Chapter 5

Moira

Well, that didn’t last long.

The glow… post-orgasmic high… feeling of connection with my husband.

He’s in a pattern of coming home late again—five days in a row now—and as I strain the spaghetti, I know he’s not going to make dinner tonight. Not because of intuition, or because he’s gone back to the workaholic pattern that’s entering into days of repetition, but because Lila called me to tell me that he had another emergency come up. To Zach’s credit, the prior four nights he’s missed dinner, and subsequently sex with me, he’s called himself to let me know he’s up to his neck in work. He was so damn apologetic with promises to make it up that I couldn’t help but reassure him it was all good.

Even tonight, when Lila called me, she was very clear why she was calling and not Zach. Apparently, he was stuck on a five-way conference call with other board members, trying to deal with a steaming, hot fire… the surprising resignation of the CFO of the company who is leaving for a major competitor.

So, as far as excuses go, that’s a pretty damn good one, and I couldn’t be mad about it.

But I could be sad.

And frustrated.

And—

“Why are you scowling at the pasta, Moira dear?” Randall asks, and I lift my face to him.

He’s helping Jaime hold a small cup of water to drink from, insistent she’s ready to give up the sippy cup and hey… if he can get her to drink without spilling, I’m all for it. Cannon is quietly tapping away on my laptop I had opened on the table; it’s purely amazing what small kids can do with technology these days and the abundance of apps for their entertainment and learning. I’m not sure how I’d ever get a damn meal cooked without Barney for Jaime and electronics for Cannon.

I give a sigh and lay the truth out to Randall, because even though I don’t have the same, life-long connection that Zach has to him, I’ve come to greatly love him. He’s done so much for Zach… for me… for our family. And he does it out of pure love without the expectation of anything in return. He’s become a father figure to me as well as Zach, and I trust in our relationship to seek his advice when necessary.

Lifting the colander, I give a shake to the pasta as steam wafts up. “Just missing my husband. All he seems to do is work.”

I know that sounds whiny. There are some who would think I was stupid to divulge this to what is essentially Zach’s boss, but Randall is first and foremost family, and I have no such hesitation.

Randall nods in understanding. “I know he’s put in a few late nights here and there, and tonight… well, Charlie resigning was out of the blue.”

I give Randall a quick look of disbelief and shake my head. Is it possible that he doesn’t truly know how absent Zach has been for several months now?

“Randall… this is the fifth night in a row he’s missed dinner. The last four nights he hasn’t come home until after ten each night, and this has been pretty par for the course for months now.”

Randall gives a little jerk in his chair and pulls the cup back from Jaime. He actually starts to bluster a little bit. “Well… I mean, I’m sure he’s working and that there’s not anything untoward happening—”

I let out a bark of a laugh, which stops him mid-sentence. “Relax, Randall… I don’t think Zach is cheating on me. I’m sorry if you got that impression.”

“Oh, well,” he mutters with chagrin.

“It’s just… he’s missing out on so much with the kids, and I’m lonely because all I have is the kids. Granted, I’m going to be starting work next week, but that still doesn’t mean he won’t be missing out on stuff, and it will even impede on our time together further. It’s just—”

“Intolerable?”

“Frustrating.”

“Unbearable?”

“Frustrating,” I repeat. “I know his work is important, and he’s trying so hard to make you proud and comfortable with the opportunities you’ve given him.”

“But I am proud of him,” Randall says in confusion. “And he has nothing to prove to me. I know Zach’s value.”

“Well, I’m not sure he sees eye to eye with you on that,” I tell him as I dump the pasta onto a big platter. I start to spoon the sauce over the top as Randall gets up from his chair. He walks around the kitchen island that separates us and sets the small, plastic cup in the sink.

Jaime curiously eyes both of us, her eyes sliding over to the spaghetti, which is her favorite.

“I feel a bit guilty,” Randall says as he leans over to rest an elbow on the counter. He’s as dapper as ever with his snowy-white hair, youthful skin, and fashionable mauve button down with crisp, gray slacks.

“Why’s that?” I ask as I turn to the cupboard to pull out the plates.

“Well… I’ve had no problem with letting Zach step in and take over so many of my own duties. I should be there tonight handling Charlie’s resignation. It’s just… I’m trying to get him to learn all he can about the business. And he handles it all so effortlessly. But I never thought the fact it seems effortless is coming at the expense of him running himself into the ground… or impinging on your marriage.”

“It’s not hurting our marriage,” I hastily assure him as I turn from the cupboard and give him a confident smile that I truly don’t feel. It’s so hurting our marriage if it’s causing me to feel this way, but I don’t want to make Randall uneasy.

Even worse, even though Zach and I made promises to each other just a few days ago that we would always talk things out, I haven’t had the courage to bring it up. I didn’t want to seem like a whiner or a nag. I don’t ever want to see “that look” on his face when I try to bring up something to him, and he looks henpecked. I want to be the easygoing wife who can handle sacrifices for the greater good of the family, no matter how miserable it makes me.

“Moira,” Randall says sagely as he takes the plates from me and turns to head to the table. I grab the platter of pasta and follow behind him. After he sets his load down, he turns and takes the platter from me. He places it on the table and turns back again, his hands coming to my shoulders where they grip me with solid comfort. “Hear me when I say… there are many spouses who are completely fine with their significant others keeping hours like that. And that’s okay—nothing wrong with that. But there are others who are not, and there is also nothing wrong with you not liking it. In fact, I expect that has to do with the incredible bond you and Zach have. I expect it affects you harder.”

“You think so?” I ask with a soft smile, wanting him to impress upon me just how special Zach and I are together. I lamely need the reassurance.

“I know it. Never seen anything like it before. And while you may see Zach as being focused on work, I can absolutely guarantee you he is miserable being away from you and the kids. I’m betting the one thing that is keeping him going so strong is that he’s doing this for you and the kids.”

“Neither one of us wants to let you down,” I tell him, making sure he understands Zach will do whatever is necessary to pay Randall back for his generosity.

“It’s not possible for either of you to do that,” he says with a chuckle, and the tightness I had been sporting most of the week in my chest seems to loosen. “Zach is going to have to cut back, that’s all there is to it, and me and the company will adjust. It will be fine, trust me.”

I let out what may be the biggest sigh of relief in the history of sighs. Giving him a grateful smile, I hug him to let him know how much this means to me. “You think he’s going to fight you on that, or will he just capitulate?”

“Sorry?” Randall asks, his head quizzically tilted.

I falter, but then I mumble. “You said he needs to cut back—”

“Well, he does, Moira,” Randall says with a twinkle in his eye. “But I’m not the one who’s going to tell him that. You are. This is yours and Zach’s problem, and you need to figure out how to communicate with each other about it.”

“Pardon me?” I ask, completely dumbfounded.

Chuckling, Randall sits down and uses the tongs I had laid on top of the pasta to dish a tiny bit out for Jaime. He then starts to cut the strands into small pieces with a fork. “I’m not doing the hard work for you. It should be enough for me to let you in on the little secret that I don’t expect Zach to keep insane hours. I expect diligence from him, and he’ll give it to me, but him missing this much time with the family is really not needed. But you need to put your foot down, and you need to let Zach know this. I’m not getting involved because there is a tiny chance that perhaps Zach needs to do this for his own sense of accomplishment, and I’m not about to impede that. That’s for a husband and wife to figure out on their own.”

I stare at him a moment, waiting for the anxiety to creep back in because I’m not getting an easy fix.

But it doesn’t, because he’s right.

I need to do this.

Instead, I give him an eyebrow raised look of awe and shake my head. “How did you get to be so smart?”

“Years of practice, my dear,” he says as he transfers the cut-up pasta to the plastic table of Jaime’s high chair. I grab a small plate and pull some over for Cannon. I don’t bother cutting his up because he’s a big boy who has mastered the delicate art of pasta twirling—somewhat—with a fork. I set it down in front of him and pull the laptop away. He starts to make a protesting sound, but I slide the spaghetti under his nose and he’s adequately redirected, as it’s also his favorite meal.

When I sit down next to Randall, he hands me a plate. We’re silent a moment as we twirl pasta and eat a few bites. After swallowing and patting my mouth with a napkin, I set my fork down and level my eyes on him. “Randall… thank you.”

He glances up, smiles as he chews, and just gives me a small nod in acknowledgment. It’s a confident dip of his head to me, and it says all I need to know.