“It was truly terrible, although that could have been because we used the cup from the bathroom. I seem to remember that was your idea.”
“I think it was.” She couldn’t imagine doing it now, but back then she’d felt as if she was living her greatest adventure. It had been a perfect trip, and the reason it had been perfect was because she’d been with Pete. Something uncurled inside her.
“Do you remember when the twins were young, and your mother used to babysit so we could go out for dinner?” He was reminding her of those early days when time together had been rare and precious.
“Of course I remember.”
“You said you loved it because it gave you an excuse to dress up and feel like something other than a mother.”
That was true. She’d treasured those moments when she and Pete had stolen time together.
“We made a rule that we couldn’t talk about the kids. The evening had to be about us. We were the priority. The first time we did it we sat in silence for the first half hour because neither of us could think of a single thing to say that didn’t involve the children.”
“I know. And at the beginning of our relationship we couldn’t stop talking. You had opinions on everything, and I loved hearing them.” He gave a soft laugh. “Once the twins arrived it took us a while to remember how to communicate about something that wasn’t sleeping, feeding or keeping them alive.”
“We were so tired.”
“Don’t remind me.”
But somehow they’d weathered those sleepless nights and the relentless demands of small children. They’d taken it in turns to get up early at weekends, each allowing the other a lie-in. They’d shared. They’d figured it out together.
And they should be figuring out this next step together, too.
We were the priority.
“Pete—”
“I know things are changing.” His voice was quiet. “Life, relationships—they constantly evolve. But I still remember that first time I saw you in the library. I think about that first night we spent together when you told me in detail what you would have changed about the book you were reading. About all the plans you had for the future and I was so desperate to share that future with you. We built our little family together, and we will always be a family even if we’re not all living under the same roof. That’s enough for me, but it seems it’s no longer enough for you. I want to help, but I don’t know how.”
There was a pressure in her throat. “Pete—”
“I have to go, Anna. Lola is running in circles waiting to be let into the garden and then I have to cook lunch.”
“Wait—” She felt something close to panic. “Call me afterward. I love you.”
There was a pause. “This is your time with your friends. Enjoy your lunch and your book chat, Anna. We can talk when you’re home.”
She waited, expectant, but then realized that he’d ended the call. Pete had ended the call without saying those words back to her. When had he ever not said them back?
She paced to the window, trying to calm herself by looking at the snow that coated the world outside, but all she could think of was Pete.
Pete was hurting, which was bad. Worse was the fact that she was the one who had hurt him.
Her mind ran back over the conversations they’d had recently. The things she’d said. She’d thought only of herself, and how she felt about the twins leaving. The sense of impending loss had enveloped her like a fog obscuring her future.
Because she trusted him implicitly, because they’d been close for so long, had she committed that ultimate and clichéd sin of taking him for granted? Unintentionally, maybe, but yes, she had.
We were the priority.
They should be the priority again. Pete was right that instead of thinking about what they were losing, she should think about what they were gaining. She should think about all the things they would be able to do as a couple. Guilt shot through her along with a clarity that had been missing until now. He was right that lately she’d prioritized the kids over their relationship, even when the twins’ needs had been less important. It had been the easy thing to do. And now she wished that she’d said yes to his suggestion of a weekend away, if only because it would have shown him how much he meant to her.
She took a slow breath and tried to calm herself.
They weathered everything together. There was nothing they couldn’t handle. They’d sort this out.
Everything would be fine.
But why hadn’t he said I love you, too?
Had he forgotten? No, Pete never forgot.
She grabbed her phone and called him, but he didn’t pick up and her call went to voice mail.
She left a message. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I love you. Call me back when you get this.”
She sat there, holding her phone until there was a tap on the door and she realized that it was Erica, and that it was time for lunch. For a wild moment she considered saying that she couldn’t join them, but she knew that was ridiculous.
Pete was cooking lunch, too, which was why he hadn’t answered his phone. Or maybe he’d left his phone in a different room and forgotten about it, as he sometimes did.
He’d call her later, she reasoned, and when he did she’d apologize and find a way to make it up to him.
TWENTY
Hattie
Hattie stared at the dress in the mirror. It was black, well-cut and—safe? She’d bought it when she was in college and had found it useful in all kinds of situations. But was it right for her evening with Noah?
Just dinner, he’d said. As if it was nothing. And maybe to him it was nothing. But to her? She didn’t know exactly what it was, but it certainly wasn’t nothing.
She’d pushed it to the back of her mind while she was dealing with the fallout of Stephanie’s and Chef Tucker’s departures, but now she needed to deal with it.
Was it a date? If it was a date she should be dressing up. But if she dressed up and he was thinking of it as a casual evening with a friend, then she’d be wearing the wrong thing. And she had no idea what the right thing was. She lived in her “uniform” of a short skirt worn over thick tights, and her favorite pair of boots. She hoped she looked businesslike, but also friendly and approachable. On Christmas Day the year before, she’d added a sparkly sweater, but that was as close as she got to dressing up.
She rifled through her clothes, rejecting everything she touched. This was ridiculous. There had to be something she could wear.