Page 132 of My Wife
After we do KJ’s bedtime routine which includes me reading a bonus book since I was gone at the game, Jessica finds me in the kitchen, adjusting the loose hand towel holder.
“What’s gotten into you? You’re being so domestic.”
“I’d been meaning to fix this for a while.”
She snaps her fingers. “Put a ring on his finger and just like that, the feral animal is tamed.”
I scoff.
She watches me for a long moment and then says, “Thanks for fixing the table leg and my legal situation with the Coogans.”
“We’re not there yet.” I can’t fix that in an afternoon.
But Jessica and I are married now and I don’t want anything in her life to be broken. Not staplers, not cars, and certainly not relationships.
The screwdriver slides from my grip.
“Are you okay?”
I brush my hand through my hair.
No, I’m not.
Because the biggest thing broken in her life is … me.
“Uh, I should go to bed. Another game coming up. Training. Sleep,” I mumble and disappear into my room.
Our room?
Leaning against the back of the door, I hear the sound of Jessica doing what she calls her good night tidy to the kitchen, her feet padding down the hall, and then the spare bedroom door opening.
Not only am I the worst human. I’m the worst husband. I don’t even know if that bed is made. Is there furniture in there? I’ve only been in the second guest bedroom twice—once when I toured the loft to move in and the second time when KJ arrived and I needed to figure out where he’d sleep.
Turns out, I cannot. I toss and turn, my thoughts alternately hopeful and dismal. It’s a dark night until the sound of footfalls pass my door and a dim light appears from the kitchen.
Jessica has insomnia. Of course, she’s awake.
I hesitate, not sure what I’ll say or do. I’m usually dreaming during these long hours. She should be too, so why isn’t she?
35
LIAM
The soundof Jessica settling onto the couch reaches my ears. I have a two-second argument with myself before dragging my tired butt to the living room. “Hey,” I whisper slowly.
“Hey,” she replies.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“I mentioned I have insomnia, but now that we live together, I hope it doesn’t disturb you. I try to be very quiet.”
“Is it contagious?”
In the dim light, I can see her face screw up. “No, of course not.”
“What causes it?”
Jessica shrugs. “Stress. Hormones. There can be lots of reasons.”
