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“I knew you had a weakness.” Kate cackles, holding his arms to the ground above his head with the weight of her knees.
This does nothing because all Noah does is lift her entire tiny body off the ground and toss her off him. But me, the one straddling his hips, he leaves me there. Our eyes lock and he waits to see what I’m going to do.
“Attack!” Kate screams. “Retrieve!”
Slowly, my hand moves to the front of Noah’s jeans. He shakes his head. “Get up.”
I don’t and dip my hand inside his jeans to fish out his cell phone. I feel all around. Do you notice his breathing? It’s labored and not just from wrestling around on the ground with his wife and her friend. It’s because I have my damn hand down his pants. I basically cup his dick and balls only to have him start laughing and give up, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Find what you’re looking for?”
It takes everything in me not to lay one on him in front of everyone. But I’m laughing too hard. I hear Jason from behind me ask Charlee, “Is it wrong I’m getting a chub from this?”
She pushes him. “You’re disgusting.”
Okay, so there I am, still straddling him and here’s the kicker. His cell phone isn’t in his pants. Nope. Only semihard dick looking for some attention.
Winking, Noah’s grin widens. “Maybe if you use your mouth, you’ll find it.”
Breathing heavy, I look behind me and it’s on the ground. It must have fallen out of his jeans while we were wrestling him.
Jason grabs it and takes off running, screaming, “Goal!”
Noah pushes me off him, notices I land on my ass rather harshly, and stops. “Sorry,” he whispers in a rush, kisses me, and then takes off after Jason. Poor Jason only makes it to the fence before Noah tackles him to the ground to get his phone back.
“The fact that he won’t let anyone see it tells me it’s amazing,” Kate tells me, holding her side and pouring herself another glass of wine. Helping me up off the ground, she hands me the bottle. “C’mon, porn star. It’s time for cupcakes. I’ll let you lick the candles.”
I laugh. She’s too much.
* * *
My eyes stayon Noah most of the evening. The twinkle lights strung between trees burst to life, and I see him under the lights, he reminds me of the boy I fell in love with long before I admitted it to him. But it’s also then that I realize there’s no trace of the boy inside my husband anymore. Loss, devastation, life… it’s sucked that out of him, and now he’s a shell of the man he used to be.
I’m curious what changed from tackling him to the ground over his cell phone, to now. And every so often, his eyes stray to mine but never really make the contact I so desperately want. When I look at him standing next to Jason, there’s an emptiness in his gaze, as if he’s struggling with something, and I know what it is. I see it when he looks at our kids, or any little blonde-haired girl who would have been the same age as Mara.
He and Jason are talking in the distance, and I notice with every word, Noah’s body tenses. It’s then, while I watch them, Noah’s eyes are on a little girl who would have been the same age as Mara, that I realize I can’t take that pain away from him just like he can’t take it away for me. As much as I want him to, he can’t.
He’s incapable of it.
So many times I want to approach him at the party, wrap my arms around his waist like I used to, and sink into his warm body. Will he push me away? Probably not. But will he enjoy the contact? My gut tells me he will. After all, last night everything seemed good. But where are we now?
The party, for the most part, isn’t bad. The kids have a great time. On the way home that night is when the first of what hadn’t been said is revealed. I’m not sure why, but over time, arguments between us have become more heated, and the words ignite both of us.
The kids are fast asleep, and there we are, brushing our teeth and getting ready for bed. Not touching, both looking at the sink. The same sink I got my ass stuck in last night during round two.
I can tell Noah is conflicted. It’s in the way he stares blankly at his reflection in the mirror, his movements uncertain. He’s lost, lost in what I don’t know, because he never says what he’s thinking.
I draw in an unsteady breath, pushing forward to break through the cycle. “Did I do something to make you mad?”
His body tenses immediately. His gaze falters for the briefest moment. “No.”
“Well, something is wrong, and you’re avoiding talking about it because it’s easier than having this conversation.”
His body turns to stone, unmoving, unprepared. His jaw tightens. He doesn’t like being pushed into a conversation he doesn’t want to have.
“What is it?” I snap.
There’s a furrow to his brow when he asks, “Did you tell Kate about Mara?”
The question catches me off guard. My silence causes him to look up and watch my reaction in the mirror. “Yes.”