Page 5 of The Next Of Us
A surge of anger resurfaced.It wasn’t like I hadn’t asked, repeatedly, what was going on with him.He’d yet to give me an answer that rang with any kind of truth.
We argued, I pushed, he withdrew, and I begged to no avail.
And so it went.
On repeat.
For months.
A year ago, I would have pushed.Now?Half the time I didn’t know if I was coming or going.I showed up for appointments I didn’t have and missed the ones I did.
Twice I’d stood up Harley, my pseudo-mom, forgetting we had plans.
Harley ran the Sage Ridge Resort and had taken Aaron under her wing when he and I were first starting out.She’d stuck close to us both ever since.
Pregnant at the same time, we’d raised our kids together.With Harley I could open up in a way I never could with my own mother.She was my older, wiser sister and my best friend.
And I had sorely needed to talk.
Wren was always available for me as well, but she was first and foremost, Aaron’s mother.
On top of my newfound forgetfulness, my body threatened me with period pains a few days every couple of weeks but produced no period.
And that wasn’t all.
My poor coochie was as dry as the Atacama Desert, my freaking nipples were shrinking, my sex drive was in the toilet, and I’d packed on at least ten pounds.
And the crying.God, the crying.My freaking eyelids were chapped.
So, no.I didn’t have it in me to push.
Snagging my cell phone, I tapped out a text with trembling fingers.It seemed this was the only way we talked now.
Me: Are you okay?
Three dots danced across the screen.I stared at them, willing him to answer.Finally, when I’d been about to give up hope, his text came through.
Aaron: I’m sorry I stayed so late.I’ll make it up to you.
Make it up to me?
Was that supposed to be a comfort?Was I the only one missingus?
I contemplated texting him back and demanding an explanation, but my early conditioning, growing up with parents who were loving but strict in a way that allowed no room for disagreement, kicked in.
With Aaron as attentive as he was, I’d gotten better at making myself heard over the years.
Now I knew that confidence was a fallacy and falsely based on Aaron’s willingness to listen instead of my own certainty that I deserved to be heard.
My hands shook as I wound the whisper soft cashmere scarf Aaron bought me for my last birthday around my neck.Every year he loved to surprise me with something decadent and far outside the budget I set for my own spending.
Not that I expected or even wanted it, but he insisted I deserved every good thing.
Would he even remember my birthday this year?
I pulled on my boots and coat and trudged through the snow that blanketed the long driveway Aaron had neglected to clear.It matched the road the snowplow hadn’t yet reached.
That was maybe the only drawback to living on a large property on a quiet street in Little River.
