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My eyes are on her in that picture, with a smile on my face and pride in my reflection.
I tear my gaze away and keep walking, feeling the weight of everything press down on my shoulders. I’m exhausted and likethe childish fool I am, I wish I could just go to sleep and this would all be a dream. A huff of sarcasm accompanies my gentle footsteps up the stairs.
I want to go back to when we first got married. Before we both got caught up in work and started to live separate lives. Before I fucked up.
If only we could start over and go back to that day.
As I pass the open office door, I hear the clacking of the computer keyboard. So many nights I’ve come home to this, so many mornings I’ve woken up to it. She’s always in her office, which is a shame. There’s hardly any light, or anything at all in the room. File cabinets, papers, a shredder and a desk. There’s not a hint of the woman Kat is in this room.
I guess it’s the same as the living room, but at least a classic elegance is present there. It’s nothing but cold in here. If a to-do list could be made into décor, that’s what this cramped room resembles.
“Hey, babe,” I say softly and Kat ignores me. I clear my throat and speak louder. “I’m home,” I tell her and again, I get nothing from Kat, just the steady clicks. There’s an empty wineglass and two bottles on the floor by her feet.
Maybe she’s a little drunk, maybe she has her earplugs in too, but still, she’d hear me. Was it a long shot that she’d kindly accept me coming home?Yes.It’s not too much to ask for an acknowledgment, though. Even if she tells me to fuck off. I’d take it.
My teeth grind together as I grip the handle of the door harder. She deserves better. I know she does. This is exactly I deserve, but I don’t want it. I won’t go down without fighting for what I want.
The standing floor lamp in the corner of her office is on, but it’s not enough to brighten the room. Even the glow of the computer screen is visible.
“Do you want to talk?” I ask her and her only response is that her fingers stop moving across the keys.
She doesn’t turn to face me or give any sign that I’ve spoken to her. She heard it, though, and her gaze drops to the keyboard for a second too long not to give that away.
“I don’t want to fight, Kat,” I tell her and force every bit of emotion I’m feeling into my words. “I don’t want this between us.”
She turns slowly in her seat, a baggy T-shirt covering her slim body and ending at her upper thighs. Her exposed skin is pale and the dark room makes her look that much paler. Her viridian eyes give her away the most, though. Nothing but sadness stares back at me.
My body is pulled to her, and I can’t help it. I can’t stand that look in her eyes. Before I can tell her I love her and I’m sorry, before I can come up with some lame excuse, she cuts me off.
“I wanted to last night,” she says and then crosses her arms. She looks uncomfortable and unnatural. Like she’s doing what she thinks she should be doing, not what she wants. “When you texted me and then I texted you back. I was ready to talk then.”
“I’m here now,” I offer and walk closer to her, the floorboards creaking gently. There’s a set of chairs in the corner of the room from our first apartment and I almost drag one over, but I’m too afraid to break eye contact with her. It’s progress. I’ll be damned if I stop progress for a place to sit.
At least she’s looking at me, talking to me, receptive to what I have to say.
“Ask me whatever you want.” My voice is calm but deep down I’m screaming. Because I know I’ll answer her. I’ll tell her everything just to take that pain away, even if it’s only temporary, even if it fucks her too.
Her doe eyes widen slightly and she cowers back, swallowing before answering me. “Aren’t you tired?” she says softly and her eyes flicker to the door and then to the floor.
She doesn’t want to know the truth.
“Yeah, I’m exhausted. But I’m not going to bed until you do.” I lick my lips and clear my throat, hoping she’ll give in to me. For nearly the past year when I’m home, I’ve tried to stay up with her or brush off the fact that I’d pass out while she was still working and vice versa. Not tonight, not from this point forward. The advice my father gave me on our wedding night was to go to bed together. I should have listened. I’ll make it better, I can at least fix that.
“I can stay up for you,” I say, offering her the suggestion. It’s not what she wants, but it’s something.
“Well, this has to get done, and it’s going to take hours.”
“I can wait,” I tell her but the second the words slip out she turns back to the computer and says, “Don’t.”
With her back to me and her fingers already flying across the keys again, I’ve never felt more alone and crestfallen.
“I’ll go unpack and relax on the bed then,” I say as I grip the doorframe to stay upright and keep myself from ripping her out of that chair and bringing her to bed.
“Here?” Shock coats the single word.
It takes me a moment to realize why the hell she’s asking me that and when I do, it’s like a bullet to the chest.
A mix of emotions swell in my gut and heat my blood. Anger is there, but the dejectedness is what cuts me the most.