Page 20 of Everlasting Vows

I can do it for Prue.

I nod as the doorbell rings. Nix leaves the kitchen to collect our pizza, and I fill two glasses with lemon mineral water, grab some napkins, and sit at the table as nerves tumble through my stomach.

When he returns, we eat quietly, the atmosphere heavy with discomfort and uncertainty. If I stay, is this how it will always be? This sense of unfamiliarity. We have intimate knowledge of each other, yet we sit together sharing a meal as if we’re strangers. Conversation used to flow so easily. We never had to think through each sentence as if we’re walking through a minefield, avoiding the hidden bombs.

“Have you heard from Pam? How’s her mother?” Nix breaks the silence.

I put down my slice of pizza; I almost forgot he came to my office this morning. “I spoke with her at lunch. Her mom’s still unresponsive, and she said the nurses have been giving her sympathetic smiles whenever they walk into the room.” My hand shakes as I wipe my mouth with the paper napkin. “It all happened so fast. Even though Pam’s doing her best to stay strong, I could hear the devastation in her voice.” I’m not close with my parents, but I can imagine the pain she’s feeling. Losing a loved one is never easy. “I wish I could do more.”

“You’re doing everything you can by making sure she doesn’t have to worry about work and can focus on her mom. That’s what she needs right now.” He sends me a reassuring smile, the creases around his mouth deepening.

We return to eating our pizza, and I know he’s right about Pam, but I’m a person of action. I like to help directly if I can. “I’d like to do more. Maybe I can order some meals to be delivered to her parents’ house or something. That way, she and her dad can still eat properly.”

Nix nods. “Good idea. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

He asks about my volunteer shift with CompassionAide and I tell him all about Elijah and Hannah and how I wanted to bring them home.

“If you feel that strongly, you should. They could stay in Murphy’s room. He’s not using it right now.”

I shouldn’t be surprised by Nix’s generosity—he had it tough growing up after his dad passed away. He knows what it’s like to fall on hard times.

“Simon has explicitly told me I’m not allowed to offer our home to strangers. He says that volunteering is enough.” I fidget with the pizza box. “But if I see them again, I’ll offer. I doubt they’ll take me up on it, but I can try.” I take another piece of pizza, the idea sending warmth cascading through my body.

Our conversation stalls.

Because I don’t want to ask him about work.

It’s the main contributing factor to our marriage breakdown. I know it’s selfish and rude. Unsupportive, even—especially since he’s trying to be supportive of my volunteer work. But I can’t bring myself to care about something that’s hurt us so deeply.

I take my last bite of pizza and swallow it down with water. “Thanks for dinner.” I wipe my mouth. “And thanks so much for the new storage in my craft room. It’ll make such a difference. I really appreciate it.”

He dips his chin. “You’re welcome. How about I clean this up and then we can work out our plans for the backyard?” It’s late and I should head to bed, but the hopeful expression in his eyes has me agreeing. He could get me to agree to almost anything when he looks at me like that.

I watch him move about our kitchen fluidly, and remember the times I would sit and watch him prepare dinner for us when he was home from his tours. He took such pride in feeding his family, as if it was some great accomplishment. I took those moments for granted, thinking they’d always continue. If only I could have seen into the future … seen how our marriage would change. I would have celebrated those moments and valued them for the treasured memories they would become.

8

NIX

I’m unsure how to bring us back to solid ground. Abbi’s not returning my questions like she normally does, and I realize how she carries the bulk of our conversations. It never used to be this way. I’ve never been as chatty as Abs, but we used to talk. Back and forth. It was never so one-sided as it is now.

I guess I have to keep showing up. Be persistent. Be patient. Lord knows she’s been patient with me, and it’s time I return the favor.

As I break down the pizza box, I rehash the discussions I had with Harry and Gabe this morning since Harry said it’s important to keep Abbi in the loop. Wiping my hands down the length of my thighs, I suck in a deep breath and turn to face my wife. “I had a meeting with Gabe this morning.”

Her gaze rises to meet mine with cool interest that reaches deep into my bones, freezing me to the marrow. “Don’t you guys meet every morning?”

This version of my wife is foreign to me. She’s harder to navigate, more closed off, and I fear any wrong move will cause more damage between us. I’m pretty sure my stunt in the bathroom set us back, and I’m still kicking my ass over my stupidity and inability to read the situation.

“Well, yeah, we do. But this morning I wanted to discuss making some important structural changes within the business. We’ve shuffled things around so I won’t have to work nights, and I should have most weekends free. And we’re going to investigate hiring another manager to take some of the scheduling load off my shoulders so I can leave work at work.”

Her eyebrows rise, and her mouth drops open a little while her beautiful eyes trace over my face as if she’s searching for falsehoods. I don’t think she expected me to make the changes necessary to allow me to be more present for her. But she knows I’m a man of my word, even if I haven’t shown her in recent years.

She presses her mouth into a firm line, studying me for a long moment, and I shift beneath her scrutiny. Of all the people in the world I never want to disappoint, Abbi is always at the top of the list, and to see her obvious distrust in me shatters my soul and destroys my hope that we can work through this. That we can save our marriage. Save us.

I step closer to her, silently begging her to believe me. “I also met with Harry at The Bunker. He’s going to help me work through my issues. He’s working with me to make a plan moving forward to help me save our marriage. I want you to know how serious I am about saving us, Abs.” I hold my hands out to my sides, palms open toward her, hoping she understands and believes how sincere I am.

Her bottom lip trembles and her eyes grow glossy so quickly that no matter how fast she blinks, the tears breach her lashes and trail down her cheeks. She swipes at them as if they’re the enemy and turns away from me. Wrapping her arms across her body, she stares out at our darkened backyard. “I thought we were going to discuss the plans for the backyard,” she whispers toward the window.