Her hand shook as she closed the door behind her and tugged off her boots. She’d been with Pete for more than half her life. He was her best friend and it was ridiculous to feel nervous, but still, she felt nervous as she held her phone and braced herself for the call.
In all the years they’d spent together, they’d never hit a bump as big as this one. Right now this felt like the most important conversation she was ever going to have. What if she said the wrong thing? And it shocked her that she could know someone as well as she knew Pete, and love someone as well as she loved Pete and yet still get it wrong. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and called him.
“Hi there.”
“Hi. Sorry I haven’t been in touch before. It’s been a little pressured here. Hold on a moment. Lola has found one of Meg’s shoes and she’s chewing on it. Lola! Drop it. I said—” There was a pause and the sound of Lola barking happily. “Damn. I thought nothing could go wrong in the five minutes it took me to call you. Where did she find that? I was careful. Sorry.”
Anna wanted to ask which shoes, but then she decided she didn’t care. Meg’s shoes were Meg’s problem. She didn’t want to talk about Meg.
“If Meg left the shoes where Lola can grab them, then that’s on her.”
“It wouldn’t have happened on your watch.”
“Of course it would.”
“We both know it wouldn’t, Anna. You’re great at all this. You’re the perfect mother.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed. She wasn’t a perfect anything. “I’ve tried calling you a few times.”
“I know, and I’m sorry it has taken me so long to call you back. You make running the household seem simple, but I’m not you. Things take me a while. And that’s embarrassing to admit because how hard is it to wash a load of laundry without flooding the kitchen?”
“You flooded the kitchen?”
“Don’t worry, we managed to dry it out, but when you messaged me there was no way I was taking your call and admitting to my incompetence.”
That was why he hadn’t responded? “But I messaged you yesterday, too.”
“Yes, and I couldn’t answer because I’d left my phone in the house.”
“If your phone was in the house, where were you?”
“Not in the house.” He sighed. “Locked out of the house.”
“Locked—”
“Yes, locked. I closed the front door and forgot to pick up the keys. And I know you never do that because you’re organized and great at doing nine things at once, but I’m a one-task-at-a-time kind of guy, and I was trying to get Lola out for her walk, and the phone rang as I was leaving and I was distracted—do you know what? It doesn’t matter. But it meant that it was too late to call you by the time I was reunited with my phone.”
“Sharon and Mike next door have our key.”
“I remembered that half an hour after I broke in through the downstairs window.”
She winced. “You seem to have had an eventful time while I’ve been away.”
“Not my best week. And poor Daniel is having girl trouble, so I’ve been trying to be supportive.”
“Girl trouble?” Even though she was determined to focus on Pete, she couldn’t help feeling a flicker of anxiety for her youngest child. “Did he talk about it?”
“A bit. Not much. But I’ve got it covered. Don’t worry about it.”
“What did you do?”
“We played computer games. He destroyed me, naturally, something that Meg won’t let me forget in a hurry.”
She imagined them, side by side on the sofa, and the tight knot inside her slowly unraveled. Pete had shown Daniel that whatever happened he was right beside him. In his corner, always.
A lump settled in her throat. Sometimes she felt as if the kids were her responsibility, but that wasn’t true, was it? Right from the moment they were born Pete had been looking out for them, too. And he was still looking out for them.
“Why didn’t you tell me all this when we spoke?”
“About Daniel? Because I didn’t need to. I knew you’d worry and I didn’t want you to worry. I handled it. As for the rest of it, I’m proud and stubborn and I like to think I’m a modern man. But apparently, there are certain household tasks which defeat me, which is humiliating to admit. Somehow we’ve fallen into traditional roles. I take out the trash, sort out winter tires for the car and fix windows that won’t open and clear the snow. You do everything else.”
Anna felt love seep through her, filling every corner of her. “I’m glad you do those things, because I hate doing them. And who cares if we’re ridiculously traditional when it comes to the domestic stuff? It works for us. We’re happy with the arrangement. That’s all that matters.” Her eyes filled. “And you’re forgetting to mention all the years you’ve trekked to the office even when the job has been horrible. You did whatever it took to support us, so that I could have my dream and stay at home with the kids.” She thought about all the times he’d been there for her. All the times his calm, unflappable nature had made a bad situation better. He was strong, and kind, and good. And he was hers. “Oh, Pete—” The relief was so intense she felt shaky. “I’m so pleased.”
“You’re pleased I’m incompetent?”
“You’re not incompetent. I’m pleased that’s the reason you didn’t call.”
“What other reason would there be?”
“I upset you. Because all I’ve thought about lately is the kids leaving.”
“I was upset, but that was my problem. Seeing you distressed about something I can’t help with makes me feel helpless. Inadequate.”
She was stunned. “Inadequate? How?”
“Because this is our family. It’s my job to make sure everything is stable and everyone is happy. If one of the kids has an issue, I’m going to do what I can to fix it or help them fix it themselves. Same for you. But I couldn’t see a way to help you with this.”
Things suddenly started to make more sense. “Is that why you suggested another baby?”
“Desperate measures. I didn’t know what to do, Anna. I wanted there to be a simple solution. I wanted us to be enough.”
It was a struggle to hold back the emotion. “We are enough. More than enough.”
“Remember that conversation we had in the kitchen when we were talking about the Christmas tree? You said you didn’t regret having the kids. You said they were the best thing that ever happened to you and I agreed.”
“Yes.” She wondered where he was going with this.
“I was wrong.” He paused. “The kids aren’t the best thing that ever happened to me, Anna. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me because without you there would be no kids. There would be no cozy, welcoming home. There would be no laughter and warmth. It’s you, Anna. For me, it’s always been you. You’re everything.”
You’re everything.