Trying

by Heather MacKinnon

  I did the only thing I could.

  I took a small step back, freeing me from whatever hold Mason had had on me. His lips twisted in displeasure, but he let his hand drop and I felt the spell between us break.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, and swallowed, like he could devour the words he was going to say. His eyes continued to scan my face, and I felt so open, like I was emotionally naked and laid out before him.

  Finally, he spoke. “I’m always here for you. I’m always going to be here for you. It doesn’t matter what’s happened in the past or what’s going to happen in the future. You’ll always have me. And I’ll always want you.”

  I reared back at his words. I know he admitted before that he cared about me as more than a friend, but I thought we’d gotten past that. I thought he understood that I was married, and nothing could happen between us. Had I just been too ignorant to see that he’d never given up?

  “Mason…” was all I could come up with to say. I didn’t even know what to say but figured something should come out of my mouth after everything he’d just said.

  The corner of his eyes crinkled with a smile and he took a step backward. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Kenny.”

  And as I stood there like an idiot, Mason climbed in his car and drove out of the parking lot, leaving me more confused than ever.

  I spent the rest of the weekend at Josie’s apartment, imposing on her further. She assured me it was no big deal, but I knew I couldn’t stay there forever. And even if she let me do that, there was no way she’d let me off the hook with Bryson.

  “Mack, you need to talk to him.”

  “I will.”

  “When?”

  I shrugged as my eyes stayed glued to the television in front of me. “Soon.”

  She huffed out a breath and picked up my phone that had been resting on the coffee table. I reached out to snag it back from her, but she leapt off the couch, making sure to stand out of reach. I shrugged again. There was no point in hiding it from her. She’d heard my ringtone going off repeatedly for days.

  “He’s called five times today?” she asked. I nodded absentmindedly. “It’s not even noon.”

  “I know.”

  “Has he left a message?”

  “Nope. Not one.”

  “A text?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  “Huh,” my friend intoned.

  “Huh is right.”

  “Why do you think he’s calling?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t really know. That’s why I’m not answering. If he’s calling to accuse or yell at me some more, I don’t want to hear it.”

  My friend was quiet a moment before speaking up again, her voice deep and serious. “You know I love you being here, but you can’t stay forever. You need to face him, eventually.”

  I sighed. “I know. I was thinking about going back over there after work tomorrow.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” It was clear from my tone of voice that I was less than thrilled at the idea. But, Josie was right. I couldn’t avoid him forever. He was still my husband and the father of my baby. I needed to talk to him eventually even if he was a super huge douche again.

  “I think that’s a really good idea, Mack.”

  I shrugged again. “If he’s a dickhead, can I come back here?”

  My friend laughed lightly. “Of course. You know you’re always welcome here, dummy.”

  I smiled despite the black hole in the pit of my stomach. I really really didn’t want to face Bryson again, but I knew I was running out of options. And my first doctor’s appointment for the baby was coming up. I needed to at least tell him about it. I doubt he’d take off work to come with me, but he had a right to know. Even if we felt like the furthest thing from a family right now.

  The work day on Monday passed by far too fast. I was still struggling with the nausea and vomiting frequently throughout the day, but I was almost getting used to it. I’d become an expert at getting the sickness over with and making myself presentable enough to go back to work.

  It was a fact of life, that when you were anticipating something, the minutes ticked by unbearably slow. And on the converse, when you were dreading something, the hours flew by like there was a race no one informed you of.

  I did my best to prolong my work day, waving goodbye to a suspicious looking Josie and even sending Mason away when he came by to walk me to my car. When I’d run out of busy work, straightened my desk, and even rearranged my drawers full of writing and drawing utensils, I finally had to admit it was time to go home.

  I comforted myself with the knowledge that Bryson likely wouldn’t be home for hours. That he’d been coming home late for months and there was no reason to expect any different from him tonight.

  That’s why when I pulled up to the house at half-past six, and found his car in the driveway, my stomach fell, and my palms began to sweat. I called myself a coward six different ways as I parked in the driveway behind him.

  I made my way to the house and stood in front of the door, not feeling like I had the right to just open it anymore, but also feeling too foolish to knock. Finally, I straightened my spine and reminded myself that this was my home too. Just because I’d spent the better part of a week sleeping somewhere else didn’t make it any less mine.

  With that firm resolve, I used my key to unlock the door and stormed through like I was a member of the FBI conducting a raid. I almost expected Bryson to be standing in the front hall waiting for me, but of course he had no way of knowing I’d be here.

  I closed the door with a thud and set my things on the table next to the door. I’d usually kick off my shoes and get comfortable, but I felt like I needed to keep the added benefit of their height on my side. There was something vulnerable about being in your bare feet and I needed to feel empowered, not weak.

  Bryson came streaming out of his office and stopped short when he saw me standing there. His eyes assessed me, taking a noticeably longer look at my midsection before meeting my eyes.

  “You’re home.”

  I straightened my spine and nodded. “We need to talk.”

  His greenish brown eyes flashed. “You could have answered one of my calls.”

  “You could have left a message,” I shot back.

  “What we have to talk about shouldn’t be left on a voicemail, Mackenzie.”

  I tilted my head to the side, silently agreeing with his words.

  He ran a hand through his already messy hair and looked at me warily. “Do you want a cup of tea?”

  I felt my eyes widen in shock. It was common knowledge that I liked to enjoy a hot cup of tea after work, but not only had he not been home when I took my evening tea in a long, long time, he hadn’t offered to make me one in even longer.

  My first reaction was to tell him no and do it myself. I’d been getting along just fine without him for months, why would I need his help now? On the other hand, I could see that he was making an effort here, and if I wanted to be a part of what fixed us, I need to tame that inner bitch some.

  So, I shrugged. “That would be nice.”

  Bryson let out a breath that seemed to relax his previously tensed shoulders and nodded his head toward the kitchen. “Come sit down while I fix it.”

  I followed him into our monochromatic kitchen and took a seat at the table, feeling out of place. He pulled down the tin of tea and shot a look over his shoulder.

  “Chamomile okay?”

  He’d even remembered the kind I liked to drink at this time of day. I simply nodded, afraid of what would come out of my mouth if I opened it.

  Bryson set the kettle on the stove and unwrapped a tea bag, gently placing it in a mug before wiping up a few drops of spilled water and carefully draping the dish rag back on the front of the oven. When it seemed he’d run out of things to do, he took a deep breath and spun to face me.

  He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms across his broad che
st. His crisp white shirt bunched up along his biceps, and I tried not to stare. I cleared my throat and turned my eyes to the floor as he shifted on his feet.

  We were silent for a long time, neither of us willing to break the tense atmosphere. Or maybe he, like me, had no idea where to even start.

  Finally, he took mercy on us, and began to speak.

  “How have you been?”

  “Pretty shitty. You?”

  His lips twisted into what looked like a reluctant smile. “About the same.”

  There were a dozen words on the tip of my tongue, and I opted for the most truthful of them. I figured this wasn’t a time to leave things unsaid. “That surprises me.”

  His light brows furrowed as his eyes studied me. “Why’s that?”

  I tried to bite the words back, but they fell from my lips, anyway. “I didn’t think you felt things like that anymore.”

  His arms dropped to his sides, and he stood up straighter. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I met his gaze head on. “Just that I didn’t think my absence would be such a big deal when you’ve spent so little time with me lately.”

  “You think I wouldn’t miss my wife sleeping somewhere else instead of beside me?” His words were low and careful, delivered with pinpoint accuracy.

  I just shrugged. “I can’t count the number of nights I went to bed without you.”

  “Because I was working, Mackenzie.”

  “You were always working, Bryson.”

  He ran both hands down his face in frustration. “I need to work. I need to make money.”

  “You used to be able to do those things and still make time for me. What changed?”

  His eyes held mine for only a moment before they darted to the ground. I could tell he didn’t have an answer for that, no quick remark, or snarky response.

  Luckily for him, the kettle on the stove began to whistle. He spent the next couple of minutes fixing a cup of tea for me, scooping a single spoonful of sugar in the mug and giving it a stir before bringing it over to the table.

  He slid the mug in front of me before taking a seat in the next chair over. Both hands ran through his dark blond hair before settling on the back of his head. I blew at the steam wafting off my tea and watched him, noticing for the first time, the purplish bags beneath his hazel eyes.

  I had a gut feeling that this was it. This was the conversation that would determine the fate of our relationship. If we could come to some sort of agreement or understanding, maybe we could work on what was broken and get back to a place where we were both happy. If we couldn’t, if we started slinging insults and accusations back and forth again, I had a sinking suspicion that there would be no saving us.

  Chapter 24

  “How are you feeling? With… you know… the pregnancy and everything?” Bryson finally asked after watching me drink my tea for a few silent minutes.

  “Honestly? Terrible.”

  He frowned and sat up straighter. “Is something wrong with the baby?”

  I shrugged. “Haven’t been to the doctor yet.”

  “Do you think there’s something wrong? Should we go to the hospital now?” He rose halfway to his feet before I placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

  “It has nothing to do with the baby. I’ve just been sick.”

  “Sick? How?”

  “Morning sickness.” I laughed humorlessly. “Except it’s all day.”

  “Is that normal?”

  I shrugged again. “That’s what I hear.”

  “Will it always be like this?”

  “Shouldn’t last too long after the first trimester.”

  “And when is that?”

  I shrugged once more. “My best guess is I’m about six weeks pregnant now, so I’m a little over halfway through.”

  “Who’s taking care of you?”

  I bristled at his question. “I’m taking care of myself.”

  “Mackenzie. I know how you get when you’re sick. You’re impossible.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Well, I haven’t had anyone to lean on, so I’ve had to manage by myself.” A brief image of Mason flashed in my mind, but I knew now wasn’t the time to bring up how much he’d helped me. Even now, thinking of how thoughtful he’d been for bringing me a ginger ale every day at lunch made my chest tighten.

  Bryson’s eyes fell from mine. “I would have taken care of you if you’d been home,” he mumbled.

  I laughed but there was nothing happy about it. “When, Bryson? You’re never home and when you are you’re never here. It wouldn’t have mattered where I was because I don’t register on your radar anymore.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  He shook his head before running a rough hand through his hair. “Why did you leave?”

  “You know why.”

  He slammed a hand down on the table between us. “I don’t. You knew I was working. I told you I was with a client. Why did you make such a big deal out of it?”

  “Why did I make such a big deal out of it?” I repeated his question slowly, hoping I hadn’t heard him right. When he just nodded his head, I knew I had. “Bryson, I was waiting at home to tell you that night. I waited for hours. I’d called you and specifically asked you to come home at a decent time, so I could surprise you with the news. I made you your favorite dinner that night.” I was panting by this point, out of breath like I’d just run around the block. “You couldn’t even bother to pick up my phone calls and when you did, I find that not only are you still in your office at nine o’clock at night, but that you’re with a female client.” I made sure to sneer that last word, so he’d know I still wasn’t sure I was buying that. “Who meets with their accountant at nine at night, Bryson?”

  “It was an important account, Mackenzie. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Well then tell me this: Was there anyone else still working at that time? Or was the office empty besides you and this client of yours?”

  His eyes fell away from me again and I knew I had my answer.

  “Exactly,” I said.

  He jerked his head up and speared me with a fiery look. “Why don’t you tell me something now? Have you really been at Josie’s all this time?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Where else would I have been?”

  “I don’t know, Mackenzie. Why don’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t know what you’re insinuating.”

  He scanned my face as if he was trying to discover the lies on my features. “You just seem to be so close to Mason these days, and he knew you were home and even I didn’t know you were going to be here. I just wondered if you’d spent this past week with him instead of Josie.”

  “Are you calling me a liar, Bryson?” My voice was low and deadly, daring him to answer that question.

  He shrugged and placed both palms on the table, his shoulders so tense they reached his ears. “It’s just a question, Mackenzie. Why won’t you answer it?”

  I jumped to my feet, and the chair clattered to the floor behind me. I leaned over the table far enough that I could jab a single finger into his hard chest. “I told you where I was. If you choose not to believe me, that’s your problem, not mine.”

  Bryson stood from his chair and took a step away from the table, crossing his arms over his chest. “I saw the way he danced with you at the party. I saw the way you looked at him. You expect me to believe he hasn’t acted on that?”

  My lunch date with Mason that had gone terribly wrong came to mind immediately and Bryson must have read it on my face.

  “I knew it,” he scoffed.

  I took a deep breath in through my mouth and let it out slowly through my nose before responding. “He’s admitted he has feelings for me.”

  “I fucking knew it.”

  “But I told him I was married. That nothing could happen between us.”

  He moved closer to me, crowding me with his big body until my butt was against the kitchen t
able. “Then why is he still chasing after my wife?”

  I held my ground and speared him with a glare. “Maybe because he senses I’m your wife in name alone.”

  His eyes flared dangerously. “That give you the right to fuck him, Mackenzie?” he purred.

  I placed both my hands on his chest and shoved as hard as I could until I had room to breathe. Room to think without his presence confusing all my senses. Because as much as I hated to admit it, despite how angry I was with him, how disgusted I was by his line of questioning, and how he’d treated me these past few months, my traitorous body still reacted to him like nothing had ever happened.

  “I haven’t slept with Mason. I wouldn’t. Stop accusing me of things I haven’t done.”

  Bryson threw his hands in the air. “I forgot. Mackenzie is perfect, and it’s me who’s the problem, right? You had no hand in our destruction, right?”

  I felt tears prick at the backs of my eyes, but I refused to allow them entrance. Their presence let me know I needed to wrap this up before I cried in front of the last person I ever wanted to show weakness to. “I admit that I wasn’t always easy to love. I know I gave you a hard time during the fertility treatments. But, I haven’t cheated on you. Not with Mason, not with anyone. And I won’t stand here and let you keep accusing me of something I haven’t done.”

  I spun on my heel and stormed toward the front door, forever grateful I’d left my shoes on. Swiping my keys and purse off the front table, I ripped the door open before I heard Bryson call out to me.

  “If you leave again, you might as well stay gone.”

  I kept my back to him, knowing I had no control over the tears that flowed freely from my eyes now. With a simple nod, I stepped through the door and shut it softly behind me. There was no need for me to slam it. No need to rage. It was done. Over.

  I willed my feet to carry me steadily to the car where I slid inside, ignoring the tears that steadily streamed down my face. I pulled out of my driveway for the last time and began the short drive to the place that had been my refuge and would now be my home until I figured something else out.