to reach for it. Before Sarah and I could separate the twins, both started crying, Ollie’s face turning a deep shade of purplish red. Neighbors three blocks away could probably hear their shrieks.

  Wide-eyed, Ethan asked Lisa, “And you want another baby?”

  Lisa, unperturbed by the commotion that was already dissipating due to Fred’s lack of urgency to take on his sister, said, “Yep.”

  I smiled at Ethan. “I recommend twins. They’re twice the fun.”

  Sarah kicked me. “Don’t get in the middle.”

  “Says the woman who insisted we use my eggs.”

  “If we do have another child, rest assured, we won’t ask for your eggs,” Ethan said.

  I clipped Ollie into her car seat. “Your loss—”

  Sarah rushed the words out. “Is our gain.”

  “Wait, are you thinking of using my eggs again?” My insides clenched.

  “Would that be so weird?”

  “Do we want to risk our perfect family with more of my offspring? You’ve met my family, right?”

  Sarah and Lisa shared a look that didn’t sit well with me. Was that what they’d been discussing? How to convince their unwilling spouses to increase the world’s population? And with more Petries?

  As if in tune with my thoughts, Ethan thrust a finger at them. “No more bonding time for you two.”

  From their expressions, neither took his words to heart.

  With a hand on Ethan’s arm, I said, “We’ve had a good run, but in the interest of our marriages, not to mention the Doomsday clock ticking closer and closer to kaboom, for the lack of a better world, we need to stop seeing each other to prevent them from conspiring.”

  “That’s exactly what Lizzie needs. Fewer friends to be there for her,” Sarah said to Lisa.

  Lisa added, “Ethan would be lost without her. When I’m nagging him, he loves to say, ‘Lizzie did this’ to distract me.”

  I jarred Ethan’s shoulder with mine. “You throw me under the bus to get out of trouble?”

  He bobbed his head. “Every chance I get.”

  “That’s despicable.”

  “Are we going to watch Despicable Me?” Casey had returned from the bathroom and now stood next to Ethan.

  “Yes, with the twins.” Ethan motioned for me to arrange the twins in front of the television while Lisa and Sarah moved the plastic table for Casey to sit at while she ate her pizza in front of America’s number one babysitter.

  The kitchen table, where the adults would sit was within view of Casey and the twins but offered a semblance of privacy.

  The doorbell rang.

  Ethan rubbed his hands together. “Dinner’s ready, folks.”

  While Ethan was at the door, Casey approached Sarah. “If you have another baby, you should do it right this time.”

  The kid must have heard everything while in the bathroom.

  Sarah failed to suppress a smile. “Meaning?”

  “You don’t ever let Freddie or Ollie wear blue or pink.”

  “We don’t want to force…” She paused, probably trying to think of a way to explain gender politics to a child.

  “Boy or girl things.” Casey elevated a hand in the air. “I get it. But, you still gave them boy and girl names.” Her eyes lit up. “What are their middle names?”

  The color leeched out of Sarah’s face, so I answered, “Frederick James and Olivia Rose.” The look of disapproval on Casey’s pinched face compelled me to say more. “James was Sarah’s father’s name, and you’ve met Rose, Sarah’s mom.”

  “How come neither is named after one of your parents?” Casey peered upward into my eyes. “You have two kids and two sets of parents.”

  “Um… that’s very logical.” Unlike my response. “They have my last name.”

  “Did you change your last name?” Casey asked Sarah.

  “Yes.” For some reason, Sarah seemed uncomfortable with this answer. We thought it too cruel to the twinks to hyphenate Petrie-Cavanaugh.

  I felt compelled to say, “You’ll always be a Cavanaugh to me.”

  “Casey, time for dinner.” Ethan stood behind his daughter with two pizza boxes in his hands. “And, we have chocolate chip cookies for little ones who behave.”

  Casey made a beeline for the plastic table.

  After serving his daughter and cuing up the movie, Ethan took his seat at the grown-ups’ table. “I don’t know what we’re going to do in a few years.” He glanced over his shoulder. “She’s too smart for her own good. It’s like she’s an adult trapped in a child’s body.”

  I nodded, while Sarah and Lisa shot him a withering look.

  “Her zero tolerance for BS is refreshing,” Sarah said, recovering from being schooled by an elementary student about not taking her beliefs to the ex
treme.

  “And intimidating,” I added.

  “Not surprising, coming from you.” Ethan chomped into a slice.

  I clamped my hand on his shoulder. “Now I feel pressured to keep screwing up in order to save your marriage.”

  “Yeah, that’s why you do and say things that get you in trouble. For me.” Ethan placed a hand over his heart.

  “You totally owe me.” I swiped one of the pepperonis from his slice.

  “How do you live with her?” Ethan asked Sarah.

  In bed later that night, I asked Sarah, “Are you serious about wanting to use my eggs again?”

  She opened one eye as if not entirely willing to enter this conversation right when she was about to drift off to sleep. “I’ve thought about it, but only briefly, so don’t get your panties twisted just yet.”

  “Is this because of Meg?” I supported my head on bent elbow.

  “No… not really. I go back and forth. Not just about using your eggs but about having another child. The last two months of pregnancy weren’t fun.”

  I readjusted onto my back and fluffed a pillow behind my head. “When I was a kid, I used to dream about nice parents adopting me.”

  Sarah rolled over on her side, placing her hand on my chest. “Daydream or dream dream?”

  “Both.”

  She nodded as if she’d guessed my feelings before. “Do you still wish for it?”

  “I’m a bit old for adoption, I think.”

  “No one is ever too old to want to be loved.”

  “Things have changed some. Dad, Peter, and I are adapting. I’m not sure how to put it. We’ve grown to be there for each other, and now there’s Helen.”

  Sarah remained quiet, but her eyes were wide-awake now. She burrowed against my side, an indication she was willing to chat. “Have you considered adopting a child?”

  I ran my fingers through her silky dark hair. “I haven’t thought about it much. Not sure why I brought it up, really. Except maybe, I worry Ollie and Freddie will someday wish they were adopted.”

  She laughed. “Oh, I imagine when they don’t get their way, they’ll say stupid things in the midst of a tantrum. Especially Ollie.”

  “Are we good parents, Sarah?” I asked in all seriousness.

  Sarah propped up her head. “Yes, I think we are.”

  “Failure isn’t an option, not when it comes to the twinks. I don’t want us to be like Ethan and Lisa. Casey’s never mentioned it, but she has to pick up on the fact her parents aren’t getting along. Not like they used to.”

  She planted a tender kiss on my lips. “We’ll make mistakes, but we won’t outright fail. No one really knows what they’re doing as parents. Even when their children are grown and they start dating a boy toy.”

  “I’m not sure Troy falls into that category.” Deciding it was best to dig deeper, I said, “Speaking of tense situations that may affect the kids, how are you dealing with Troy now?” She didn’t answer, so I changed tactics. “If he wasn’t dating your mom, would you like him as a person? A friend, even?”

  She shot me a withering glare. “You need to stop hanging out with Casey.”

  Unperturbed, I forged ahead. “Does that mean you think Troy’s a decent man?”

  She sucked in a deep breath.

  “What if they got married?”

  Sarah lurched up. “Whoa! Where’s this coming from? Did my mom say something to you?”

  I motioned for her to settle down. “No. I was only asking hypothetically.”

  Sarah refused to speak, giving me the feeling she’d have issues having a stepfather. Finally, she said, “I thought we were talking about the twinks.” She scrambled out of bed and jerked her head for me to follow suit.

  “Before I do, can I say one thing?”

  She heaved an exasperated sigh but nodded her consent.

  “Before we really consider having more children, I think it’s important for us to resolve certain family issues.”

  “Meg and Allen?”

  “That’s one problem I need to handle. And you need to fix the situation with your mom. Both of you act semi-normal around the twinks, but if either of them is half as cunning as Casey, I think they’ll start to pick up on it. I meant it earlier when I said failure isn’t an option.”

  Sarah, once again, didn’t speak, but the recognition in her yes confirmed she knew I spoke the truth. “Come with me.”

  I did.

  We stood in the nursery doorway, watching our children sleep in their cribs.

  “They’re happy. That’s all we need to accomplish.” Sarah rested her head against my shoulder. “Perfection isn’t possible, but understand this; they both know how much we love them. And I believe if we used your eggs again it would all work out.”

  “Same goes if we used yours.” I kissed the side of her head. “I love them and you, even if you’re being stubborn about things I’m not supposed to mention.”

  “Look who’s talking,” she whispered, jouncing her hip into mine.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The following week, Sarah and I splurged on a five-star hotel and spa in Boulder for a weekend away. She didn’t outright say so, but I think this was the first step of Sarah offering an olive branch to Rose, trusting Troy, who I was certain stayed over every night, with the twinks for an entire weekend. And, miraculously, Sarah had checked on them only twice, granted we’d been away for just a few hours.

  On our way back to the hotel, after a romantic dinner followed by drinks at Prohibition, Sarah said, “When we get back, I need you to hang out in the lobby bar for a few minutes. I have a surprise for you.”

  “Really?” I slipped my hand into hers when we crossed Pearl Street. “Good or bad?”

  She laughed nervously. “We’ll see.”

  Intrigued, I turned my head to appraise her profile. “You like to keep me on my toes.”

  We reached the hotel entrance.

  “I’ll text you when I’m ready.” She kissed my cheek.

  I took a seat at the bar, and the bartender in white shirt, red-checkered tie, and charcoal vest asked, “What can I get you?”

  I wasn’t sure how long Sarah would be, so I opted for a Coke instead of tea.

  “Just a Coke?” He poured a drink into an elegant sapphire-colored glass, adding some orange peel and sprigs of mint. The recipient oohed and aahed as if it was the fanciest drink she’d ever been served.

  “Yep.”

  The bartender mercifully complied, not bothering to try to upsell me.

  A man and woman in their sixties took the two seats next to me.

  While the bartender took their orders, I whipped out my phone. I’d learned scanning my device prevented people from initiating small talk. As I perused the headlines of the New York Times, I sipped my Coke.

  My phone chimed, and I read Sarah’s text alerting me to come upstairs.

  Upon opening the door, Sarah instructed me to close my eyes.

  I complied, carefully easing into the room, not wanting to bump into the four-poster bed.

  “Okay, you can open them.”

  “Oh, wow.” I blinked.

  Sarah wore black suede stiletto boots, which laced in the front and ended right below her knees, lace-topped stockings, garters, and a matching bra. No panties. Her hair was fluffed in the way I’ve learned to know meant I want you to fuck me good and hard.

  “You’re staring,” she said.

  “No. Leering. Ogling. Goggling.” I made a motion implying my eyes were popping out of my sockets.

  “I think there’s a bit of drool.” She tapped one side of her glossed lips with a newly manicured nail.

  I swiped the right corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. “Too much ChapStick,” I lamely defended.

  “The other side as well,” Sarah said in her bedroom voice.

  My eyes roamed up her body. Down. Up again. “I don’t—”

  “Maybe speaking isn’t your best option right now.”

  I
nodded.

  She tapped a black stick with a paddle-like thing at one end and a fluffy feather at the other against her leg. “Ah, you’ve noticed my riding crop.”

  I swallowed.

  “It’s for spanking, but you’ve read Fifty Shades series, so you know that.” She was clearly enjoying herself.

  My eyes widened further, the extra oxygen causing them to water.

  “And tickling.” She jerked her head to the bed. “And there are some restraints.”

  I peered around and spied nylon straps snaking from underneath the bed. Four in total. “You want me to tie you down?”

  She shook her head.

  “Me?” I croaked, placing a hand on my chest.

  “You’ve been bad.”

  “I—”

  Sarah took three massive steps, stopping in front of me. With her hand covering my mouth, she said, “I said no talking. If you do—” She slapped the crop against her leg. “Now, strip!”

  I lifted my V-neck sweater and polo over my head somewhat clumsily due to shaky hands. Sarah motioned for me to hurry up. I let my gray chinos drop to the floor and stepped out of my cotton panties, flinging them across the room with my toe.

  She smiled. “You forgot your bra. Or did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

  I started to defend myself, but her crop-wielding hand flickered, silencing my tongue. I slid the bra straps over my arms.

  Sarah pointed with the crop. “On your back.”

  I slowly made my way, wondering what in the hell had gotten into my wife. My mind raced over the details of the day and discovered not one clue that she planned on punishing me—not like this anyhow.

  Granted, I’d purchased the Fifty Shades books to breathe life back into Sexy Sarah, but I didn’t mean for her to take it to this extreme. A riding crop? Whipping?

  Sarah secured my right wrist. Then my ankle. The other one. And, finally, my left wrist. She’d tugged on each to ensure I couldn’t escape.

  My eyes followed her as she patrolled the perimeter of the bed, slapping the crop against her palm. “Where should I start?”

  Fuck, she looked hot as hell.

  I took a deep breath, bracing for the pain.

  I should have known when I stumbled upon the sequel to Fifty Shades of Grey tucked into one of the travel bags. But, the thought of my sweet wife, tying me up to torture me had never crossed my mind. Shouldn’t she have at least broached the subject beforehand? Or had my buying her the books been all the permission she needed? Not to mention reading portions aloud to each other?