So I went to her rescue. Every time. No questions.
“Let me get dressed and head to her school,” I said, reaching for my clothes.
Kairo stood behind me. I could tell he was frustrated, and by his hardness, he wasn’t ready to end what I’d started. “I stayed home to give you hours of everything you say I don’t give.”
“I know,” I said, pulling my hair back. “But I need to handle this quick thing first.”
He stepped closer, hands at my waist, leaning in with one last kiss to my neck.
“I wasn’t done with you.”
I smiled. “I know, and I’m not either.”
“But you’re leaving.”
“Just for a little while. Have this same energy when I get back.”
He nodded once, like he wanted to be understanding but couldn’t hide the fact that he was pissed.
I kissed his cheek, grabbed my purse and keys, and left without saying anything else.
4
Kairo
I watched Khloe rush out the door to run to our daughter Kennedi’s rescue, even though I knew nothing was wrong.
I’d seen it a million and one times before. Kennedi would call for something as simple as a broken nail or because she didn’t like what they were serving at the café that day, and Khloe would drop everything. Always with no questions.
She tried to explain it to me over and over, why she reacted that way, why she felt like she had to show up every single time. She’d say it wasn’t about what Kennedi needed in that moment, but about what she missed when Kennedi was younger. Sure, Khloe wasn’t the most active mom while she was in law school. But she did what she had to do so our daughter could live the life she has now. Sacrifices had to be made. That’s how I saw it and how I’d always seen it.
Kennedi was still so young when we had a nanny, and honestly too young to remember any of it. So I never really understood why Khloe kept beating herself up about that time in our lives.To me, it was a sacrifice for a better life, but it was something she still carried guilt for.
For the past few years, though, I felt like I’d slowly lost my best friend. That was the part I never said out loud.
We’d been married since we were nineteen. Babies raising babies, according to everyone else. I didn’t want to become a stereotype. I didn’t want to prove everyone right. Especially the family members who said we married too fast, who said once we hit our mid-thirties things would change because we never experienced life before jumping into something so big.
Hell, we conceived Kennedi during our senior year of high school. What could be more serious than parenthood? I never understood people who acted like marrying someone was more serious than having a child with them. Yeah, I understand the financial part and the legal side of it. But what’s a few dollars lost in a divorce compared to a child?
With kids, it’s not that simple. You’re tied together no matter what. At least eighteen years, minimum. And even after that, if you’re doing it right, it never really ends.
I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a shot of whiskey, the glass clinking softly against the counter. The burn settled my nerves.
It wasn’t often that I called the office and told them I wasn’t coming back after lunch. That alone should’ve meant something to my wife. After hearing Khloe complain so much about my late hours and only having enough energy at night to eat and shower, I took it upon myself to dedicate the evening to her.
Even though we were slammed. Even though deals were waiting. Even though my dad would probably call asking where I was. Because in my mind, a man wasn’t a man if he wasn’t a provider.
That wasn’t something I questioned, it was something I was raised in. My father built an empire brick by brick, and I grewup watching him equate love with long days and sacrifice with success. Khloe came from a providing father too, so I figured she would understand.
What I didn’t see growing up was how providing had slowly turned into absence. How somewhere between contracts and closing statements, I stopped noticing when my wife needed more than financial security.
I wanted to give her everything. I just didn’t realize everything meant that it couldn’t always include me.
I downed another shot of whiskey, exhaled, and stared at the empty doorway she’d rushed through minutes earlier.
Plans never go as planned. And lately, neither did love.
I ran a hand down my face and sighed before grabbing my phone off the counter and calling the office.
