Punching his name on my phone, I head back towards the front while the line rings, since I still need to grab a few toiletries. The phone rings loudly in my ear as I cut through most of the clothing aisles while my eyes tear across the store in search of my missing husband.
My phone falls out of my hand once I finally spot Lee in an aisle we typically avoid at all costs. He’s holding up a pink little onesie with florals splayed all over it.
Why is he in the baby section?
And why does he have the most wistful smile on his lips as he stares at the tiniest of outfits?
I watch as he hangs the onesie back on the rack and grabs his phone from his pocket.
“Shit,” I mumble and dive to the ground to fetch my phone before he answers. My insides feel like lead. “Hey,” I say quietly from my position on the floor.
“Hi, gorgeous. You done trying everything on?” Lee asks, his voice calm like always. Like, he’s not standing in the aisle he knows I hate most. “I bet that red one was the winner, right?”
I feel as though I’ve been stabbed in the heart. He knows how I feel about not wanting children of my own after what happened to me. I’ve never hidden the attack from him, and he’s read all the news articles about the case. He’s held me during the nightmares that used to plague me years ago, and knows that my attacker is still out there somewhere. I’ve never held any of those truths from him.
But I can never tell him that I lied about losing the baby to give my daughter a better life. All he needs to know is that I don’t want to risk ever getting pregnant again because I’m too scared to lose another one. Half-truths and half-lies keep my daughter safe.
“Baby? You there?”
From my angle, I can see him walking away. I wait until his shoes disappear before I risk standing. “Umm, yeah. Sorry, I was getting distracted by more clothes. The red one was great,” I choke out. “Where did you go?”
“I’m in the book aisle, naturally.”
I clear my throat. “Oh, I looked over there but didn’t see you.”
Lee chuckles over the line. “I’ve been here the whole time, so you must not have looked very thoroughly, my dear.”
“I must have missed you. I’ll be right there,” I force out.
Why is my husband lying to me?
I pick at my Caesar salad from Lucene’s pizzeria, moving the lettuce and croutons around my plate in listless waves. I’m too upset to eat after seeing Lee holding that stupid onesie.
Not only am I upset, but I’m also confused as to why he lied to me about it. When did our marriage turn into one where we can’t be open and honest?
When we met, he was just as adamant as I was about not wanting children. We agreed that there is absolutely nothing wrong with being childless by choice, especially with the careers we were pursuing. Because that has always beenmychoice, and I loved him for agreeing with that choice. He told me he didn’t see himself having children, since working in a hospital is such a taxing, time-consuming career.
I don’t know how to ask Lee if he regrets that now. I’m even more unsure if I want to know his answer.
“You’re being extra quiet tonight,” Lee says with furrowed brows as he stares at me from across the cherry wood table. “Are you nervous about the trip?”
I shrug my shoulders. “No, not really. I’m more nervous about fitting all my clothes into my suitcase than Iam about the trip.”
Lee reaches across the table and takes my hand in his, caressing my knuckles gently with his thumb. “Then what is it? You’ve seemed off since we left the store.”
Sometimes I hate that he knows me so well because it’s impossible to lie to him.
Here goes my happy marriage bubble.
“I saw you holding that baby onesie,” I say through clenched teeth while struggling to meet his eyes. His thumb immediately ceases its soft swipes over my knuckles.
Lee sighs and yanks his hand away, making me flinch both outwardly and inwardly as I wait with bated breath to hear whatever lies are about to spill out of his mouth.
“Well?” I ask when he refuses to look at me.
He runs his hands through his dark hair, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Capri,” he finally responds.
My hand forms a fist on my lap as a new wave of anger and disbelief washes over me. We don’t ignore the elephant in the room. And this is a particularly large damn elephant.
