“I know it’s been hard to connect lately,” she said, still curled on her side, his erection still against her back.
“We knew it would be this way. You are in an entirely new role. It’s an adjustment,” he said.
He was so kind. He knew all the right things to say. They had talked about this so much before having Freya—this phase when they would feel distant from each other, when their relationship would be challenged in ways it never had been before.
“Maybe we can start with a date night,” he said. “Baby steps.”
Had he not seen her “Ask me anything” story the other day? She was explicitly opposed to this “date night” concept, this rush for couplesto get back to their time together and put their own needs first when their babies were still so little.
“I don’t feel right being away from her,” she said, though perhaps the true, full sentence wasI don’t feel right being away from her to be with you.
“But she’s away from you at night sometimes,” he said. “With Sitka.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
There was no good answer. It wasn’t different, not really. It was just that she was sleeping in those times of separation. She could wake up the next morning with the baby placed back beside her and pretend like it had never happened.
“I just feel like when I’m awake, I should be engaged with her.”
“Youareengaged with her.”
She could hear what he wasn’t saying:I need you to be engaged with me too.
“Sitka takes her on nature walks, so you have that time away from her too,” he said.
“For, like, fifteen minutes.” Her tone was argumentative, and she couldn’t help it.
“I would take fifteen minutes alone with you,” he said. “I’m easy. It doesn’t take much.”
She imagined the rushed sex, his body hot and sweaty with pent-up need, thrusting faster than she liked in the interest of time. It would be nothing like the long, tantric sex they had enjoyed before Freya, whiling away entire afternoons in each other’s arms, making a game of tallying orgasms.
“I went with them today. On the walk. I go with them sometimes. It’s not always just Sitka and Freya.”
He sighed. “You don’t have to defend yourself, babe.”
She rolled over to face him now, took his face in her hands, pressed her lips against his. She didn’t feel anything. It was like kissing a distant relative.
“I’m sorry,” she said. Because she was. Of course he wanted more. He missed her. She should choose to see it as sweet instead of bothersome.
“You don’t have to apologize,” he said. “I just crave you a lot lately.”
“I know.”
His hands stroked her bare belly, then moved up to her breasts, the very breasts that had just been feeding their child. She envied his ability to compartmentalize, to forget about all her motherhood duties and see her just as a desirable woman.
“I’m so tired,” she told him.
It was so trite, becoming this person. Shameful too. People turned to her for guidance on creating an ongoing spark with their partner, and here she was, extinguishing the fire she’d tended for so many years, snuffing it out as if it were nothing. Erik could easily call her out on her hypocrisy, but he wasn’t mean spirited that way. Maybe he would be, eventually, if she let this go on too long.
“Maybe we can talk about this in our next State of the Union,” she said.
They hadn’t been keeping up with their weekly State of the Unions like they had before having Freya. It was something she had presented to her followers as a nonnegotiable, but, it turned out, it was very much negotiable. Forgotten, in fact.
“Okay,” he said, and kissed her on the nose.
He took his hands off her body, and she felt her body relax, finally. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
