Trying
By
Heather MacKinnon
Trying
Copyright Ⓒ 2018 by Heather MacKinnon
Book cover: fiverr.com/germancreative
Editor: fiverr.com/dafununbean
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All Rights are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Present
Tick.
Crinkle.
Slurp.
Crunch.
This was the soundtrack to my morning.
Every morning.
Bryson sat across the kitchen table from me, one hand gripping the morning paper, while the other alternated between holding his steaming mug of coffee or bringing his dry wheat toast from the plate to his mouth.
The clock on the wall counted down the seconds until we’d both need to leave for work, and this awkward routine ended.
Crunch.
Slurp.
Crinkle.
Or maybe it was just me who felt the awkwardness. Bryson seemed perfectly content to quietly work on his breakfast while I watched the second-hand tick away the time until I could make my escape.
The sky outside was gray, the oatmeal in my bowl was gray, the walls of this kitchen were painted gray. I looked down to my gray pencil skirt and white blouse. When did everything in my life become so monochromatic? When did all the color leech out of our days?
“Did you sleep well?” I asked him, finally unable to handle the weight of the silence between us.
“Mmm,” he intoned mid-sip, “like a baby.”
The flinch was involuntary.
I didn’t blame Bryson for his slip of the tongue. Even after all this time, it was still hard for him to grasp how that word affected me. How a simple four-letter word had ruled my life for so long. How I hated it as much as I yearned for it.
“How’s work been?” I tried again to engage him.
His mouth was full of toast and his eyes still roamed the paper in his hand when he responded. “Good, good. Everything’s going well.”
I sighed, and slid my spoon through my oatmeal, digging a hole in the center of the bowl that I wished was big enough for me to crawl into. It didn’t surprise me that Bryson hadn’t reciprocated my questions. He hadn’t asked me how I was doing in months. I suppose after getting the same answer over and over, he finally stopped asking.
Because my answer was always “fine” although we both knew I was far from it. So, if we both knew what my answer would be, and we both knew it was a lie, why bother, right?
That was Bryson’s mentality at least. I, on the other hand, couldn’t stand the silence that stacked up between us, like massive Lego blocks that interlocked and grew until that was all we could see.
And what color were those blocks? If you guessed “gray”, you’d be right.
Buzz.
My phone lit up on the table next to me, Mason’s name flashing across the screen, and I bit back a smile. Not that it would have mattered if my grin spread from ear to ear. It wasn’t like Bryson was paying attention, anyway.
Still, I hid my excitement and surreptitiously slid my phone onto my lap where I unlocked it with my fingerprint and read the message that had just arrived.
Mason: Good morning :-)
My hands shook slightly, and my stomach tightened as I carefully typed out a response.
Me: Good morning. How are you?
There. That sounded friendly enough. Not at all like there was anything between us. Not that there was. But, still. I needed to keep the line between friendship and something more very clear and make sure I stayed on my side of it.
I peeked across the table at Bryson as he flipped a page of his newspaper and took the last bite of his toast. Again, I asked myself why I bothered with the subterfuge when it was clear I was as good as invisible to my husband.
My phone buzzed again in my lap.
Mason: I’ll be better when the quarterly meeting is over. Are you ready for it?
I barely suppressed a groan at the reminder.
Me: As ready as one can be to fight the urge to nap on the conference table.
Mason: I’ll poke you if I hear you snoring ;-)
The loud crinkling of the newspaper had me snapping my head up to see Bryson dab his mouth with a napkin and rise to bring his dishes to the sink. It shouldn’t have at this point, but it still stung a little that he didn’t wait for me to finish my meal anymore.
I grabbed my half-full bowl of porridge and followed him into the kitchen. While I took care of rinsing my bowl and placing it in the dishwasher, Bryson busied himself with collecting his briefcase and keys, following the same morning routine he’d had for the past five years we’d lived here.
When he finished, he finally looked my way with a small smile that didn’t reach his hazel eyes. They had always been my favorite feature of his, the way his dark eyelashes framed his pretty irises used to steal my breath. Now, they just reminded me that the man I used to know didn’t live there anymore.
Even though so many things had changed, physically he was still the man I married. Tall, with wavy dark blonde hair that he wore longer on the top and shorter on the sides. His face was still indescribably handsome, with a well-defined jaw he kept clean-shaven. Straight, white teeth hid behind dark pink lips.
I realized in that instant that I missed him. How I could miss someone I saw every day, who I slept next to every night, was a mystery. But, I did.
I didn’t know how we got to this place. Strangers living together inside a house that wasn’t a home. Roommates who orbited around each other, but never quite touched.
The need to reconnect, to try to fix what was broken rushed through me, and I opened my mouth. “Hey, tomorrow’s Saturday. I was thinking maybe we could do something?”
His expression stayed the same, not even a flicker of emotion in his eyes. “Yeah, sure. I’ve got to work in the morning, but we could do something after that.”
I smiled wide, hoping it would set off a chain reaction in him. It didn’t. “That sounds great.”
He nodded absentmindedly. “How about dinner and a movie? I’ll call and make a reservation at Theresa’s later today.”
My smile dipped a fraction of an inch. “Theresa’s? We always go there. I thought maybe we could try something new?”
Anything to shake up this dreary world we lived in.
His thick brows dipped. “I thought you liked Theresa’s?”
“Of course, I do. I just thought we could try somewhere new.”
It was like I was explaining advanced physics in Russian.
“New?” He scratched the back of his head. “Where did you have in mind?”
My mind went blank.
I couldn’t think of a single restaurant. Not one recommendation. “Um, I don’t know. Is there anywhere new you’d like to try?”
He looked sheepish. “Not really. I like Theresa’s.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay, we can go to Theresa’s.”
“Hey, if you really don’t want to go we can find somewhere else. I just thought it was your favorite.”
It was my favorite. But, I’d also been there hundreds of times. I wanted something new. Something fresh. Exciting. And Theresa’s was safe and boring. But, without a better option, I didn’t have much to complain about.
“It is my favorite. It’s fine. We’ll go to Theresa’s.”
He nodded. “Okay, and then we’ll go to a movie after? Your pick.”
Great. A movie. Where we could sit in the dark and avoid conversation. Like we needed more silence between us.
“Sounds great,” I lied.
He walked toward me then and bent to kiss me on the side of the head.
It used to be my mouth he kissed.
It seemed like over time, he’d somehow wandered farther and farther away from my lips and landed somewhere in my hair. I wondered how long it would be before he stopped kissing me altogether.
“Have a good day, Mackenzie. I’ll see you later tonight.”
That was another thing that had changed. My name. He never used to call me Mackenzie. It had always been Mack or Kenzie, but never both of them combined. And in fact, pet names used to be the standard between us. I used to be “babe” or “hun”. Now I was just Mackenzie.
“Have a good day, Brys.” I tried using his nickname in the hopes it would spark something inside him. A flicker of the man I used to know. But, he didn’t even acknowledge my platitude as he walked out of the kitchen and through the front door.
My phone buzzed again with another incoming message.
Mason: Is your car still in the shop? Do you need a ride to work?
My car was still in the shop. Something Mason concerned himself with, but my husband hadn’t. I could take an Uber. I should take an Uber, but Mason’s offer was more tempting. It sent rapidly flapping butterflies careening through my stomach and it had been so long since I’d felt anything. I wanted to make that feeling last.
Me: Yeah, that would be great. I’ll be ready when you get here.
His answer was immediate.
Mason: I’m just down the block, I’ll be there in a minute.
My stomach clenched painfully as I realized Bryson might still be here when Mason arrives. I flew through the kitchen and to the large bay window at the front of the house. My sigh of relief was loud in the silent house as I was greeted by the empty driveway.
I stood there, staring at my reflection in the window, watching the blue eyed, dark haired woman and wondering what she was getting herself into.
Even though I knew I was in the clear, and that I wasn’t technically doing anything wrong, the idea of driving to work alone with Mason had my stomach in knots.
Everyone at our graphic design firm had exchanged numbers at some point due to projects we’ve been assigned together but only Mason used mine for anything besides work. It had started out innocently enough. A text here asking for clarification on a project, a text there wondering about something having to do with work. Slowly they’d become more personal and less professional.
This morning was a great example of the line he was slowly crossing. I didn’t receive “good morning” texts from any of my other coworkers and wouldn’t expect to. It wasn’t exactly unprofessional, but it also wasn’t completely innocent either.
And what about him already being close to my house when he asked if I needed a ride? He’d mentioned before that he lived on the north side of town and I was west of our office in the center of the city. He would have had to leave his house early and practically drive past work to get to my house.
All these suspicions swirled in my head while the butterflies circled my organs like sharks that smelled blood. I knew I was straddling a line here between what was appropriate for a married woman and what was not, but I found it harder and harder to care.
It wasn’t like Bryson bothered himself with what I did. I could probably invite Mason in here for breakfast and Bryson would ignore him behind his paper just like he did me.
Did that make it right? My gut and my common sense told me it wasn’t, but my gray world had a tiny spark of color when Mason was around. He made me smile. I was desperate to hold on to that.
Maybe if I was around him long enough, I’d be able to feel something again besides this numbness that had spread to every corner of my body. Maybe if I let his colors inside of my bleak life, he’d be able to paint my walls a different shade. Something warm. Something with life. Something I’d want to wake up to in the morning.
Besides, it wasn’t like I was doing anything wrong. There was nothing physical between Mason and I. We were just friends who texted each other frequently. That was all. There was no reason for me to feel guilty about just talking to another man. I talked to men all day. None of that could be considered inappropriate, so why should I be worried about this?
My phone buzzed and instead of checking it, I peeled back the curtains again to find Mason’s dark blue SUV in my driveway.
My stomach clenched in a strange way like I was part excited and part nervous. But, I had no reason to be either of those things. This was just a coworker giving me a ride to work. Nothing more and nothing less. The fact that I needed to keep reminding myself of that didn’t sit well with me.
Maybe the problem was I knew Mason was attracted to me. Maybe I was more worried about his intentions than my own.
That must be it because I hadn’t done anything wrong.
I vowed right there that I would work toward making sure Mason understood that our relationship was platonic and was going to stay that way. That didn’t mean I had to give up texting him or abandon this new friendship that had sparked between us. It just meant it could go no further than this. I knew that, and I needed to make sure Mason knew that too.
I nodded to myself, satisfied with the resolution I’d come to.
I walked back into the kitchen to make sure everything was turned off before I gathered my purse and coat. Unearthing my keys from the bottom of my bag, I stepped through the front door and turned to lock the deadbolt behind me. When I lifted my hand, my wedding rings caught the weak morning light, glinting prettily, and I stopped to look at them.
It had taken us a whole year of scrimping before Bryson was able to afford my engagement ring. I remember how secretive he’d been about making payments and how proud he was when he’d finally been able to make the last one.
The wedding ring’s story was simpler, but it meant just as much. It was put on my hand the day we promised each other forever. My mind spun back to that day a little over two years ago, and I got lost in the memories.
Chapter 2
Past
The sky was a cloudless, Carolina blue the day of our wedding. The temperature perfect, with just the right amount of breeze. No one could have asked for a more beautiful October day.
Bryson was in a navy-blue suit with a pale pink tie. He’d gotten a haircut and was clean-shaven as always, but it was his eyes that captured me. Their hazel color was more green than brown as he stared down at me lovingly.
His hands gripped mine the moment I’d finished walking down the aisle and he hadn’t let me go since then. One of them squeezed mine three times, and I smiled wider, returning the gesture. It was our secret way of saying “I love you”.
The officiant finally reached our parts, but our eyes didn’t leave the others.
“Do you, Mackenzie O’Bri
an, take Bryson Thompson as your lawfully wedded husband?”
I took a steadying breath. “I do.”
“And do you, Bryson Thompson, take Mackenzie O’Brian as your lawfully wedded wife?”
His answer was strong and sure, just like his love for me. “I do.”
More words came after that, but the only thing I heard was, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may seal this union with a kiss.”
Bryson’s smile somehow grew wider as he tugged on my hands until my chest pressed against his. He wasted no time capturing my lips with his own and sealing our commitment to each other.
The small crowd erupted in cheers, but my sole focus was on Bryson. Our kiss was almost indecently long and elicited a few chuckles from the crowd before we finally pulled ourselves apart.
We walked up the aisle together to The Turtles’ song “Happy Together”, and Bryson spent most of that time whispering the lyrics in my ear. I couldn’t recall ever being as happy as I was at that exact moment.
The minutes following were a bit chaotic, but shortly after, we were in each other’s arms, slow dancing in a circle to Edwin McCain’s “I’ll Be”, surrounded by our closest friends and family.
The rest of the night passed by in a blur, full of good food, never-ending wine glasses, and laughter, all encompassed by an overwhelming feeling of love. It slid down the walls, pooled on the floors, and flowed between every guest there.
It wasn’t until we were getting ready to head to our hotel suite for the night that we got asked “the question” for the first time.
“So, when can I be expecting some grandbabies?”
It was Bryson’s mom, and she’d had more than a few glasses of wine.
“Oh, Mary, leave the kids alone. They just got married for Christ’s sake. Give them some time.”
I looked at Bryson who smiled at me encouragingly. “Actually, Mary, we’re planning on trying to start a family right away,” I said. “Hopefully we’ll have a grandkid for you around this time next year!”
Mary’s whole face lit up before she pulled both Bryson and I into a tight hug. For such a little woman, she had a tight grip.
“Oh, I’m so happy! You two are going to be such good parents! And you’ll make such pretty babies! I can just picture it now!”
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