Page 18 of The Unraveling

“Yeah, right.” He shook his head and tore his jacket off the back of the chair, storming toward the front door. “Enjoy your pills.”

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here.”

Even though I’d watched him rip open the door and yank it shut behind him, I jumped when it slammed. I was so on edge these days. My heart constantly raced, and I felt permanently off-kilter. The only time I relaxed was when I was at work and could immerse myself in other people’s problems.

I stared at the closed door for a long time, not that I expected Connor to come back. He wouldn’t. I’d just given him a new excuse to spend hours at the bar getting drunk. At least today he had a legitimate reason to be upset. Lately, he just picked a fight about anything when I got home from work and then disappeared for hours, coming home smelling like a brewery. Sometimes if I was still awake when he returned, I pretended to be sleeping. The alcohol made him emotional, and he’d come back upset and apologize. Then he’d want to have makeup sex. But his overindulgence often had another effect—the inability to maintain an erection. Which made him angry all over again. It had become a vicious circle I wanted to avoid.

I had a hollow feeling in my stomach as I thought about what my marriage had become in just a few short months. My loving, thoughtful husband had become someone I didn’t recognize. Things kept getting worse by the day. Could he really fault me for not wanting to get pregnant right now? Sure, we were a team, and I should have spoken to him. But in the end, it was my decision what to do with my body. Not to mention, I would essentially be raising a child by myself if things kept going the way they’d been. I couldn’t leave a child with a drunk man who had anger issues. I might’ve been wrong to not discuss things with him, but he was responsible for creating the environment that made me feel like I couldn’t.

Rather than wallowing any more, I rinsed my coffee mug and decided to take a shower. Maybe I’d take a walk if Connor didn’t come back soon. Head to my favorite bookstore. Pick up an overpriced latte, too. Halfway down the hall to the bathroom, I was stopped by a knock at the door.

Maybe Connor forgot his keys?

Maybe he’s come back to talk, rather than drown his sorrows?

Maybe there’s hope for us after all…

But when I opened the door, my face fell.

“Nice to see you, too,” Irina chided. “Jeez. You two are a matching set.”

My brows knitted. “Who two?”

“You and Connor.” She thumbed over her shoulder. “I just saw him in the lobby. I said hello, but he didn’t even hear me. It looked like someone had kicked his dog, and he was on the hunt to find them.”

Only it wasn’t his dog that had been kicked. It was him. And I’d been the punter.

I sighed. “We had a fight.”

Irina rubbed her stomach and shrugged. She was due any day now. “Eh. It happens. I got mad at Ivan last night because he didn’t warn me the tir-amisu he brought home tasted sour. I should add that I took it out of the garbage to taste it. I can pick a fight about anything these days.”

I chuckled and stepped aside. “Come in. I think you’re just what I need right now.”

She held up a finger. “Not so fast. Do you have Nutella?”

“I think so. Connor loves it on toast.”

“All right. I’ll grace you with my presence, then.”

Irina and I went into the kitchen. I found the Nutella in a cabinet and pulled a loaf of bread from the drawer.

“No bread necessary.” Irina waved me off. “Just a spoon, please.”

I smiled. “Sure.”

She scooped out a heaping spoonful and spoke with her mouth full. “So what’s going on with you and Mr. Cranky Pants?”

I sighed. “I did something stupid.”

She shrugged. “So? He’s a man. I’m sure he does stupid shit all the time. It’s much cheaper when we mess up. If Ivan gets in trouble, I get jewelry. If I screw up, he gets a blowie. Just toss a pillow on the floor for your knees, and say you’re sorry into the microphone.”

If only it were that easy. I shook my head. “We’re really struggling lately. It feels like Connor is angry all the time.”

“Of course he is. He’s terrified that he’s never going to get to play again. Hockey is all these guys have known since they were three years old. Remember when Ivan had to have surgery a few years ago? He took a stick to the neck six months before our wedding.”

“He had spinal profusion, right?”

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