Page 158 of The Havenport Collection

Josh

“ I think our biggest impediment right now is time,” I said.

“It’s worth making time. You’ve both have come a long way, but a few days together would be a great jumping off point for the next phase of your reconciliation,” Dr. Murphy said.

I nodded. I had initially been hesitant to trust Dr. Murphy, but she pushed us and held us accountable.

She was in her fifties and had a severe gray bob and a penchant for cardigans and chunky necklaces.

The incense she burned in her office and the requirement that we sit on large cushions on the floor during our sessions had made me more than skeptical.

But we had been making progress during our months together, and so I was willing to buy into her methods.

She clasped her hands. “You both want this; that’s clear. But there are still roadblocks.”

Maggie had been sitting primly on her oversized purple cushion with gold tassels.

“I agree,” she said, smoothing down the skirt of her sheath dress.

Maggie always looked perfect and polished.

So different from the student who’d kept a spare pencil in her messy bun and stayed up late studying and then wore her pajama pants to class.

Somewhere under the shiny hair and carefully manicured nails, my wife was hidden. But I was a patient man. It had taken me a while to find myself again. And I had total confidence in Maggie. No one rose to the occasion like she did.

“When was the last time you two went away without the kids?” Dr. Murphy asked.

Maggie and I looked at each other for several silent moments.

My brain spun, the last few years blurring together.

We’d taken the kids to Disney World a while ago.

And what about that trip to Washington, DC?

But that was with the kids too—we’d wanted to show them more American history.

Shit. I was drawing a blank. Had it really been so long since I had been alone with my wife?

“Four and a half years ago,” Maggie said calmly.

I raised an eyebrow at her. She remembered the exact length of time? That probably didn’t bode well for me.

She sighed. “Dean got married in Rhode Island. You and I drove down for the night. Stayed at an oceanfront Airbnb.”

Her tone was nonchalant, but the corner of her lip twitched.

Memories flooded my brain. We had sprung for a luxury oceanfront condo with a rooftop hot tub, and we’d we left my college roommate’s reception early to get back.

We’d been so eager to get naked and indulge in one another that we’d only stayed long enough to be polite, and once the cake was cut, we were gone.

I smiled at her, and she looked away, not meeting my eyes.

Huh. Clearly we were currently having similar memories.

The atmosphere shifted then. Maggie remembered that trip as well as I did.

And suddenly, things felt lighter and more playful.

Her body language relaxed, and she turned toward me on her cushion, her cheeks going pink.

I wanted to puff up my chest and let out a battle cry.

It had been so long since I’d made her blush; it felt like a major victory.

Dr. Murphy cleared her throat. “Setting aside time for yourselves, free from the pressures of work, kids, and home, is necessary for the health of any relationship.”

“I completely agree, Dr. Murphy,” I said.

“Suck up,” Maggie coughed into her hand. I loved the rare occasions when she got sassy. Normally she was so stoic.

I nudged her with my elbow, almost miraculously inspiring a laugh from her.

We had come so far. A few months ago, we sat stiffly on this floor, not looking at each other save for the occasional accusation. Now we were joking and touching? She hadn’t asked me to come home yet, but my heart soared. This felt like real progress.

“So you think we should schedule a weekend away?” Maggie asked.

“Absolutely. Even a night or two would give you a chance to spend some time together, talk about the past, talk about the future. Reconnect.”

“My schedule is impossible right now.”

“You can take a weekend off, Maggie,” I said. “You’re starting to sound like me…”

Her eyes narrowed. I had hit a nerve. “But it’s Christmas…” She raised her eyebrows at me.

I smirked. Her holiday season was always a busy one, but… “It’s technically November.”

“For one more day. And what about the kids?”

“Your mom or my dad would be happy to stay with them. You know that. Just a weekend.”

I could tell by the smile tugging at the corner of her lips that I was wearing her down. “Lucas has a ski cabin in New Hampshire. We could go up there for a couple of days.”

She crossed her arms. “The White Mountains? Too far.”

I huffed. I was trying so hard to make this work. Why couldn’t she meet me partway? “It’s two hours away, Maggie, hardly Costa Rica,” I snapped.

Anger flashed across her face. Shit. We were making such progress, and then I had to take things too far. Just when things were starting to improve. But I couldn’t take it back now.

Costa Rica was a sore subject between us.

We had dreamed of going there on our honeymoon.

So many nights, while studying and eating ice cream together in college, we would dream and make plans.

We watched documentaries and bought travel books, waiting for the day we could snorkel with sea turtles and hike through the rainforest.

But things didn’t go as planned. We got pregnant with Ava right after college graduation and had a courthouse wedding.

The honeymoon was put on hold because I was starting medical school and Maggie was working to support us through her pregnancy.

The years ticked by, and we never got around to taking that trip.

And we could have. We had good jobs, and we had parents who loved to babysit.

We could have made it work, but everything else felt too important.

Our jobs, our house, kids’ activities. We should have done it.

Made that dream into reality together. A wave of shame and sadness washed over me at the realization that we’d let that vision die out.

I took her hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

She pulled away, turning to hide the hurt that shone in her eyes.

“Do you want to explain?” Dr. Murphy asked.

“Costa Rica is sort of an inside thing with us.” Maggie shifted in her seat, and I watched her face fall. Her posture was rigid and she was picking at her nails. She briefly explained our nonexistent honeymoon to the therapist, who nodded and asked a few follow-up questions.

Her voice trailed off and she stared at her hands in her lap. My heart sank. There was so much hurt, so much resentment, so many unfulfilled promises between us.

Dr. Murphy, probably sensing the change in her tone too, asked, “Did it upset you, Maggie, when Josh said that just now?”

“No,” she said, nervously smoothing her skirt. She sat up straight, her posture perfect. “It just sent me down memory lane a bit. But I’m not sad. And he’s right. It’s just New Hampshire for a weekend.”

“So you’ll do it?” I asked, hope filling me.

She immediately typed something into her phone. “I’m checking a few things to see what I can maneuver. But yes. I’ll do it.” She looked up and smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

This was it—this was the core hurt that had sent us down this path. And I didn’t know how to fix it. I had been such a selfish bastard. Because Ava hadn’t ruined Maggie’s chances at medical school. I had.

Maggie deferred her admission to have Ava, planning to return the next year.

But it didn’t happen. When Ava was born premature at thirty-one weeks, Maggie threw herself into caring for her, even sleeping in the NICU with her until she was sent home.

She had focused everything she had on Ava and her health.

After a year, Ava was healthy and happy, but Maggie didn’t go back to school. Instead, she took over all the childcare and housework while I tried to keep my head above water. Medical school was so much more than I had anticipated.

And selfishly, I hadn’t wanted her to go to med school. I needed her to take care of my child and make sure I had clean clothes to wear and meals available between classes and study sessions. I became so obsessed with success that I lost sight of the most important person in my life.

Once things calmed down, we decided that Maggie would pursue a two-year nurse practitioner program at Boston College instead.

It was rigorous, but shorter than an MD, and NPs were in high demand.

She juggled her program with Ava, her pregnancy with Jack, and everything else with ease, even graduating first in her class.

She got a job immediately and became the breadwinner while I was just starting my residency.

In typical Maggie fashion, she did everything and did it better than 99 percent of people on the planet, me included.

I convinced myself she was happy. That she loved her job.

And I deluded myself into thinking everything was fine.

But I knew better now. There was something inside her that wanted more. That craved more, even as her career developed and she became a partner in the clinic. She was still one of the smartest and most capable women I had ever met. And, like a total fucking chump, I had taken her for granted.

“Maggie,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” she snapped. “We’ve spent months in therapy having this conversation. I don’t want to go through it again.”

She stood up and glared at me. “I forgive you for med school, Josh. We made that decision together.”

“Maggie. Please have a seat. Let’s let Josh express what he needs to, and then you can respond.”

She huffed and sat down again, but only after she’d pushed her purple cushion farther away from me.

I took a deep breath. “I’ve spent the last six months doing some intense work on myself.

Therapy, meditation, soul searching. Losing you and the kids was rock bottom for me, and I’m climbing my way out.

Every single day I wake up wanting to be better for you and our family.

And I’m trying. But you need to be honest with me.

Let out the anger, the resentment, and the fear. I deserve it.”

“I see how hard you’re trying. And I appreciate it.” Her voice cracked like she was on the verge of tears. Then she gracefully dabbed her eyes with a tissue, careful not to smudge her tastefully applied makeup.

I gave her a moment to compose herself, hoping this would finally be the moment she opened up, but my heart sank at her next words.

“Let’s schedule this weekend away, shall we?” she suggested, her face now a mask of indifference.