“I’m just debating the merits of a good educational foundation,” reasoned Gabe, knowing he was starting to win the argument when Britney called him names. It had been that way ever since their first debate against each other at Livingston Academy. Britney narrowed her eyes and Gabe’s stomach clenched. She was about to deliver a knockout punch.
With a sickeningly sweet smile, Britney responded, “I’ll compromise. Compromise is what marriage is all about. A house in a middleclass neighborhood near the park, but close enough to Livingston Academy so he can attend, continuing the family tradition. I want to keep our child grounded instead of becoming a complete snobby bore.”
Gabe frowned. Was she calling him a snobby bore? It pricked his ego to hear her say it. “We don’t need a house in a middleclass area.”
“Yet we are getting one if you want your son to go to Livingston Academy,” Britney left to grab another box.
“Fine,” Gabe decided to agree for now. Once they saw the houses available, Britney was sure to change her mind and realize it wasn’t the type of lifestyle to raise a child in. What they needed was a nice secure condo building on the edge of the city with a great security system and doorperson. They could employ a driver to take the child to school each day and a nanny to deal with the mess the kid would leave. It was a good solution.
“I’m going to reduce my hours at my job,” Britney announced as she came in with the next box. “It makes sense since I’ll be staying home with the baby. Once he goes to preschool, I can increase a few hours if I want but I’ll still mostly work from home. Tara and I have already talked about it. She did it when she had her children and now I’ll get to do the same.”
“Why?” frowned Gabe. “If you want to work it isn’t a big deal. I’m not a traditionalist like my parents. Even though Mom didn’t work it wasn’t like we saw her very often with her charity events.”
Britney stopped, looking at him with something akin to pity. “I’m staying home and working part time because I hated being raised by a nanny. Children should be raised by their parents. They should know their mom and dad. Don’t you want to spend time with our child? I thought you would teach him how to play catch, ride a bike, bring him to ballgames, that sort of thing.”
James had never done any of those things with his sons. Gabe remembered his father teaching how to crunch numbers and spot discrepancies in reports. He had learned how to lead a company, not how to play catch. His cousins had taught him how to play and have fun, certainly not James. “I don’t know. I guess, maybe. I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“Which is why we need a house with a backyard,” said Britney with satisfaction. “Maybe even a dog.”
“No,” Gabe bit out. “I definitely draw the line at dogs.”
“Then a cat,” Britney tossed over her shoulder as she deposited the box on the sofa of the living room. She tore off the tape, sorting through bubble wrap to bring out a lamp.
“Cats get hair everywhere,” Gabe gave the offending stand mixer a last glare before going to the living room to try to reason with Britney. “They aren’t good for kids.”
“Says who?” she moved aside a stack of printed reports off an end table and put down her lamp, looking for an electrical outlet.
“Says the kid who choked on a hairball and whatever else cats leave behind,” Gabe wrinkled his nose. “No pets.”
“Fish? A turtle?” Britney leaned over the sofa, stretching to plug in the lamp.
“Who’s going to clean the aquarium?” questioned Gabe while he had a look at the view. Berating himself, he tore his eyes away. He didn’t like Brit, he reminded himself. “I’m certainly not going to.”
He was marrying Brit, the panicky thought interrupted him. She always argued with him, pushing the envelope. She disagreed with him and wanted to take risks. She wasn’t a safe choice.
“Good point,” she straightened then reached for the box. “We will stick to the dog then.”
“No dog,” he repeated, mentally dragging his thoughts back into the conversation.
“Something small,” Britney pulled a small framed picture out of the box, looking around the living room with a discerning eye. “What does your cousin Dillon have again? You know, those cute little fat things that smile.”
“I don’t know and we aren’t getting one,” Gabe felt like he was talking to himself for all the listening Britney was doing. “Pets are unhygienic. You don’t want our baby around unhygienic things. It’s unhealthy.”
Britney set down the frame with some satisfaction on a side table near the windows before turning to face Gabe and decide just how serious he was. He was pretty serious, she concluded. “We will revisit it when the baby is a little older. Perhaps just after the toddler phase. It will be better for him to grow up with a dog.”
“Are you even listening to me?” Gabe waived his arms in frustration.
“Not really,” Britney shrugged then smiled. “I have an appointment with the realtor next weekend so we can look at a house.”
Gabe stopped still, feeling a little trapped. “I’m not available.”
“Yes, you are,” she said smugly. “I already checked your agenda. There’s nothing listed.”
“There is a conference,” improvised Gabe quickly. “It is mandatory I be there.”
“There is no conference,” repeated Britney with patience, sticking magnets with cutesy flower designs on them to his fridge. His spotless, clean, stainless-steel fridge.
“Sure there is,” Gabe stated resolutely, trying to get out of house hunting with Britney. “I just didn’t write it down.”
“You write everything in your planner,” Britney said dryly. “And there is nothing for next weekend except reviewing a bunch of boring reports which you can do any time. You are coming with me if you want any say in where you live for the next five years. Otherwise, I’ll just pick for us.”
If she picked it, it would no doubt be some horrible pink creation with trim and knickknacks everywhere, thought Gabe as he forced a breath through his lungs. She might even go so far as to want a fixer-upper, since Britney loved watching those home makeover shows. Gabe had accidently found out that fact in college. He didn’t know why, but facts about Britney always seemed to stick in his brain despite his wish they wouldn’t. Gabe was not going to raise his kid and live for the next five years in some wholesome wreck of a house with asbestos and drywall dust everywhere while Brit held a crowbar and murmured she hadn’t realized it had been a supporting wall she had torn down. “Fine. I’ll go.”
Britney gave him a luminous smile and Gabe could feel his heart skip a beat. It’s just fear, he told himself firmly. It couldn’t possibly be anything else.
