Chapter Thirty-Eight

Gavin

I park outside our lifeless house and peer through the big bay window as memories of our first months here fuel the ache.

I’ve lost my patience, and that’s the one thing I need in abundance. She deserves it, not only because of what she’s suffered; but because of who she is, or was, what we were, and what I know we can still have. Every day I fight my own selfish needs to see that hers are met, but I feel like each time I step into our house I’m falling into darkness without a sign of light in sight. The struggle to remind myself it’s temporary is a daily battle.

Eight months. It’s been eight months since I’ve made love to my wife. I’ve been fixated on that fact for days. My resolve is fraying with my every botched attempt to close the space.

While intimacy isn’t everything, it played a large part in our relationship. But the woman I love sits inside our house battling demons she refuses to admit exist and doesn’t seem to care at all about it, so I can’t afford to either.

Daily, the same questions plague me—what more can I do? Who in the hell do I need to be to get through to her?

I’ll wait. And I’ll keep waiting until she makes her way back to me.

Anger prevents me from opening my door on this night.

She’s put me in unfamiliar territory, and the hardest part for me to swallow is that I didn’t even realize she had a drinking problem.

I’m losing her.

Gripping the wheel, I do my best to muster the strength to face her. I’m tired of the anger, the hidden resentment, but I’m not sure who’s harboring what anymore. I snubbed her last night and heard her crying when I’d come back calm enough to talk. Instead of offering her arms I knew she would refuse, I sat outside our bedroom door listening until she went silent. The fact that she was breaking down was encouraging, the fact that she would never let me bear witness to it had me shedding tears right along with her.

I love Katy, and I know no matter what happens, I always will, but for the first time since she came home, I don’t want to be here, and that scares me.

Pity party over, I pull into the garage and step inside the living room with enough determination to see my promise to her through. It’s what I see that stops me in my tracks.

Katy is standing in the middle of the living room, her too-thin frame clad in a sexy nightgown that used to hug her subtle curves. Her hair is fixed, and her makeup is done. She looks absolutely fucking beautiful, and if it weren’t for the look on her face, I would take consolation in the fact I know the effort she made is for me. I watch her for a few seconds as she flips back and forth between Fox and CNN.

“Katy?”

“They’re liars. All of them are fucking liars. No one knows the truth.”

“Tell me the truth,” I urge as tension rolls off of her in waves.

I get the same silent answer I’ve grown used to and feel the distance between us more than ever.

“Call the Today Show,” she whispers, her voice unrecognizable to me.

“What?”

“Tell them I’ll do it.”

The idea is ridiculous, and I step into her line of sight to ax it. “Katy—”

“I know exactly what I’m asking, Gavin,” she says as her eyes flit to mine. She’s seething. In the years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her so angry.

“I need this,” she tells me. “I need this, and I’m asking you for this. You want to know what I need from you? I need this. Please.”

My response is instant.

“Okay.”