It had taken three days of relentlessly researching doctors, forty-seven phone calls, seventeen pots of coffee, and almost two whole cheesecakes, but Abby finally got them into one of the leading therapists in the San Francisco area. Now, one would think that after all her hard work, Whit would have at least shown up to the appointment, right?
Wrong.
So very, very wrong.
The first time Whit had missed their appointment time with the vaunted Dr. Essex Snyder, he’d claimed to be caught in a traffic snarl during rush hour. The second time he’d been scheduled to see the therapist with her, he said he’d been waylaid by the Dean of Business in an unavoidable meeting. And honestly, who knew what crap Whit would come up with for missing their slot in Dr. Snyder’s busy practice today? For the last three appointments, she’d sat alone on their therapist’s very comfortable couch and complained about her spouse and his penchant for ignoring what was important to her. Honestly, unless he was kidnapped by aliens or taken hostage by terrorists, she wouldn’t be inclined to forgive him this time. She’d endured one too many pitying looks from the doctor’s receptionist. She’d listened to her therapist remind her one too many times that one spouse couldn’t save a marriage singlehandedly.
In short, Abigail was at the end of her rope.
“Abby! Sis, are you hearing a frickin’ word I’m saying? Tell me if you smell burnt toast! Seriously, blink if you can hear me,” Lucy ordered, tilting her head to eye her seemingly impaired sibling critically.
Feeling someone vigorously shaking her arm in a way that threatened to pull it out of its socket, Abigail frowned and turned her head to see her baby sister’s slightly panicked eyes staring at her. “Ow! I’m fine, Luce. Quit shaking me.”
“Jeez. Don’t scare me like that, Abs. I thought you were having a stroke or something,” Lucy admonished her with a sour look.
“Sorry,” Abby muttered apologetically. “I guess I just got trapped inside my head with all my worries there for a second. I couldn’t find my way out of my own mind.”
Lucy’s brow furrowed as she considered her sibling for a long minute. “It’s that bad between you and Whitlock?”
Dropping her head and staring at the cheesecake on the table, Abby’s throat tightened as she tried to give voice to her biggest fear – the one she hadn’t yet had the courage to verbalize at all.
Reaching across the table, Lucy covered Abby’s chilled hand with her own and squeezed reassuringly. “It’s just you and me here, Abs. You don’t have to pretend. What’s going on with you and Whit?”
“I… I think he might be having an affair, Luce. My marriage… it’s in real trouble,” Abby admitted, her normally upbeat voice thick with unshed tears. She stiffened as she heard Lucy’s responding amused laughter.
“Are you kidding me, Abs?” Lucy cackled, rolling her eyes. “You actually think Whit… honorable, noble, all-around-sweetest-guy-on-the-planet-who-loves you-more-than-his-life Whit is actually cheating on you?”
Abby shifted uncomfortably as her sister shook her head and stared at her like she’d just proposed they vote in Mickey Mouse for president. “It’s not nearly as crazy as it sounds, Lucy. Especially not with the way he’s been acting lately.” And for the next twenty minutes, Abigail set about pleading her case, sharing all the recent troublesome details of her marriage with her doubtful sister.
“So, you see,” Abby concluded several long minutes later, “the idea that Whit might have been unfaithful isn’t as farfetched as it sounds. He’s detached, distant, and oddly secretive. Good Lord, he won’t even take phone calls with me in the room with him anymore. I’ve even thought about hiring a private investigator to follow him and find out what I want to know.”
Stunned silent by the information that her elder sibling had divulged, Lucy blinked several times, unable to speak.
“Well?” Abby huffed impatiently. “You’ve never had trouble holding your tongue before, Luce. Don’t start now.” Luce snorted at that, and Abby watched her lick her lips.
“Abs, I don’t want to upset you any more than you already are, but you’re forgetting that I know you. In fact, I know both you and Whitlock. You guys have practically been like a second set of parents, and I think you’re forgetting some pretty pertinent details in your story involving the last couple of years, aren’t you? Don’t you think Whit might have some pretty good reasons for being distant?”
Rising from her seat at her kitchen table to pace the length of her kitchen, Abigail couldn’t bear to look her sister in the eye. She knew exactly what her know-it-all sibling was talking about. Of course, she did; they were a closely knit family, and normally that fact offered her comfort. Today, however, she cursed the fact that her well-meaning family knew so much about her business.
“Abs,” Lucy called quietly.
Closing her eyes, Abby fought for composure. Even after all this time, their three painful miscarriages and heartbreaking failed adoption attempt had the power to render her nearly inconsolable if she spent too long thinking about them. So, she spent an inordinate amount of time trying very hard to distract herself. Which, in the recent months, had become quite a bit easier since Whit’s current behavior was just about all she could handle.
“I don’t want to talk about that, Lucy,” Abby whispered, her voice thin and fragile in the mostly quiet kitchen.
“Yeah. I get that, sis. And that may be part of the problem. You’ve stopped talking about it entirely. To me. To mom. To Whit. Have you ever considered that he might need to talk about it?”
Hanging her head in defeat, Abby whispered, “Don’t you think my inability to give Whit a family might just be one more reason he could have fallen into an affair, Lucy? He won’t even talk about our options anymore. I offered just a couple of weeks ago to go through with another round of IVF! He looked at me like I was insane and told me, point blank, that he refused to watch me endure another miscarriage. And when I brought up a-adoption,” she continued, the word catching in her throat. “Well, he just brushed me off. I don’t think he even wants a family with me anymore.”
“Abby, you’re putting words in Whit’s mouth. You have no idea what he’s thinking,” Lucy denied gently, watching her sister wrap her arms around herself as she leaned against the granite-topped kitchen island in the center of the room. Rising, she grabbed a cell phone off the table and moved to stand in front of the other woman. “You know what I think?” she asked, bending her head as she began tapping out a message on her phone.
“I’m afraid to ask,” Abby murmured, watching as Lucy concluded her text message and clicked send.
“I think it’s time to face shit head-on.”
Cocking her head, Abigail fought the urge to reach for her sister’s neck and strangle the life out of her. Didn’t she know that she’d been trying to address the situation? What the hell did the younger woman think the therapist was for?
As if Lucy could read her sister’s mind, she smirked at Abby. “Stop looking at me like I have a penis growing out of my forehead. What I mean is that I think you’re trying to speak the wrong language to Whit, babe.”
“Come again?” Abby arched one eyebrow.
“Abby, you’re trying to force Whit into confiding personal, private facts about his life to a complete stranger. Hon, no man is gonna like that,” Lucy explained, looking down at the cell phone in her hand again as her fingers flew over the screen.
“Whit talks to people all the time, Lucy. All. The. Time,” Abby informed her sister as she crossed her arms over her chest and clenched her jaw.
“Yeah, sure. He talks to people about stuff that doesn’t matter,” Lucy returned evenly. “We all know he’ll pass the time of day chatting about the weather or the current state of our economy or any other of a hundred boring subjects, but never have I once heard him talk about anything personal to him. Not even to the fa
mily, Abs. Suddenly, you’re expecting the man to be willing to divulge the most intimate details of his marriage to somebody he’s never met? Talk about stuff he can’t even say to his closest friends? Yeah, I’m sorry, babe, but that plan had ‘FAIL’ written all over it from the get-go. And if you’d bothered to talk to me before things got this bad, I would have told you that.”
Throwing up her hands in frustration, Abby shoved both her hands into her wheat colored hair and dug her nails into her scalp. “I was desperate, Lucy! Desperate! He won’t talk to me anymore. I had to try something.”
“Maybe you should try talking in a different language,” the younger woman suggested gently as she held out the phone in her hand to Abigail.
Abby’s sapphire eyes narrowed. “Is that my phone? I thought you were using your phone,” she grumbled, snatching her slim iPhone out of her sister’s hand. “Who did you text, Luce?” she growled, swiping her thumb across the screen to wake up the device only to nearly hyperventilate when she saw the conversation that appeared on the screen. Jaw dropping, she read the discussion on screen.
Abby: W – I need you to come home early. Be here in two hours. We need to talk.
Whit: Can’t, Abs. I’m sry. Impt mtg with dept head.
Abby: Reschedule. This can’t wait. Two hours.
Whit: What’s wrong? Are you okay?
Abby: Just be here. Two hours, W.
Whit: Calling now. I’ll be there.
Hanging her head, Abby bit her lip and groaned. “Oh, Luce,” she moaned, still staring at the words on the screen. “What did you do?”
Shrugging, Lucy stood her ground. “I just reopened the lines of communication with your man for you. You’re welcome. Don’t screw it up.”
Lifting her head to stare incredulously at the unapologetic younger woman, Abby looked at her with horrified wonder. “You want me to say ‘thank you’? Are you nuts? I don’t do things like this!” she yelled, shaking the incriminating phone just inches from her sister’s nose.
“What?” Lucy questioned innocently with a frown.
“This!” Abby yelled, waving the phone once again. “I don’t text Whit with demands. That’s not how we work,” she whispered, looking back down at the screen and wondering how she could fix this.
“How do you work, Abby?” Lucy asked quietly.
“I wait,” she answered distractedly as she silently debated texting Whit and telling him to disregard the previous conversation. Unfortunately, she didn’t think he’d appreciate the truth that her interfering sibling had hijacked her phone and decided to get involved in their marital troubles. God knew, Abby didn’t want to add even more problems to their already shaky marriage. And intrusive family members just might send him over the edge.
“You wait,” Lucy repeated in a decidedly snotty tone.
Turning her attention back to her baby sister, Abby nodded. “Yes, I wait. I wait for Whit to come home from work and then I try to speak to him. I don’t interrupt him at the office with demands to be here at a designated time! It’s rude.”
“So, if you don’t think your marriage should be a priority, why should he, Abs?”
“Huh?” Abby stared at Lucy, confused. “My marriage is my biggest priority, Luce. I’m fighting to save it.”
“Then fight, damn it! Make yourself into a priority in Whit’s eyes. Demand his attention!” Lucy ordered sternly, pointing at the phone. “I just helped you out a little with that. Again, you’re welcome. Now, phase one is complete. On to phase two,” she announced valiantly, snagging Abby’s arm and marching her out of the kitchen, past the spacious living room, and down the long hallway toward the master bedroom suite at the back of the house.
“What in the world has gotten into you, Luce?” Abby asked as she tried to dislodge her arm from Lucy’s grip as the other woman shoved her into her bedroom.
“Sit!” Lucy ordered, jabbing a finger toward the huge California-king bed in the middle of the room.
Looking over her shoulder at the determined face of her younger sister, Abby gulped. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen that particular expression on Lucy’s face, but it never boded well to argue with the younger woman when she got like this. Heaving out a heavy sigh, she trudged toward the neatly made bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress and smoothing her hand over the elegant forest green comforter. “Okay, I’m sitting. Now, what?” she questioned as she eyed the little fireball currently throwing open the door to her walk-in closet.
“Now, I try to find your sorry ass a smokin’ hot outfit to greet your handsome husband. Hopefully, I can locate one that’ll add a little wood to Whitlock’s mighty oak tree, if you know what I’m sayin’,” Lucy’s muffled voice replied from the depths of Abby’s closet.
Raising her eyes to the vaulted ceiling of her bedroom, Abigail was striving for patience. Lifting her arm to glance at her watch, she fought tears. She had exactly an hour and forty-five minutes to come up with a good reason for calling her husband home in the middle of the day, and her sister appeared to be more concerned with her wardrobe than the oncoming psychological break. Abby just hoped they chose one of the more upscale funny farms when they admitted her to a mental hospital. “I don’t have a freaking clue what the hell you’re talking about right now, Lucy! I’m sort of in the middle of a personal crisis here.”
“Yeah, that shows in your closet, Abs,” Lucy retorted, sticking her head out of the walk-in to glare at her sister. “All your clothes are either yoga pants and tee shirts or old woman clothes! Where are the sexy duds in here? You’re young and you’re hot. Do Whit a favor and start dressing like it, okay?” she begged before disappearing back inside the closet.
Abby rolled her eyes. “I dress like a professor’s wife when I have to go out with Whit, and when I’m here alone writing, I like to be comfortable. Sue me!” Abby shouted back.
“Whit should,” Lucy returned as she flipped through the rack of her older sister’s clothing, wincing at the choices. “Because honestly, sis,” she continued as she breezed back into the bedroom holding a dress over one shoulder, “Your current wardrobe should be classified as a crime. Except,” she paused for dramatic effect, “for THIS!”
Abigail smiled as she stared at the classic little black dress Lucy displayed in front of her. “Oh, man… I forgot I owned that one. It’s the dress I wore on my first date with Whit.”
“No wonder he fell for you like a ton of bricks, babe,” Lucy noted with a wink. “This dress is HOT!”
Abby smiled sadly and shook her head. “I used to look good in it, too, but sadly, I’m a little old for it now. It probably doesn’t even fit, Luce. If you like it, take it with you.”
“Woman, are you certifiable? This dress will look like heaven on you. It’s got that spandex material in it so it’s meant to stretch and give a bit. And besides, if it’s a little snug, so what? Whit will love peeling it off you!”
Abby released an empty laugh. “Lucy, Whit won’t be peeling anything off me. We haven’t had… I mean, we don’t …let’s just say, that there’s been something of a long walk in the sexual Sahara for me.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s because you’ve been talking in the wrong language to your man. You’ve been trying to talk to him through therapists and marriage counselors, hon. You and Whit don’t need an intermediary. You need to go back to basics. Talk to him in the language of love.
“What?” Abby balked. Had her sister fallen and hit her head? What the hell kind of advice was this? “Talk to him in the language of love?” she echoed. Frowning, she glared at her younger sibling. “Have you taken some new age sociology class that I don’t know about? Tell me you aren’t thinking of changing your major again. I refuse to listen to another three-hour phone call from our parents about your lack of focus, Luce! Seriously, I am not my sister’s keeper! I don’t know what kind of mental min
d meld Mom thinks we have, but you need to tell her that I have absolutely no power over you,” Abby pled, already dreading that phone call she knew she’d be getting from their mother if Lucy again decided to alter the course of her life by pursuing yet another line of study at university.
Lucy rolled her eyes. “No, worrywart. I’m quite happy with my current course load, thank you very much. I’m just saying that maybe you need to speak a more elemental language to your husband. Maybe one without words.”
Abby stared at her confounding sibling and felt an odd mixture of bemusement and irritation. “I don’t care what mom said. I think you were adopted. There’s no way any blood sister of mine could be this confusing. How the hell do you want me to talk to Whit if I don’t use words, you whack job?”
Lucy laughed in Abby’s annoyed face as she tossed the dress on the bed beside her. “It’s easy, sweets. You’re gonna climb that massive man of yours and have a discussion of a more intimate nature.”
Abby frowned. “Still about as clear as mud, Lucy.”
Leaning down until she was nose to nose with her sister, Lucy stared her in the eye. “Fuck him silly, sis. Trust me, there’s no more honest conversation in the world than two people coming together in the most primal way there is. You fuck his brains out, wait until he’s good and relaxed, basking in the afterglow of the incredible sex you just had, then, when it’s all calm and peaceful, you tell him that you feel like he’s been slipping away from you and lay your worries and fears out for him. That’s when you’ll get some honesty out of the man.”
“And if he admits that he’s been having an affair? After I’ve just boinked his brains out? What then?” Abby asked nervously as she burst into tears, her heart pounding in her chest as she considered what his confession would do to her. Complete decimation wouldn’t be a strong enough description. Whitlock had been her entire world for years – especially since they hadn’t managed to create a full family together. Oh, her heroes and heroines always got the beautiful bouncing baby at the end of the books she wrote, but she’d never been able to give that joy to her own husband. No wonder he was drifting further and further away from her. Still though, if she learned that he’d actually cheated, she wasn’t sure she could ever get over that.
Little Black Dress Page 2