“I am talking to her,” I defend myself. “It’s her that won’t talk to me.”
“Oh?” Darren says dryly. “That so? You two spent half your anniversary dinner sucking face.”
“Sex isn’t the problem.”
“You sure?” Darren asks. Then, in a mocking whisper, “Are you satisfying her in bed?”
“Darren,” I say in a stone voice. “I’m worried here, man.”
“Okay,” he says, immediately switching tones. “What are you worried about?”
I stare at the far wall of my office. “I’m worried she’s going to get tired of pretending to be okay and…”
“Leave you?” he asks quietly.
I don’t answer.
He exhales. “Dude. Jess loves you. She’s not going to leave you over a kiss.”
“It was more than that.” I run a hand through my hair. “I hid stuff from her. About work. About how close we were to going under. I let her think everything was fine when it wasn’t.”
There’s a beat.
“That’s a you thing,” Darren says.
“What?”
“Logan, you’ve been white-knuckling your own problems since we were kids.”
I huff. “I didn’t like dumping my crap on people.”
“Jess isn’t people,” he shoots back. “She’s your wife. So answer this question. If everything went to hell again, would you hide it from her?”
“…I don’t know.”
“Yeah,” he mutters. “That’s messed up.”
I rub my jaw. “What am I supposed to do?”
“I’d say go back to therapy, but you already bailed on that.”
“I didn’t bail,” I snap. “Jess and I were-” I cut myself off.
“Fine?” he says dryly. “You were fine?”
“She didn’t want to go to therapy,” I say.
“A year ago,” he replies. “Try again. Or enjoy living in constant worry.”
There’s a click before I can respond.
I stare at my phone.
…Asshole.
Our parents really messed him up.
Angela and Sean West. Married eighteen years before divorcing in the winter of 2010. You’d think becoming grandparents and going through Darren’s accident would’ve taught them how to tolerate each other again.
