Page 157 of Things We Burn

My mother’s freezer meals were a godsend.

“Accepting help isn’t failing, Chef,” he said mildly.

My head snapped up. “I’m aware of that, Kane,” I spat. “But this is it. This is my job now.” I gestured to the onesies. “Plentyof women do it. Thousands. Without help, without a hands-on partner. I just have to … figure out how in the hell they did it.”

It seemed like some big secret everyone was hiding, how one survived the 1,001 household tasks that needed done plus the 1,001 baby care tasks while also eating, sleeping and personally grooming oneself. An unachievable equation.

“You don’t have to figure it all out,” Kane reminded me. “We have the luxury of differing schedules and financial security to design our own lives. We don’t have to be stuck in Groundhog Day forever.”

I paused, chewing on my lip as I weighed his words. “Is this because this is too vanilla for you?” I couldn’t stifle the snark suddenly coloring my tone, buried for who knew how long.

“What do you mean by that?” Confusion tugged down his lips.

“You know exactly what I mean by that, Kane.” I slammed a folded burp cloth down much harder than necessary. “We haven’t had sex. Not once, even though I was cleared by the doctor. You are stuck in a house most of the time. With a lovely yet constantly crying baby and a woman who does not resemble the one you crossed the room at a party for. This isn’t us fucking in a dive bar in New York,” I hissed, inexplicably furious at him although he didn’t deserve it.

I let out a hollow laugh. I’d gone off the deep end. This was a breakdown, one that had been slowly building and fueled largely by the knowledge of my father. Yet I couldn’t stop it. “We won’t be living like that anymore. Or I won’t be. This is our life now. Not an adventure for you. This isn’t going to be death-defying, full of excitement. Our lives now revolve around responsibility, bedtimes, naps, bathtimes… This is going to get boring for you. I am not the same person who can be led around on the back of a bike, a woman with freedom. I’m not her anymore. This isn’t going to be enough for you.”

Iam not going to be enough for you, was what I left unsaid.

Kane’s face had been impassive when I started speaking, but by the time I was done, he was scowling, eyes blazing with fury.

“You really think that little of me?” he asked quietly. “Think that I’m so fuckin’ shallow that what I want for the rest of my life are empty adventures?”

I opened my mouth, realizing how cruel I’d sounded. He didn’t let me speak.

“You don’t get to say what you think isn’t enough for me.” I bristled at how cold he sounded, putting the dishes down on the coffee table. “You don’t even get to insinuate that a life where I’m a dad, where I get to watch our daughter grow, learn, laugh, discover is too fuckin’ordinaryfor me. And you sure as shit don’t get to tell me that watching my woman become a mother, care for our little girl, isn’t fuckin’ enough just because I don’t get to fuck you in a bar anymore.” He stepped forward. His face was menacing, his wired energy practically oozing from him. “And, Chef, I don’t think my days of fuckin’ you in bars are done. If they are, that’s fine with me. Any way I get to be inside of you, feel you clench against my cock, is just fuckin’ fine with me. And on top of that, any day I get to wake up with you, drink coffee with you and our daughter is thebest fuckin’ day of my life. You thinking that I need more than that, need more than you, is total fuckin’ bullshit.”

Again, I opened my mouth to say something, to say anything, but before I could, he walked away.

He didn’t slam the door shut behind him, but I got the feeling he would’ve if he could’ve.

Nor did I hear the sound of his motorcycle leaving.

So after calming myself down enough to breathe evenly, I went to look out the window to see what he was doing.

His bike wasn’t there.

He must’ve pushed it down the drive so the noise didn’t wake Mabel.

Even in his fury with me, he protected our daughter. Like always.

Regret, painful and all-encompassing, hit me then, the organ beneath my sternum aching. I’d just belittled him as a partner, and more importantly, as a father. I’d insinuated that he didn’t have the depth to love something pure and simply.

Yes, I’d voiced my greatest fears, but they were more about myself than Kane.

I wanted to race after him, wanted to crack open a bottle of tequila and drown my sorrows. I wanted to crawl into bed, cover my head and welcome oblivion.

With a squawk, Mabel not so gently reminded me I could do none of those things. I was a mother. So instead of immersing myself in the luxury of sorrow or any kind of breakdown, I tended to my daughter and hoped that Kane would come back.

Kane came back.

It was never a question, really. He gave no indication that he was going to leave us. He was not that kind of man.

Yet I was still off-kilter from the news of my father. He hadn’t seemed like that kind of man either. Not in a million years. Yet he left.

Add to that severe sleep deprivation, and I didn’t trust my own mind, let alone the mind of someone else.

Yet Kane came back. Less than two hours later.

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