The whiskey burned her throat, the liquid preventing her from speaking, from saying too much.
How were they here again? Hurting each other for the sake of surviving seemed no way to build a life, to create a foundation for marriage.
They both said nothing. The couch found them at the same time, thighs brushing, but still no words.
She took another sip, drowning another question that threatened to fall from her lips. She blamed herself and she blamed him; for knowing her too well, for loving her too much. He would sacrifice everything for her. He even sacrificed communication with his mother and daughter for six weeks because of her. He said he would walk into a tornado for her and essentially, he had.
He reached out, his cup in hand, exchanging glances with her. His face read fear. She wondered of his fear. Was he scared for her? That she would fall down the rabbit hole again? But as she looked deeper in his eyes, she saw a different fear. Was he scared she wouldn't forgive him? Oh no…no Rick. This amazing, wonderful man would go to the ends of the earth for her. She couldn't let him believe…
Kate grabbed his hand, entangling their fingers and took another sip of her drink. As she tightened his hand, she heard him breathe out, as if the first wave of fear had fallen from his frame.
She drank. Silence enveloped them. This was all they had for now.
…
He watched his wife, a thousand thoughts threatening to pour from his mouth. He couldn't quench the fear that the knowledge of his missing time would propel her to the rabbit hole, or worse, to an entire life away from him. He wanted answers, he wanted forgiveness. But he couldn't push, she had made that clear.
So he drank. The liquid burned in his throat, providing a temporary numbing of his fears. Something that he needed as he let his mind wander with the possibilities of where they go from here.
Should he suggest counseling? In a year of marriage they had hurt one another so much. He shook his head as the realization hit him that the hurt happened even before the marriage. His disappearance was when it began. He fell down the rabbit hole so that she wouldn't. Then they married, the hurt of being left at the altar never fully leaving his wife's eyes.
Even so, they were fighters. They could work through everything that had torn them up and come back stronger on the other end. Their marriage could be pieced together from the wreckage of their individual pursuits. If they could just be honest, work as one unit, he knew that he would love his wife even more on the other side of this than he did on the day he said, "I do."
But he knew she needed time. Where he wanted to hash everything out, she needed to process things quietly. He put his cup out, silently asking for more scotch. She looked at him, what he thought was regret traveled through her features.
He panicked. Was she regretting them? Their lives together? Their marriage? She briefly shook her head and put the bottle down. She pulled his hand into her lap, entwining their fingers. He breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever her thought process, this told him that she loved him. That whatever she decided, them being together was as important to her as it was to him. But she was still processing the lies that had caused wreckage in their marriage. She wasn't ready to talk.
So for now they drank.