Page 42 of Dream with Me

Why does he have my sweetener?

Troy stares at me, his eyes intense. He simply nods, then places his own mug on the coffee table and picks up my study book. He opens it to the page I have marked and clears his throat. He spends the next several minutes asking me test questions, and I answer, but I’m distracted.

“I’m on medication now.” I can’t help blurting it out. I’m sick of studying.

Troy looks up from the book, his brow furrowed with questions. “Huh?”

“I’m on medication.” I grip my coffee cup in my hands and look down into the caramel-colored mug of deliciousness. “For depression. Plus, I see a counselor about every three weeks now. My primary care provider thought it was severe enough that I needed counselingandmeds, at least for a while.”

I don’t lift my eyes right away, fearful of what I might see. Will he think I’m weak because I take medications? Will he be worried?

“Hey, Shan. Look at me, okay?” There’s no hint of judgment in his soft and soothing voice.

I force myself to meet his gaze. There’s an intensity in his eyes, but it’s comforting, not upsetting.

“Are you feeling better? I’m proud of you for taking care of yourself.” His words are so quiet they’d be difficult to hear if I wasn’t near him.

“I am. Feeling better, I mean. A lot better. I still have moments, but the medication and counseling have improved my symptoms. Plus, she’s helping me dig into?—”

I stop abruptly. He doesn’t need to know this. He probably doesn’t care anymore.

He scoots about a foot closer to me and reaches over, squeezing my hand while he waits. Okay, maybe he does care.

“She’s helping me dig into why I’m so hard on myself and talk so harshly about myself sometimes, especially when I’d never talk to another woman like that. I’m trying to change it, but it’s a process.”

I search his face to see if I can read his thoughts there. His slight smile is comforting.

Troy pulls his gaze away from mine and looks down at the couch. “I’m sorry I made you feel invisible. I should have done a better job showing you that I saw you. That I saw what a fantastic mother and woman you are. I hate that I caused you pain.”

“Troy—”

“No, wait. Please let me get this out. It’s no secret communication isn’t my strong point.” He pauses and lifts his eyes to mine. The sad smile on his face causes a pinch in my heart. I nod and grip my coffee cup like I’m drowning, and it’s a life preserver.

He stares at my coffee mug, focusing his attention there, then clears his throat.

“I think I knew you were depressed, and I felt helpless because I didn’t know what to do to help pull you out of it. I’m pretty sure I took the easy way out and tried to ignore it, do more around the house so you’d have less to worry about, and work more so you wouldn’t be worried about money. The problem is, in retrospect, none of that was what you needed.”

He lifts his head and looks at me, his face marred with regret and sadness. I don’t know how long we sit looking at each other, but it’s not uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” I whisper. “I never wanted to hurt you. I... I blamed you for my unhappiness because, at the time, it was easier than admitting something was wrong with me.”

I’ve barely gotten the words out when he says, “There’s nothing wrong with you.” He reaches up and tenderly tucks a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. “Nothing. You’re going through something, but it’s not ‘wrong,’ it’s just something.”

Intensity surrounds the air around us, and I feel a need to divert the topic a little. I force a chuckle. “Well, that’s kind of you to say, but I’m aware there are some things wrong with me. And there were deeper emotional issues going on with me than us struggling in our marriage.”

“I’ve never understood how you don’t know you’re the most beautiful woman in every room you’re in. The fact that I didn’t do everything in my power to make sure you remembered that…” He pauses and looks over to the side for a moment. I notice he’s rubbing his hand at the base of his thumb like he does sometimes. Then he clears his throat and returns his gaze to mine. “It’ll take a long time to forgive myself for it.”

He reaches up and brushes my hair off my forehead, his fingers barely touching me. Neither of us says anything for several long seconds.

“We stopped meeting for drinks. When we were together, I mean.” I practically whisper the words.

Troy looks at me and slowly nods. “We did. It was a mistake.”

“It was,” I agree. “That was our time, and it may have seemed like a little thing to others, but I loved it. I loved that it was us. That we had our special toast.” My voice is hushed, and I’m fighting back the moisture behind my eyes, so I lean my head back on his couch and close my eyes.

Troy’s large hand wrapping around mine causes me to open my eyes and tilt my head toward him. He’s watching me.

“I loved it, too.”

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