by A. E. Murphy
“After we almost died?”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t bring that into this.”
“Then stop being silly. Come here; let’s make up and not waste our few hours of freedom on arguing.”
“No.” It’s my turn to fold my arms. “You either tell me or we don’t talk at all.”
“Fuck,” he snaps and turns away from me. “I can’t do this right now.”
“Do what.”
“This.” He presses his forehead against the wall and blows out a heavy breath. “I don’t want to argue.”
“Then tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing!” He hisses and opens the door beside him.
“Don’t walk away from me, Nathan.”
“I’m giving you space to breathe and calm the fuck down,” he shouts, stomping towards the door. “Is that okay? Or would you like me to sit down and allow you to call me a liar some more?”
“I can’t label what can’t be labelled.”
“What does that even mean?”
He grips the metal handle of the front door. “Last chance to stop this nonsense.”
“Chance not taken.” I step into the living room. “Go, run, but I’m not talking to you when you get back.”
“Oh my God,” he whispers and breathes deep, calming breaths. It won’t do him any good. I’m too pissed off now. I’m determined to get this from him. If he chooses not to trust me with the truth then maybe we aren’t right for each other. “Gwen, please. I booked us in at a really nice restaurant around the corner. Please, come and eat with me.”
“I’m not hungry,” I lie. I’m always hungry and he knows it.
“Come on,” he prompts, smiling as though I don’t hate him right now. “You know you get grumpy when you’re hungry.”
“You’re a patronising shit!”
“Fine.” He raises a brow and leans his shoulder against the door jamb. “Suit yourself.”
I sit on the couch and pout at the unresponsive TV. Nathan, after a few more seconds, sits beside me and places his hand on my thigh.
“I hate this. I feel as though there’s no way out of this.” He murmurs and strokes down to my knee and back up again. “I’m worried…”
“Then be honest.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” he whispers solemnly and I wonder if his aversion to telling me is something as simple as the time I caught him sneaking away to watch SpongeBob in his office. Maybe he’s embarrassed?
“Try me.”
“No,” he sighs. “Can’t you just trust me? Can’t I have a secret of my own? Just for a while until I’m ready to tell you?”
Ready to tell me? “Are you cheating on me?”
His expression is one of horror. “You think I’d cheat on you?”
“I hope not but…”
“This conversation is over.” He stands and straightens his shirt. “If you honestly believe I’d do that, after all we’ve been through, I’ll…”
“What? You’ll what?” I press when he doesn’t finish his sentence.
“I’ll never forgive you,” he responds and exits the room.
“Where are you going?”
“I need space to breathe,” he snaps, repeating my own words from before, rolling his eyes.
“Fine,” I snap back and all but shove him out of the house. “So do I.”
Arsehole. I slap the door with the palm of my hand and silently scream to help relieve the stress I feel. I am so fucking wound up right now. I want to break something.
“Calm,” I tell myself and lean back against the door. “This will pass.” It’s just a rough patch. We just need to get past it. Things are tense with all that has been happening lately.
Now I feel bad, knowing that Nathan has been dealing with the knowledge that his father is roaming free. He’s no doubt suffering and I’m hardly helping.
Shit.
I didn’t get the chance to speak to him yet about who gets the kids in the worst case scenario. We really have to put all of this in writing. Life is too fragile.
I’ve seriously messed this up.
Nathan: Call me when you’ve calmed down.
Gwen: You’re the one who left.
Nathan: Enough. Enough. Enough. I can’t take this.
Why am I pushing this?
Gwen: Sorry, I’m just in a really bad mood right now. This entire thing has escalated to silly proportions.
Nathan: Agreed. We need to reboot this entire night.
I sigh heavily and squeeze my phone tight in my fist. My mind constantly chants at me to calm down and be rational but it’s so frustrating, especially now that I know he is definitely hiding something.
Nathan: Are you hungry now?
I will the stress to melt away along with my petulance.
Gwen: I could eat.
The door opens less than a minute later and I find myself smiling. It doesn’t matter how badly we fight, I love Nathan so much I’ll always be happy to see him.
“Let’s go and eat then.” He grins, winks at me charmingly and holds out his elbow for me to take.
“We’re a hot mess; you know that, right?”
“We’re passionate,” he corrects and kisses my temple. “The day we stop fighting like this is the day I’ll be scared, because it means neither of us care.”
“What about if we keep fighting all the time? What if we break up because of that?”
He locks the door and leads me to the car, all the while saying, “I’d rather break up because we can’t handle the feelings we have towards each other than us break up because we just don’t care enough to confront each other.”
“I’d rather us not break up at all. We need to work together.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” He opens up the door for me and holds my hand as I lower myself into the seat. I wait until he’s beside me in his before I respond. “I hope so. It sure doesn’t feel like it.”
Bringing my hand to his lips, he kisses just below my engagement ring and closes his eyes. “The sooner we make this official, the better for the both of us.”
“Marriage won’t change anything.”
“I’ll feel more secure.”
“More secure in what?” I ask as he puts the car in gear and twists in his seat to see behind us.
“Us.”
“Us?”
“I can’t lose you.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I wish he’d see that. What else can I do to convince him that he’s it for me? I don’t want anyone else.
“It’s not just about that,” he mumbles conspiratorially.
“Then what is it about?”
“Not tonight.” He kisses my hand again and holds it against his thigh. For once I don’t push it; I’m just too drained. We’ll not reach any conclusions to anything while we’re both stuck in such a stubborn mindset. Like with everything Nathan, I have to wait for him to come to me. I chose to respect that when I decided to marry him, to be with him. I’m not going to suddenly stop because it frustrates me.
He’ll open up when he’s ready and when he does, I’ll be ready to listen. I just have to have love and patience.
Which is extremely hard because I just want to know everything now.
We’re late for the reservations but fortunately not by much. I’ve never been to this place before and a huge part of me feels as though I’m cheating on my own restaurant, but there’s no way we could afford those prices right now. Not with how much we’re paying out at the moment and that’s just an estimated guess based on how much Nathan spent the last time we opened a store.
Sure it makes the money back; it’s just the limbo before the profit that we suffer through. We’re still not poor by any means of the word but we do have to watch our pennies until we’re sure the store is going to continuously pull in profit.
“You look lost.” Nathan taps my fingertips that rest around the bottom of my wine glass.
“I’m always in my head these days.”
&nb
sp; Tickling gentle patterns over my knuckles, he doesn’t speak. I think he’s as scared as I am that it’ll start another war between us.
“We should order,” he tells me and I realise that I’ve been sitting here completely ignoring the menu that rests open on the table. His laughter is quiet and loving. Giving my fingers another tap, he removes his hand and takes a sip of his drink.
“I’ll have the salmon.”
“I’m having the steak.”
“Ribeye?”
“Always.”
I flag down the same waiter who escorted us to the table. He comes our way, smiling and happy, looking smart in a three-piece suit. “Are you ready to order?”
Nathan instructs him on our food and how we like it as I peruse the dessert menu. I have to be prepared for later.
“I hate seeing you this lost,” Nathan mutters as the waiter leaves us. My finger circles the rim of my glass, causing a high pitched but quiet ringing noise to sound.
“I hate that there’s something between us,” I respond before my brain can come up with an excuse to push it back.
“There isn’t anything between us.”
“You don’t trust me with your secrets. You know everything about me.”
“Not everything.” He winks as though this entire thing is a joke. That’s frustrating because it’s not a joke; it’s the opposite.
What’s the opposite of joke?
Serious?
Well this is definitely serious.
“It’s good to have a bit of mystery in a relationship.”
“Mystery, yes.” I snap and lean back in my chair. “Lies, no.”
“I’m not lying to you.”
“You’re not?”
“No, I just… I need time.”
“So you’ve said.” I mumble and look away. “This isn’t going to change until you talk to me.”
He blows out a heavy breath. “I’m starting to see that.”
“Put yourself in my shoes.”
“It’s complicated.”
“It always is with you.”
“Please,” he begs and reaches for my hand. “Please let’s just enjoy tonight.”
“I’m trying. Honest to God, Nathan, I am trying.” My teeth bite on my lip. The urge to stand and pace is unbearable but I remain seated purely so I don’t look foolish.
“I love you, Gwen.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“So you’ve said.” I hiss. My hand clenches my glass so tightly I worry it will shatter so I loosen my grip and try desperately to relax my body.
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
When I shake my head, ‘no’, he sighs and rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands. “You used to be more patient.”
“And then I found out my was-to-be husband set me up,” I point out. “I’m feeling a little bitter about patience, as you can imagine. I don’t like not knowing things.”
“We’re really bringing that up now?”
“It brought itself up,” I grumble, no longer feeling hungry or happy. “Don’t look at me like I’m being unreasonable when I’m on the receiving end of your inability to communicate.”
“Okay, let’s stop. This is spiralling again.” He closes his hand over mine and dips his head so our eyes meet. “Please, Gwen, I’m begging you. Just give me time to figure out how I feel about everything that’s happening right now.”
When he asks me so desperately, how can I refuse? “Not forever.”
“No.” His fingertips squeeze mine. “Not forever. Just a little while.”
“Fine, I’ll do my best to leave it alone.” I use my free hand to bring my glass to my lips.
“I love you; don’t ever doubt that,” he implores.
“I love you too,” I reply and we share a loving smile. “I do have faith, you know?”
“I know.”
“Now that things have calmed a bit, I’ve been thinking.” I clear my throat and mentally prepare myself for the conversation about to follow. “We need to decide who gets the kids upon our deaths and get it in writing.”
He blanches and I notice him visibly pale. “Why?”
“Because your parents are awful enough to get custody in the events of our deaths.”
He pales further and nods slowly in agreement. “You’re right.”
“I’m just thinking of worst case scenario…”
“No, I understand. I think it’s smart. Life is short and can easily be made shorter.” He sneers with disgust as his next words spill from his mouth. “And the thought of Dillan and Emily in my father’s care.”
I place my hand over his clenched fist and tickle the knuckles of his fingers with my thumb. “Then we need to get this all in writing as soon as possible.”
“Yes, now we just need to choose who gets them. I don’t particularly trust our parents.”
“My mum has changed. I’d much rather them go to her than them go to your parents.”
“Definitely, but I still don’t feel as though she’d be a good choice for the rest of their lives.”
I wish we had more people in our lives. Good people.
“Sasha and Tommy would be our only other option and I doubt they’ll want to be stuck with our kids,” I murmur and take a large gulp of my wine. It makes my throat tingle.
“We’ll figure it out.”
“Can’t they contest it, though? I mean, if we don’t leave them to family, maybe they’ll contest it and there’s a good chance they’ll win.”
Nathan looks like he wants to punch something… or somebody, hopefully his dad and not the waiter who is heading our way with plates of our food.
“Is this your way of coercing me into going to the Police?” Nathan asks, his brow raised.
“No, of course not, but it would make sense for you to.”
“I just…” His lips thin to a white line and I sense him struggling to meet my eyes.
“I know it’s hard.” I pause when the waiter places our plates in front of us and asks us if we’d like anything else. As soon as he’s gone, I lean forward. “I can only imagine how you feel, but if we take that video footage to the Police, it probably won’t even go to trial. We’ll have his motive for burning the house down too. Not only will he be put away on aiding and abetting a paedophile, he’ll also be on trial for attempted murder and arson.”
He pokes at the food on his plate with a fork, his mind working no doubt a mile a minute. I don’t expect him to speak. I know how difficult it is for him to talk about this. Not only is it traumatising, but to him it’s also embarrassing. He doesn’t like me thinking of him in such a vulnerable position and I don’t blame him. I’d feel the same in his shoes.
My poor Nathan.
“I need time to think,” he whispers after too long of a pause. “Okay?”
I mentally cheer because I know I’ve gotten through to him. “Of course.”
“Shall we eat?”
I nod, feeling lighter from the weight lifting off my chest. “Sounds good. This looks delicious.” Another startling thought hits me, one that sets a childish panic through my heart. “You are still coming for Sasha’s birthday right? Since you’ll be in Essex, which isn’t that far.”
“Of course,” he grins, a stark contrast to how he looked minutes ago. “I wouldn’t miss it. I know how excited you are.”
“Yay.”
When he rolls his eyes lovingly, I know things are good again. At least for tonight anyway.
Chapter Eleven
The morning comes and passes all too soon and work begins even sooner. I miss the days where I just lounged on the couch with new-born Emily, watching TV and trying to nap as Dillan ran riot with his toys.
Working is hard. I thought I could handle it but some days I’m not so sure.
Fortunately, I work with a pleasant group of people, minus the odd one or two grumps that keep to themselves, so it does go quickly. When I’m not constant
ly preparing plates, I’m laughing with my co-workers. Kerim, though he’s the most intimidating of them all, has to be my favourite person at work. When he’s not being a total twat he’s actually quite fun to be around. He likes to play pranks on the others, like the other day he left a novelty mouse trap in Harold’s pocket and yesterday he hacked into Rex’s phone and changed his ring tone to porn. It was hilarious.
Today it was my turn. After taking off my hat on my break I discover noticeable blue lines across my forehead. He’d painted the inside of the seam blue and I hadn’t even noticed when putting it on. Now I have a jagged stripe across my peachy skin.
“It’s on,” I warn, pointing at him with my blue finger, blue because I used it to try and find what everyone was sniggering about. That saying, ‘Do I have something on my face?’ It came true for me. “It is so on.”
“I’m shaking my shoes,” Kerim laughs, his accent heavy and his sentence lacking proper English, but it only seems to make him funnier.
“In my boots,” I correct, only to receive a napkin to my face. “Ass.”
He grins wickedly as I stomp towards the bathroom to wash the blue off. I’m just praying that he didn’t use permanent marker.
As I’m about to bring water to my forehead, my phone rings on the edge of the basin so using my dry pinkie I accept the call and put it on loud speaker.
“Did you get my text?” Nathan asks.
“No, I’ve only just got on break.” I bring some wet tissue to my forehead and scrub at the blue. It only seems to smudge so I frown at my reflection and resist growling angrily. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s that noise?”
“I’m washing my face,” I respond. “Don’t ask.”
“Okay,” he laughs, dragging the word out and I hear Dillan cheering gleefully in the background as though part of the conversation. “I’ve booked your car in for its MOT on the seventeenth. It was the only day they could fit you in. I’m going to get your wheels changed and whatever else needs doing.”
“But Sasha’s birthda…”
“I’ll be home that weekend so we’ll go in my car; it’s no big deal. I figured you won’t need it for work so the timing is pretty good.”