3
"So, that was awkward," I say as I crawl into bed next to Jared.
He's on his phone, responding to an email. "What was?" he asks, typing away.
I rub lotion on my arms. "Edward and Gianna arguing like that."
"Oh. I guess."
"You didn't think so?" I push.
"I don't know. I'm not trying to get in the middle of it," Jared says absently.
"I'm not either. I just thought it was strange, is all. They don't really bicker like that in front of us."
"Hmm."
I can tell he's not really listening, and he doesn't want to talk about this anymore. I don't even know why I want to dissect it, really. It's not like it was a huge blow-up fight or anything, but still.
I know no marriage is perfect, but I never really got the vibe that Edward and Gianna had any problems whatsoever. Both are generally mild-mannered. They're also not grotesquely affectionate with one another in public. They're the type of easygoing couple who can fit in with anyone.
That's not to say they blend in, though. They stand out. They're both striking in their looks. Gianna, with her glossy dark hair, olive skin, and slender figure. Edward with his… well, everything, I guess. His sharp jaw. His intense, green eyes. His hair is a wreck most days, but it works well. Doesn't matter if he's going to the store or attending an event, his hair is chaotic, but it's him.
If I'm being honest, there's been an attraction there since day one. I'd have to be blind to not admit that. The attraction for him doesn't just stop at his looks, though. He's dynamic. Funny. He's rugged but in an understated way. He's genuine and a talented author. A good father and a—
Loving husband.
He's someone else's husband, and that alone should end all of my thoughts about Edward.
But I'm human.
And Edward is too goddamn handsome for me not to notice.
"Did you talk to the doctor today about getting your IUD removed?" Jared asks, eyes still on his screen.
I push away guilt for thinking about another man in our bed and reason with myself that it wasn't like that.
"No, I didn't," I tell Jared after what feels like too long.
This makes him look over at me finally. "Why not?"
"Because I'm not ready yet."
Holding my gaze he says, "Last time we talked, you said soon."
The last time this conversation came up was six months ago after we had too many drinks at a friend's wedding. Mikey was spending the night with Jared's parents, so we opened a bottle of wine when we got home. And then another. By the last glass, Jared drunkenly suggested we have another baby. He was being sentimental, and he was acting like the Jared I first started dating. Just hopeful and sweet and present. Different.
But that version of Jared no longer truly exists. He's grown. Evolved. The one I've come to know for over five years now is focused and determined and has an amazing work ethic. Those really aren't negative attributes. But certain characteristics he has, and values so much, make me feel lonely sometimes.
He knows this. I've told him. But he chooses his career over me most days, and I've learned to just deal with it because as my mother says—he's providing for us. So I'm supposed to be happy.
I provide for our family, too, though. I sell multi-million-dollar homes. I work my ass off but I don't get to as often because Jared's career comes first. It always has.
My mom's way of thinking is skewed and antiquated because my father left us when I was ten. He didn't just leave her but me, too. I was lucky if I got to see him a handful of times a year.
So my mother tells me not to nag. To keep the peace. Be grateful. She reminds me to do the opposite of what she did, so I can keep my family together.
I think of Edward's character Holden.
He's happy, just doesn't feel heard or seen, I guess.
I feel that to my core.
The very first time Jared mentioned wanting another child, I told him no. I told him the truth. That doing almost everything on my own was hard. He dismissed me with a laugh and said I'd change my mind. My mother says it to me all the time, too. But it's been two years, and I haven't budged on the idea.
When Jared brought it up that one drunken night, I stalled like I always do. I never outright say no anymore because it's not like he believes me, anyway. I just talk around the situation and throw out false reasoning. Maybe next year. Maybe when Mikey's no longer a baby. A toddler. Maybe when Mikey starts preschool. But year after year, every excuse I make comes and goes, and I'm quickly running out of them.
The fact of the matter is: I wouldn't mind another child, I just don't want one with my husband.
And that truth hurts.
It hurts me.
It would hurt him.
You can't tell someone that and move forward without it changing your relationship.
I don't want another child with Jared because he's a less-than-present father. An unavailable husband. Some days we are okay, but most days it feels like we're barely hanging on. I worry about what another child would do to us.
So, no, I don't want another kid.
But instead of telling my husband this, I do what I always do.
I stall.
I make excuses.
And I buy myself another six months.
XXX
I'm unloading my trunk with groceries when Edward walks over.
"Hey. Need a hand?" he politely asks.
"It's okay," I insist, but he grabs the last four bags anyway and follows me inside the house.
"Thanks," I tell him once we're in the kitchen. I open the fridge to put away the cold items first.
"You're all done up," he remarks.
I guess I am. Cream silk blouse. High-waisted black slacks. I even spent a little extra time on my makeup because I could.
"I had to meet some clients earlier," I tell Edward. One of the downsides of my job is that Saturdays aren't for lounging. But that's fine because I enjoy staying busy.
He looks away. "Gotcha. Where's Mikey?"
"With my mom until tomorrow." Jared's parents were busy, but thankfully, my mom was available. She decided to turn it into a whole day—visiting the zoo, the park, and having a sleepover.
"And Jared?"
"He's at the office." I don't know why Edward even has to ask. I shut the fridge and grab another bag. "So, how's it going?"
"It's going," he says vaguely. "I'm, uh… I'm sorry about last night. Storming out like that at dinner. I wasn't trying to make shit awkward for you and Jared."
He came back inside shortly after but just put his beer in the recycling, said thanks for dinner, and carried a sleeping Seth home. Gianna stayed behind to help clean up, even though I told her she didn't have to. I think she was stalling.
"Hey, it's all good. You don't owe me an apology," I reassure him. He doesn't really owe Gianna one, either, but I keep that to myself.
"I just… yeah." He frowns, maybe holding his words hostage, too.
I dig through a sack, then open some chips, eating a couple. I hold the bag out to him, and he takes some, too.
"I read a bit more last night." It's an understatement. I stayed up until two in the morning, reading his manuscript. But I downplay my progress. I don't want to seem too eager. Maybe I don't want to show obvious interest when his own wife doesn't. I don't want to make her look bad in comparison.
"Yeah?" He smiles. "Still digging it?"
"Definitely. I'm just past the part when Holden meets Lola," I tell him, and his eyebrows raise.
"Oh, wow," he says, looking genuinely impressed. "You're that far into it."
I eat another chip. "It's not that far into the book."
"I mean, the entire novel is around a hundred thousand words, so you're a third of the way through it," he points out. "So, yeah, that's pretty impressive especially since I just gave it to you yesterday."
"Well… it was hard to stop," I admit. "I like Lola. She's refreshing. No nonsense. Honest, and her humor fits with his."
Edward looks amused. "Yeah, she's been interesting to write."
"I like that they have an instant connection. But it's not insta-love, you know? It's subtle, but it's there."
He watches my face. "Yeah, it is."
"So, does he end up with her? Does he leave his other life behind?"
Edward smirks. "I'm not telling you that."
"Fine. I didn't really want to know, anyway. I mean, I do, but I'll keep reading."
"Don't you dare skip ahead," he warns, that smug smile still there.
I scoff. "I wouldn't!"
"You did with that other book you were reading a few months ago," he reminds me, and I'm surprised he remembers that. "The crime one?"
"Sometimes I don't want to wait to know how things are going to turn out," I say, shrugging.
"Yeah, but then you miss all the good stuff in between," he says softly.
My eyes bounce to his lips. I don't know why—they just do. His voice dropped an octave, so naturally, my mind shifted toward his mouth, and my stupid brain made me look.
"Knowing the ending doesn't take anything away for me," I insist, tucking hair behind my ear, suddenly feeling shy or nervous or something. "It doesn't make the story any less satisfying."
He licks his lips.
Unfortunately, I'm still staring.
"Don't cheat," he murmurs, staying serious. "Don't skip ahead."
"Fine." I roll my eyes, so I'll stop looking at him. "I won't."
"Promise me."
My heart picks up a little. "You don't trust me?" I taunt, forcing a laugh and trying to lighten this moment.
He swallows. "I do. You're one of the people I trust the most, I think."
I'm flattered, but I don't tell him this. I also don't tell him that I feel the same way about him. He's genuine. Kind-hearted. A great friend.
But sometimes the awareness I have for him feels like more.
And it's scary.
Exciting.
Dangerous.
"You don't have to say that," I tell him as I finish putting the groceries away.
"I know I don't. But it's true, so."
My stomach flutters, but I feel anxious.
"So, what do y'all have planned for tonight?" I ask, desperately needing to change the subject.
"Gi's going to dinner with some girlfriends."
"Fun. Where?"
"Probably somewhere expensive," he laughs. "What about you guys?"
"Jared and I were going to go to dinner, but I have a strong feeling he's going to cancel. That's fine because I have some reading I want to do," I say, smiling.
"Ah." Edward scratches the back of his neck. "If he cancels, feel free to come over."
"Oh, it's fine. I appreciate the pity invite, though."
He laughs. "Hanging out with you is never out of pity, Bella."
"Oh, it's not?" I joke. "Then what is it out of?" Knowing him, I'm pretty sure he's about to joke and say convenience since we live next door.
With his gaze locked on mine, he surprises me and says, "I don't think I should answer that."
"Why not?" I ask, against my better judgment.
He doesn't reply. He just shakes his head, his eyes almost pleading with me to leave the words unspoken.
Without an explanation, I'm left to decipher his silence however I want.
Don't ask.
Don't make me say it.
Don't ruin this.
So, I don't.