“Hellooooo!” Isa sounded so close I wouldn’t have been surprised if she emerged from beneath the bed. “I thought you guys were sleeping!”
I giggled and held a finger to my lips. “Shhh, don’t disturb the children.”
Shiloh was not amused. “Did you lock the door?”
“It doesn’t have a lock, but I put a suitcase in front of it.”
“Better than nothing. Still, I wonder if we should have looked for a larger place.”
No, no, no. We were not debating our lodging choices right now; we were preparing to throw ourselves at each other with the wanton abandon of two carnal creatures who had no recollection of the petulant tweens they were responsible for keeping alive. “We’re here now,” I said, beckoning for him to join me on the bed. “Let’s enjoy ourselves.”
“You’re right,” he said, lowering himself over me. He kissed me softly, and then not so softly. I would have swooned if I’d not already been horizontal, which was a sure sign I’d been more starved for affection than I’d realized. Here was my husband, with his beautiful body and full attention and wonderful smell, which wasn’t really a smell at all, just his natural pheromone cologne that drove me absolutely crazy. And he was going to finally—dear God, finally—make love to me.
“I’ve missed you,” I murmured as his lips made their way down my neck.
“I haven’t gone anywhere,” he said from my collarbone.
“You know what I mean,” I said softly, trying to reroute him.
He looked up. “Things have been kind of stressful lately.”
Sure, but was this the time and place to rehash that? “I was just trying to let you know that I’ve been looking forward to this,” I said.
“Me, too,” he mumbled, or at least I think that’s what he said; his mouth was blessedly on my skin again. I didn’t respond, because I don’t know what sound would’ve escaped if I’d tried.
Then he said, “Like this?”
Had it really been so long that he’d forgotten what did the trick? I was about to say yes when something in the living room came crashing down. Many things, I should say; rather than the three vases I’d been worried about earlier, it sounded like someone had just thrown a basket of toys across the room.
I froze and held my breath, praying that the silence that followed the crash would last. Alas—Charlotte had already started howling like a hound on a hunt.
Still, she wasn’t calling for me, or for Shiloh. And if whatever had happened was really serious, Isa would have been pounding on our door. Which meant we could go back to what we’d been doing.
But Shiloh, who had just sat up, sighed wearily.
“They’re fine!” I said as he rose from the bed. My desire was very quickly being replaced by desperation. I wanted—no, I needed—to know that he still wanted me, that we still wanted each other, that the rest of the world, including our daughters, could cease to exist for just two stinking minutes. Because I was more than willing to have a quickie if that’s what it took to break the seal. “No one’s hollering for us.”
“I’m not going out there,” he said, which was when I realized he’d actually been heading for the dresser, not the door. He pulled his shirt back over his head and sat on the end of the bed.
I felt as crushed as though he’d just pointed out the dimples on my thighs. “I don’t understand,” I said to his back.
He didn’t turn around. “It’s just distracting, with the girls being right there and wide awake.”
I could remember when he and I had made love on the floor in the middle of the twins’ nursery while they babbled beside us in a crib. And what about the time we’d sneaked off to the bathroom for a spirited make-out session in the middle of their tenth birthday party? Distractions were no match for our passion.
Or so I’d thought.
He glanced over at me quickly and said, “We can try again tonight when they’re sleeping.”
“I don’t want to get my hopes up,” I said, but the humor I’d been shooting for landed with a thud between us.
“Libby.”
As I pulled the sheet up to my neck, I felt as vulnerable as if I’d just had my mammogram broadcast on network television. “Since you’re dressed, would you please go see what happened out there?” I said in a low voice.
His expression told me he wanted to say something but couldn’t manage to dislodge the words.
Good, I thought. Because I was tired of excuses and explanations when the facts were all there in front of me. My husband had lost interest in me. I had lost sight of the woman I used to be.
There was no way those two things weren’t related.
FOURTEEN
“Libby! Libby, wait!”
I’d just reached the beach when Shiloh came running out of the guesthouse after me. Though he’d said he wasn’t going to check on Charlotte, my sullen silence must have changed his mind because he excused himself moments later. I’d quickly gotten dressed, and after overhearing that Charlotte had been howling because she’d stepped on one of the board-game pieces that had tumbled out of a cupboard, I slipped out the side door.
“You’re upset,” he said when he reached me.
The sun had reemerged, and the pale sand was already hot beneath my bare feet. “I’m fine,” I told him, shifting from one foot to the other. “I just wanted to call Paul before we met Milagros and Hector for drinks.”
“You’ll talk to your brother but not to me?” he said, frowning.
“I promised him I’d let him know we got here safely,” I said, but it sounded lame. I sighed and tried again. “Listen, I just need to cool off, okay? I don’t think there’s even anything to talk about. We tried to sleep together, but the girls were too distracting. End of story.” I shrugged.
Shiloh was staring at me, but I couldn’t tell if he was angry, upset, or grappling with some other emotion I wasn’t picking up on. “Given how touch and go things have been with Charlotte’s health, I was a little surprised you didn’t want to stop and find out what had happened,” he finally said.
For once, that hadn’t occurred to me. “Call it mother’s intuition, but I had a feeling she was okay. Her blood sugar doesn’t usually make her scream like she’s just seen a little green man.”
He lifted a hand to his forehead to shade his eyes from the sun. “Okay, but I wish you wouldn’t read into what happened. It didn’t mean anything.”
Right, because I’d never heard that one before.
“We can try again tonight,” he added.
“How do you know I’m reading into anything? And if it’s all the same to you, I don’t want to make a plan for tonight, or any other night.” This was starting to feel like a fight, so I tried to soften my tone. “You already told me you felt pressured. I don’t want to add to that.”
“Hey,” he said, frowning. “That’s not what I meant.”
Was there another meaning for pressured that I was unaware of? “Listen, I know this has a lot to do with me.” Possibly everything to do with me, not that I said that. “I’ve been kind of off lately. I’m trying to get my head on straight instead, so we can all move forward.” I sighed, thinking about how I’d erupted in the car earlier. The last thing I wanted was for that to happen again. “Do you mind holding down the fort for just a few?”
His shoulders lifted, then sank as he sighed. “Sure.”
“Thank you.” Even though I knew it would look as disingenuous as it felt, I smiled anyway because it was better than bursting into tears. We’d spent more than a decade side by side, raising our daughters and building a life. Why did it feel like there was a chasm between us that was growing wider when it should have been closing? “I love you,” I added.
“I love you, too,” he said.
I could feel him watching me walk to the ocean and down the beach, but I didn’t turn around. Instead, I pulled my phone out of the pocket of my shorts and hit Paul’s number. I expected it to go to voicemail, but he picked up right away. “You
rang?”
“I know you’re probably in the middle of something—”
“While you may not be vying for Mary Kay marketer of the year, you might want to work on your sales pitch.”
The laugh I attempted got stuck in my throat. I swallowed hard and said, “Do you have a minute?”
“For you, dear sis, I have all the minutes. How’s Vieques?”
“Great,” I said, but I had to take a second before continuing. “So far we haven’t seen as much hurricane damage as we did in San Juan. And it’s really good to see Milagros.”
“So why do you sound like you’re about to go in for a root canal without anesthesia?”
I sighed even as I could feel the tears rising from deep within me. “You know I hate it when you poke around in my thoughts without permission.”
“I’m not the one who called to chat.”
“Your point. It’s just . . . when you said you and Charlie coasted, what did you mean?”
“Ruh-roh!”
“Paul,” I warned.
“Oh Libby, you know I can’t digest hard conversations if I don’t season them with a little humor. Now as to your question: I meant that neither of us did anything different for a long time, and then one day we looked up and realized we’d faded into the wallpaper.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, we became the background of each other’s lives, you know? We liked the way it looked, but it wasn’t particularly functional or important. Our therapist told us we should start dating each other, which sounded absolutely ridiculous to me at the time because—hello! You try being all romantic and spontaneous with two teenaged sons. But now I wonder if maybe that was better advice than I thought.”
“And yet you’re not asking Charlie on any dates, are you?”
“Too late for that now.”
“Is it, though?” I said, but at least I’d turned off my tears.
“Hey, lady, we’re supposed to be talking about you, not me. Are you worried about you and Shiloh coasting?”
I looked out at the ocean, wishing I could dive in, but the waves were too high and choppy for anything other than wading in the shallow surf. It took me a moment to respond. “A little bit, yeah,” I finally said.
“What’s going on? The last time I saw you guys, you seemed like your usual lovebird selves.”
Had we? When I thought back to our last dinner together, all I could picture was how Paul and Charlie had been interacting. In fact, I barely remembered anything about what Shiloh and I were doing that night.
“I seem to recall saying almost that exact thing to you.”
“I’ll allow it.”
“He . . .” I wrinkled my nose. “He just doesn’t seem that into me anymore.”
“Are we talking about carnally?” asked Paul in a gentle tone.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“I see. And have you mentioned this to him?”
“Sort of? He said that it didn’t mean anything, and that he felt pressured the second time we tried.”
“Ahh, ye olde sexual pressure. I bet you a Benjamin that it has nothing to do with you.”
“How can you say that?” I said, thinking about how weird I’d been feeling lately. “I was the one trying to—you know.”
“I do know, and let’s just say I have experience in this realm.”
“You and Charlie?” I said with surprise.
“At the end, yes.”
“That’s not reassuring, Paul.”
“You’re not us, and we’re not you. You can still fix this.”
“How? Every time I’ve tried, I’ve made things worse.”
I could hear him sigh through the phone. “I’m not sure, actually, but being in Puerto Rico is probably a good start.”
“I thought you knew everything,” I joked, though the truth was, I was a bit disappointed he didn’t have an answer at the ready.
“I am indeed a pantomath.”
“Panto-who?”
“Pantomath,” he repeated. “That’s someone who wants to know everything and mostly does. So, thank you for the compliment.”
“You’re incorrigible,” I said, looking out at the ocean. “All the same, I wish you were here.”
“I do, too.”
“You could come, you know,” I said suddenly. “I know you can afford it, and we’ll be here for another five days.”
“Honestly, getting out of this asphalt jungle sounds amazing, but the boys are doing an SAT test prep course for the next few weeks, and Charlie is going to Fire Island to stay with a friend.”
“A friend? That sounds less like coasting and more like riding a tsunami.”
“Moving right along! I wish we could join you guys, but the timing is rotten.”
“We are going to discuss this,” I warned, trying not to get upset. Here I’d been blaming Paul, but if Charlie was seeing other men . . . well, they were in even worse shape than I’d allowed myself to admit.
“And we will—later. For now, go put on your sexiest sarong and do your best to be adventurous. A little adrenaline is often just the thing to kick-start passion.”
“I think it works a little differently for women,” I said.
“As loath as I am to discuss this particular aspect of your health and well-being any further, do recall that we’re not targeting your libido.”
“Right,” I said. What I didn’t say was that I suspected Shiloh’s waning sex drive was probably a direct reaction to me—not a lack of adrenaline.
The clouds that had looked miles away were suddenly cloaking the sun again. I’d intended to walk a little longer, but with the sky looking ominous I turned to start back toward the guesthouse. “I’d better get going,” I told Paul. “Thanks for talking me down.”
“Anytime. Hang in there.”
“I will,” I said, because at least I felt better than I had before I called. “Love you.”
“Love you more and no take backs.” And then, because this had always been our game—to try to get the last word—he hung up.
When I returned to the guesthouse, Shiloh was helping the girls pick up the board games. He looked up and shot me a closed-lip smile, probably for the girls’ benefit, but I managed to smile back at him. “Almost ready for drinks?” I said cheerfully.
“Yes,” he said, looking at me quizzically. “You’re feeling better?”
“I am!” I wasn’t, actually, but the more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that the only thing to do was throw everything at our marriage and see what stuck. I would try adventure and adrenaline, per Paul’s advice, because it couldn’t hurt. But I was also going to double down on relocating the real me—the one I’d found thirteen years earlier on this very island. Because that was the woman Shiloh fell in love with.
It had begun to drizzle when we headed to Milagros’ for drinks, so instead of meeting on the patio, Hector ushered us into the house. I steeled myself for more of his signature achromatic style but was relieved to see that little about Milagros’ home had changed. There were the same paintings of fruit trees and the Puerto Rican countryside on her pale peach walls; here was a familiar basket full of orchids swinging over the kitchen sink. And there was Milagros, sprawled on one of the two weathered velour sofas she and I had spent many an afternoon gabbing on back when Shiloh was still just my vacation fling. It felt like coming home.
“Bienvenidos!” she said, rising. “Let me get you a drink!”
“Please, sit. We can do it,” I told her.
“You’re my guest, Libby. Let me. And don’t worry about my eyes!” she squawked, already reaching for the pitcher on the coffee table.
“Milagros, amor, let me,” said Hector, gazing adoringly at her.
I couldn’t help it; seeing Hector look at Milagros like she was the best thing that ever happened to him made me glance at Shiloh, who was on a chair across from the sofa, saying something to Isa. The last time I could remember him looking at me like that had been at Rupi’s wedd
ing the summer before. She and her husband, Trevor, had just kissed and were strutting down the aisle as newlyweds. It was one of those moments when everything up ahead seems to be brimming with promise, and Shiloh had kissed the back of my neck softly before meeting my eyes. “I love you even more than the day we married,” he’d whispered, sending goose bumps dancing up my arms. That night, we’d made love like a couple of teenagers, and I remembered thinking that although we were heading into the autumn of our lives, maybe we were in the midst of a sexual spring.
If only I’d known it was more like a short-lived heat wave that would be followed by an arctic blast.
“Okay, amor,” said Milagros, beaming at Hector. “As you like it. I’m going to go get something from the kitchen.”
“So how did you and Milagros meet?” I asked as Hector handed me a glass of something bright red and, from the smell of it, highly flammable.
His smile was dreamy. “I’ve known Milagros since I was a kid. But I moved away after high school, and then worked in Florida for a long time. A little over a year ago, I came back to Vieques with my wife—well, ex-wife now,” he said, somewhat sheepishly. “We’d only come to check on her parents, but we’d ended up buying a home and staying. But our marriage was already falling apart—running into Milagros again on the island only made that even clearer to me. To make a long story short, we separated and now here I am,” he said, gesturing to the house. He grinned at me and Shiloh. “How about you two?”
“We met in Vieques, actually,” said Shiloh.
“Technically, we met in San Juan,” I said. “He was flying the plane I took from there to here.”
I’d expected Shiloh to chime in with more details, but he just nodded. I was about to fill in for him when Milagros appeared, carrying two glasses teeming with electric-pink liquid.
“Mocktails!” she announced, shuffling across the tile toward Isa and Charlotte, both of whom looked bored but at least had the good sense not to say as much. “Sin rum.”
“That’s so kind of you, but they’ll have to pass,” I said. “Charlotte can’t have sugared drinks.” I glanced at Isa. “And in the interest of fairness, it’s best if Isa doesn’t, either.”
Don’t Make Me Turn This Life Around Page 9