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2
Alexis
I wake up slowly, shaking my head to dislodge the pressure on my cheeks. Blinking slowly, I open my eyes, jerking when I’m met with Lizzy’s blue-eyed stare. She might have gotten my black hair, but her eyes are all her daddy’s. She’s so close our eyelashes are practically brushing against each other, and her little hands are squeezing my cheeks until I’m sure my lips resemble those duck faces girls used to make when posing for selfies.
“Mommy?” she whispers while I swallow convulsively, trying to dislodge the camel marching band in my mouth.
“Yes?” I whisper back, finally managing to work some moisture back into my mouth.
“Are you awake?”
I don’t know why we’re whispering, but I go with it. “I am now.”
“Can you make me breakfast?”
She’s lying on top of me, squishing my boobs with her chest and her knees digging into my stomach. “I can do that, but you’ll need to get off me first. Unless you want me to just carry you around like a baby koala?” She giggles and scrambles off, knees and elbows everywhere. I’m not sure how I didn’t wake up when she climbed on, but the empty wine bottle, and the pounding behind my eyes when I sit up, might have something to do with it. It takes me a few seconds, but the previous night comes rushing back. I must have passed out on the couch at some point. Quickly grabbing my phone, my heart sinks when I see there are no missed calls or messages. Not from him, not from a hospital, not from anyone. Lucas didn’t come home. Fury, so sharp that it takes my breath away, rushes through me. Where the fuck is my husband? Is he so angry about our fight that he stayed in a hotel? That’s the best-case scenario I can think of, but even that fills me with so much anger that I want to scream. I manage to drag myself to the kitchen, where I swallow two pills before making coffee. All I want to do is crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and sleep. Forget about this day. Hell, forget about the past week. But I can’t. Life goes on, Lizzy needs breakfast, and then we have the outing to the Botanic Gardens. Just because I’m a mess inside doesn’t mean that life stops.
I leave Lizzy to her scrambled eggs and toast while I have a shower. The warm water is soothing, but I can't relax, getting more and more worked up with each second that passes. By now, it's eleven, and Lucas is still not home. I am angry and hurt, but I decide not to be rash. I won’t confront him and tell him I know he flew back last night. Instead, I’ll wait for him to tell me. I’ll give him the rope, and if he wants to hang himself, he can do it. God, I hope he doesn’t use the rope. I hope there’s a rational explanation for all this.
Luckily, the trolley isn’t full, and we find seats easily. We get a few smiles when we walk down the aisle, which is normal when Lizzy wears this outfit. It’s a knee-length, rainbow-colored dress layered at the bottom with lots of netting and decorated with blue butterfly appliques. The wings are sparkly pink and huge, taking up most of her back and making it really awkward for her to sit without squashing them. Every month we visit the butterfly exhibit, and every time she insists on wearing it. I somehow smile my way through the exhibition, not that it’s hard when Lizzy’s buzzing all over the place. I somehow smile while we’re having lunch at the café where I only pick at my salad, my appetite having deserted me entirely. I somehow even smile all the way home until I see Lucas’s silver Mercedes parked in our drive.
“Daddy’s home!” Lizzy calls excitedly, running up to the front door. My steps are much slower, almost dragging, my stomach churning in dread. I don’t know what to expect.
Right now, I don’t even know what to feel. My emotions are a rollercoaster of anger and sadness, mixing with the uncertainty of what’s about to happen. The last time I felt like this was in Uni when waiting for a test result, where I knew I was going to do badly but still hoped by some miracle that I did well.
“There’s my flutterby,” Lucas says when Lizzy throws herself into his arms. “I’ve missed you.” He picks her up, giving her a tight squeeze while burying his face in her hair.
“You missed the butterflies, Daddy.”
“I know, my baby, but I had to work.” Liar. I put my bag down on the entrance hall table. Finally, he looks at me, acknowledging my presence. I search his face, my gaze lingering on his eyes, searching for some kind of clue as to where he’s been and how he’s feeling. But I can’t see anything. He looks like my Lucas, his eyes soft and the corner of his lips tugged up into a little smile. The coldness I saw before he left is gone, and the relief I feel is so intense it makes my legs feel weak. He puts Lizzy down, and with a few steps, I’m in his arms, taking a deep breath of his warm, woodsy scent.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers into my hair, his arms tightening around me. “I missed you.”
I pull back slightly, staring up at the man that’s been my anchor for thirteen years. “I missed you, too.” He drops a soft kiss on my lips before turning his attention back to Lizzy, who’s tugging on his leg.
“Come, Daddy, I want to show you the picture I drew at school.” His arms tighten around me before he reluctantly releases me and follows her to the kitchen. I follow behind them, grabbing a beer and water from the fridge while Lizzy’s pointing out all the different colored butterflies in the picture she drew. Still feeling thirsty after the wine last night, I gulp down half the water. Lizzy finally runs out of steam and heads upstairs to change. I guess even she has a limit to how long she can wear that uncomfortable dress.
“How was your trip?” I ask when he settles across from me at the kitchen island, taking a long pull from his beer.
“It was good.”
I have so many questions I want to ask him, but I know I have to be careful. The last thing I want is for him to know that I know he got back last night. I want him to tell me, and I desperately want there to be a good explanation for why he didn’t come home.
“And your dinner, Friday? Did the client like your pitch?” My heart thumps as I wait, holding my breath. Please don’t lie, Lucas, please, I beg silently.
His gaze drops down, focusing on his finger that’s rubbing up and down the condensation on his beer bottle.
“It went well. We’ll see what the next few weeks bring.”
I swear I can feel my heart breaking, shattering into tiny little pieces. I’m sure if I wasn’t sitting down, my legs would have buckled underneath me. My husband’s lying to me. There was no dinner. He was on a plane coming back to fuck knows who because it sure as hell wasn’t me.
“Right,” I murmur, trying to take a few calming breaths. It’s useless, though. My heart is racing like a freight train, trying to claw its way out of my chest, and I need to get out of here. I can’t look at him because it feels as if I’m looking at a stranger. I need space from him to regroup. To try to figure out what I’m going to do next. One of the things I have treasured most in our relationship was our honesty. Or so I’d thought. Even if it was brutal on our emotions, we decided early on in our relationship that being completely open, honest, and transparent with each other was the only way to go. Evasions, lies, and half-truths weakened a marriage, and we didn’t want that for ours. Now here he was, doing the opposite of what we swore to do. “Right,” I murmur again, standing up. “It’s good to have you home. Lizzy’s been missing you. She’ll most probably be down in a minute, begging for a swim. I have some work to do, so if you don’t mind watching her?”
“You don’t want to join us?”
“Maybe a bit later, but I’m swamped with work, and there are a few things I need to work on.”
His hand on my arm stops me as I’m about to leave the kitchen, his gaze searching as he peers into my eyes. “Is everything okay?”
