Home > My Husband's Secret(9)

My Husband's Secret(9)
Author: Kiersten Modglin

Remember me how I am now, I pleaded internally, neither of us oblivious to the fact that my stomach would soon start to swell with the piece of us we’d managed to create. His hand cupped the place where my bump would grow as he lowered himself between my legs.

“Absolutely beautiful,” he whispered, and I silently prayed he would always believe that was true.

 

 

When we finished, we lay together, both breathing heavily, soaked in cool sweat and staring up at the dingy ceiling of my bedroom. He twisted a finger through a wisp of my hair, and I thought of how much I loved these moments.

Why did he ever have to leave? Why couldn’t he stay with me all the time? I knew my apartment was a farther drive for him to work than he’d like, but I’d said over and over that I’d move in with him if he wanted me to. He thought we were moving too fast, but this baby had sped things up, no matter the original plan. The ring he chose, the one I kept in my top dresser drawer had sped things up. Why was he still keeping one foot on the brakes? I believed it had to be a commitment issue, which explained why he was nearing forty-five and still single.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. I turned my head to look at him.

“Nothing, really,” I lied.

“You’re lying.” He called me on it.

My smile was small. “Just thinking about being with you. I wish it could be like this all the time.”

His gaze became distant, like it so often did. He looked back up toward the ceiling. “I know. I do, too.” His jaw was tight as he said it. I could’ve easily called him out on his lie, too.

“Am I doing something to scare you off?”

He propped up on one elbow and stared at me like I was being ridiculous. “Of course not, Alaina. Why would you ask me that?”

“Every time I bring up moving in together, you shut down.”

“I’ve told you, your apartment is too far from my work.”

I placed a hand on his chest. “And I’ve told you, I can do my job from anywhere. Let me move in with you. Let’s get a place together somewhere different. Just give me a big window somewhere in the house, and I’ll be satisfied. I just want you…”

He rubbed a hand over his scalp. “It’s just not good timing right now. Work is too busy for me to think about moving, and my house is a total bachelor pad.”

“I don’t mind—”

“I said no, Alaina, okay?” His tone was harsh, and I knew the conversation was nearing its end. This was our stopping point. Our brick wall. I had no idea why I pushed him. No idea why I kept pushing him when it never ended anywhere different. This was where we always ended up. “I gave you a ring, didn’t I? I said I would marry you. I will take care of you. Is that not enough?”

“Do you love me?” I asked, and sudden, betraying tears pooled in my eyes.

His jaw dropped, his eyes narrowing at me. “Of course I love you, Alaina. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

There was a truth in his tone, real and palpable, and I knew he meant it. Still, it troubled me that he refused to take the next obvious step. “When, then? When will you move in with me? After we’re married?”

“We won’t wait that long,” he promised, obviously thinking that would make me feel better.

“That long? How long are you planning to wait to marry me? The baby will be here in just a few short months.”

“Seven months,” he said quickly. “We still have seven months.”

“They’ll fly by.”

“Enough, Alaina. This is all…it’s a lot, okay? It’s a lot, and it’s overwhelming—”

I pushed up from the bed, grabbing my dress and tossing it over my head. “You’re overwhelmed? Well, I’m incredibly sorry to have caused you any stress, Lucas. I can’t imagine how that feels because I just live my life here in Happyville without a care in the world.”

He stood up, pulling on his pants from the floor. His shoulders were tense, and I knew he was mad. I did that. Despite my usual efforts to keep him happy—I knew how much his work stressed him out—the baby had put a timer on what we had. A countdown. No longer could we continue to take a leisurely stroll through our relationship; I couldn’t keep letting him stop in for an hour or two and then disappear from my life for days or weeks on end. I knew his life was busy—I wasn’t needy and would never pretend to be—but I did need this. If he was going to be in this child’s life, I needed him to step up before it arrived.

“I know that’s not true, okay? I know you’re just as stressed as I am, but you have to give me time. You know how I work. I push people away and I need my space, I just—”

“Take your space,” I said, handing him his shirt with force. “Take all the space you need. But when you come back, I need you to know what you want from me. If I’m just a booty call you happened to knock up—”

“You know that’s not it!” He reached for me, but I stepped back, rage boiling in my belly as I’d never felt it before.

“I know you’ve told me it’s not, but I know how you’re making me feel right now, too. We don’t have long. I will do this on my own if I have to, but what I won’t do, is do it with you having one foot out the door. You’re either in our lives or you’re out, Lucas. You have to decide, and you have to decide quickly. I can’t take much more of this.”

He pulled his shirt over his head, his expression stony. “You know that I love you.”

“But do you love us?” I gestured toward my belly. “Do you love me enough to want all that comes with this?”

“I gave you a ring. I’m not sure what else you want from me.” His dark brows drew down in frustration.

“I want it all, Lucas. And anything less than that couldn’t possibly be enough.” With that, I walked past him, fighting back tears as I pulled open the door. “You should go. I have a project due, and I need to get back to work.”

I wanted him to fight, to argue, to say there was no way he would leave like this and pull me into his arms to let me know I was all he’d ever want or need.

Instead, he sighed, then left without a word or second glance.

 

 

Chapter Ten

 

 

Naomi

 

 

When he arrived home, I knew it was going to be a rough afternoon. Already, he was groaning and angry, his movements tense and tight as he moved through the house. The birthday cake Becca helped me make was cooling on the counter as I ran the needle and thread through her pink sweater, attaching the tutu to its hem.

He came into the room before I turned around, hoping to alleviate his bad mood with a smile and chocolate. I ignored his anger.

“Welcome home.” I held up the wings in a sort-of salute. “You’ll never guess what your daughter wants to be for Halloween this year.”

He laughed, but it was dismissive, and I wasn’t sure if he was really listening to me. He headed to the counter and grabbed a glass, filling it with water and took a drink. “Nice,” he said, not really responding to what I’d said.

I refused to ask how his day was, even though it felt like I should. I wouldn’t do it. I didn’t want to know. It was my birthday, and he was supposed to drop it at the door and celebrate with us. That was his promise this morning.

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