Page 34 of Everlasting Vows

I push down my uncertainty and move close enough to tangle my fingers with Abbi’s. It’s something we always used to do—a way to always be connected. It’s something that’s fallen by the wayside over the last several years. Some of the tension falls from my shoulders when she squeezes my fingers instead of pulling away. It’s a small win that I’ll hold close.

She straightens and shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep. It happens more often than not these days.” I’ve often heard her up in the middle of the night, grabbing a glass of water. I thought nothing of it, but there must be a reason. Maybe it’s because she always has so much to do around here.

I tug her across to the kitchen island and drag out a stool. “Sit. I’ll make you some hot chocolate. Maybe it’ll help.”

While Abbi gets comfortable, I set out the ingredients and equipment I need, then work methodically to make the warm drink. Within a few minutes, I slide a cup across the counter to her, and she takes it, offering me a small smile and quiet thanks.

“Oh, by the way. I’ve set up automatic debits for our bills, so you don’t need to worry about them anymore.” I grab the marshmallows out of the pantry, grab my cup, and take a seat beside her. “And I’ve also set up a regular shopping order that will be delivered every Friday night. I’ve added you to the app so you can add whatever you need.”

She stops and looks at me as if she doesn’t understand what I’m saying, but then her lips widen a little and my heart stutters at her smile. “Why did you do all that?”

I shrug. “To save you some work. I realize how much you’ve been doing around here with no help from me. I figured this would take some things off your plate.”

She reaches for the marshmallows, seemingly thinking something over. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” A quiet laugh huffs over her lips. “I don’t know why I didn’t think to do that myself.”

“Sometimes we’re too busy to think of ways to make things easier for ourselves. We automated the payments for our bills at work, so I figured I could do the same here.” I sip my hot chocolate, hopeful that Abbi can see that I’m trying to share the load.

She nods her agreement as she takes two marshmallows, dropping them in her drink, and I do the same. Then she pinches another between her fingers and pops it into her mouth. The icing sugar coats her lips, and the temptation to lean forward and kiss it off is almost too much. I find my body leaning close to her and consciously have to focus to pull myself away.

I peel my focus away from her mouth. “Tell me why you can’t sleep?” I ask, hoping she’ll open up to me.

One shoulder rises and falls as she stares down into her hot chocolate. “Perimenopause. Hot flashes, night sweats, the regular three a.m. restless wake up,” she rattles off as if her experience is nothing.

“How long has this been going on?”

She glances at me, and the disbelief in her eyes cuts me deep. “About three or four years. I’ve lost count. This is just my life right now. There’s not much I can do about it except ride it out.”

My chest caves in as if she’s punched me in the gut. Three or four years and I had no idea. I’m so out of touch with my wife that I didn’t know she was going through perimenopause. What in the actual fuck? I squeeze the tension in my shoulder. “Is there anything I can do to help?” There must be something that can help.

She holds up her cup with a ghost of a smile. “This helps.”

“If there’s anything I can do, let me know. I want to help,” I tell her.

She studies me for a moment, then nods once. “Sure.” But her agreement sounds empty. I doubt she’ll share.

We fall into silence. I don’t know what Abbi’s thinking, but the only thought running on repeat in my mind is what a shit husband I’ve been. My head’s been so far up my ass that I was completely unaware of what Abbi’s dealing with.

“Nix?” Abbi’s soft voice draws my attention back to her.

When I drag my eyes up, I find her dark eyes studying me. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay? You look tired.”

I straighten in my seat. “I’m fine,” I answer, then blow across the top of my mug as if I didn’t just lie to my wife.

Her brows dip low over her eyes, creating deep creases between them, and she scoffs. “Don’t lie to me. The dark circles under your eyes have their own dark circles.” She looks at my laptop over my shoulder, then back at me. “If you’re having trouble sleeping, working won’t help that, you know.”

I laugh without a hint of humor. “I haven’t been to bed yet. I’m trying to catch up on work.”

“Nix! It’s three a.m.,” Abbi admonishes.

“I fucking know what time it is,” I grunt. “I haven’t been to bed before four a.m. all week because Gallagher’s been out of action. I’ve had to take his place in the field. This is the only time I have to keep on top of things.”

Abbi gasps. “Why didn’t you say something? You’ve been coming home early and cooking dinner and working on the backyard. As well as working out ways to make life easier for me around here.” She looks around us as if she’ll find the answer somewhere. “You could have caught up with your work then and still gone to bed at a reasonable time.”

“Because I don’t want to go back on my promise, Abs.” She looks at me blankly, her mouth drawn tight. “I promised to leave work at work and to do better at being present for you.” Not that she’s made it easy this week, but I’ve stuck to my end and been here. Been available. I’m trying to be consistent to regain her trust. It’s been difficult when I’ve itched to check emails and messages, but I’ve done it. Done it for her. For us. But this is the price I pay. Staying up all hours to catch up.

Her mouth falls open. “You should have said something,” she murmurs, waving her hand toward the kitchen table and my laptop. “I don’t want you to work this late and make yourself so tired that you’ll fall asleep behind the wheel of your car. What good will that do anyone?”