He sighed and put down his spoon, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Why? Why are you suddenly so interested in what happens at work? You don't usually care to ask. What's going on Roxy?”
I played nervously with the stem of my wine glass, feeling my face burning with embarrassment. “I know. I...” I shook my head and took another sip of wine to steady myself. “Lucas, I am interested, I do want to know... I should know, I mean you have a whole other life I'm not a part of. I – I want to be,” I sighed, looking up at him. “I want to be there for you. Even when it's horrible... I mean, especially when it is. You should have someone to talk about this stuff with.”
He scowled and leaned back in his chair, regarding me coolly. I wasn't used to him looking at me this way, even when he was angry, he had always looked at me softly, his eyes always loving, warm. Not now. “It's been a bloody long time since I have been able to do that Rox. Why start now?”
I swallowed thickly, determined not to cry. Be strong, show him you're strong, don't fucking cry! “I know,” I conceded. “It's going to change, I promise, it's all going to change. I want us to be how we used to be. I want to hear what's happening... what you're feeling.” I pushed back my chair and walked around the table to where he sat. Hesitating only for a second, I moved so that I was sitting in his lap, my fingers twirling through the back of his hair, just like old times. “I'm so sorry Lucas, I'm sorry for shutting you out. I'm sorry I keep fucking it all up for us.”
He sucked in a breath and I was shocked to see an expression of absolute fury cloud over his features. With a grunt, he heaved me from his lap and stood, striding across the kitchen, his huge fists clenched tightly. “Can you even hear yourself Rox? Can't you see what a fucking mess this has all become, this whole baby situation? Can't you see what it's doing to you?”
One hand flew to my mouth as the other grasped the table for support. So we were here already, at the crux of it all. I wasn't ready, I couldn't do it. I gave a start as Lucas slammed his bear like fist down onto the counter. I had never in all our years together seen him like this.
“Lucas,” I moved a step towards him, my hand outstretched. “Darling, please, calm down. There's no need to be so angry. Please, sit down.”
He shook his head, looking at me as if I were raving mad, and for a second, I wondered whether I was. It did run in the family after all. “No need to be angry?” he growled. “Are you joking Roxy? Do you think you married a complete fool, is that it? You think you can put on a pretty dress and cook me dinner and get your way?” He leaned over the counter towards me. “Do you think I want you to hate yourself, blame yourself for the miscarriages? How the fuck do you think that makes me feel, to know that my wife, the woman I love is destroying herself physically and emotionally, over and over again, all for something that might never happen?” he shouted.
I blushed to the roots of my hair, horrified at how easily he had seen through my actions. “Lucas, of course I don't think you're a fool. I just wanted it to be like old times, you know? J–just have fun with you, show you that I'm still, well, me.” I balled my fists nervously at my sides, before rubbing one absently against the smooth wooden surface of the table in wide circles. “I just wanted to show you that I'm sorry,” I gulped, blinking back the bastard tears that wouldn't relent. “I know...” I continued, my voice strangled with emotion, “I know that I haven't been fair to you. To anyone. I know that. It's been hard. Talking about everything, living the same nightmare over and over again.” A sob broke free and I sank into the chair my husband had vacated, my hands covering my face. “I am so sorry. I know you're suffering too. I'm sorry it's not been smooth,” I choked, wiping my nose on my sleeve.
Lucas gave a sigh and watched me for a moment, his expression softening. He walked around the kitchen counter and came to crouch down in front of me. “Look at me Rox,” he whispered softly. Slowly, I lifted my mascara smudged eyes to meet his. I was relieved to see the warmth in his expression. “We can't keep putting ourselves through this, my love. I know, believe me, I do know what having a baby means to you. I wanted it too, so very much.” He stroked a strand of hair back from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “But this can't go on. It's killing you. And, honestly, it's killing me too. I won't keep doing this to us. I just won't Roxy. It will destroy us both.”
I shook my head frantically. “Lucas, please, don't say that.” I reached out and grabbed him tightly by the shoulders. “Please don't give up on our family, I promise, things will be better. I won't shut you out, we will face whatever happens together. Just please, don't give up on our baby,” I begged.
He shook his head, his eyes filled with pain. “No Roxy. No. I'm sorry but we're done. I won't go through that again.”
“No! You don't get to decide that. No!”
He made to stand up and I found myself moving before I even registered what was happening. I launched myself at him, kissing him roughly on the mouth, startling him so he fell back onto the tile. “Roxanne!” he gasped. “What the hell...” he managed to splutter, as I continued to kiss him desperately. My hands worked frantically at his belt, determined that I could make him change his mind. I had to make him change his mind.
Suddenly I felt myself grabbed hard around the arms and rolled ungracefully onto my back on the cold, hard kitchen floor. I barely noticed. I hitched up my skirt, moving to pull my underwear down, and felt him grasp me tightly by the wrist. He looked down at me with a mixture of sadness and anger. “I said no,” he growled, breathing hard.
He stood, leaving me shaking on the floor, half dressed and wild eyed. “I'm going to bed. I suggest you sleep in the spare room. We'll discuss our options another time when you're less...” he shook his head, turned and walked out of the room. He hadn't reached the bottom of the stairs before I crumpled into a ball and wept.
Chapter Seven
“Do you think he really means it then?” Isabel said as she dipped her third biscuit into her tea and brought the soggy tip to her lips, a habit that made my stomach turn. After giving her and Bonnie the cold shoulder for longer than I had ever managed before, I'd finally backed down. I was desperate for someone to talk to.
“It's been two weeks Issy. Two weeks of me begging him to reconsider and so far, he's not budged an inch. I don't know what I can do to make him change his mind,” I complained, leaning back in the squashy armchair in her living room. The seat was perfectly positioned so that I could see the corner of my own cul-de-sac through the bay windows, and I glanced in that direction now, wondering how long it would be until Lucas would come home. He'd been going to the pub after work most nights this past fortnight, or making excuses for why he had to stay late at the surgery. He was avoiding me, I knew he was, and I couldn't blame him.
For the first week after that frightful dinner, I had been relentless in my desperation. I'd refused to let the subject go for even a second. I'd been humiliated beyond words when a further two attempts to seduce him, both far less frenzied and in my opinion, infinitely more difficult to resist than the kitchen fiasco, had both gone rebuffed. I'd sobbed into my lacy black lingerie, drinking the champagne alone by candlelight, as he had gone out for a drink with his friend Ben from Uni. To talk about me, no doubt. I'd been furious, hurt, and utterly despairing, and several blazing rows had erupted in the days that followed.