Chapter 1.
"I've got a surprise for you," Duncan beams, tapping my nose with the tip of his finger.
There is a spring in his step as he heads for the kitchen and resumes peeling potatoes.
"Oh Goodie, you know how much I love surprises," I deadpan, rolling my eyes. Surprises were at the bottom of my favorites list, Duncan's surprises were notorious. Notoriously bad.
I save the document on my laptop, clip it shut, and rise from the couch.
My bare feet pad across the hot floorboards.
"Okay, spill," I glare at him.
"Nope," Duncan grins, focusing on the potatoes
I lean against the pantry door. Waiting. Feet tapping.
"You can groan all you want Veronica Kane. I'm not going to tell you."
I shrug, open the fridge and pull out a bottle of Pino Gris. The bottle is lovely and icy, dripping condensation over my fingers. I run my wet fingers over my neck, pour a large glass and take a delicious sip.
The cool air had been on the fritz for days, getting warmer and warmer until with a grumble and some taps, it finally died, right in the middle of summer. The 'guy' was under the pump; he couldn't get here for at least a week. The house felt like a sauna. I reach for the windows to see if they would wind out any further, trying desperately to get some air-flow through our apartment.
"It's not that bad, we've got ice, we've got friends, we'll sit on the balcony. Once the sun goes down, it will cool off," Duncan was chipper for a Friday.
I collect the plates and head for the Balcony, setting the places.
I sit with my feet on the chair beside me, wine in hand laughing with Mac.
Wallace's kids Andy and Lexie are playing under the table with the box of toys I'd brought them from the spare room.
"I swear to God, Veronica, I'm going to kill his mother," Mac whispers kill so the kids didn't hear.
"If she comes into my house again and secretly cleans while babysitting I don't know what I'm going to do. I found my plastics drawer the other day completely rearranged. She'd taken out each one RE-CLEANED it and then put it back, in perfectly fucked up little piles," covering her mouth when she realizes she forgot to whisper the 'fuck'.
I snort.
"Yeah, yeah. I've got two words for you... Celeste Kane," I put my feet onto the table and cross them, asking for a challenge.
Mac grimaces.
"Okay," her hands up in the air, "You win."
Celeste was the winner of every worst mother-in-law competition there ever was. No contest. We'd managed to be married for nearly five years and only sight her on significant holidays, thankfully. I was a constant disappointment. I was from the wrong side of town, couldn't cook, wasn't an excellent cleaner and couldn't produce longed-for Grandchildren.
She relished poking her fingers into the open wound, twisting.
Duncan, Wallace, and Bianca, Wallace's wife chat in the kitchen while Duncan stirs pots, chops tiny vegetables, wipes benches and Jamie Olivered' dinner with his usual flair. Duncan was many things, but he was always the host with the most. He loved any opportunity to have friends around, show off his developing cooking skills and the chance to relax and drink with friends. He loved to play happy family. Smile. Show off. He was the perfect husband. Wasn't he?
I certainly was far from the perfect wife.
When he was home, he cooked mostly extravagant meals. Lobster, homemade egg pasta with truffle oil, duck in a myriad of ways. When he was away, I barely could be bothered to cook the toast before eating it. I was known at times to stand in the kitchen and eat dry ramen over the sink to catch the crumbs, with wine. Always with wine.
"Has he been home more lately?" Mac questions, tilting her head, watching me.
"No, not really, with the election in 3 months he's in the office until at least ten most nights. Sometimes he doesn't come home at all and sleeps there. Not that I mind, more room in the bed," I shrug.
Mac gives me a sideways glance.
"Really, it's all good," I reassure her. Pouring us another wine. "Don't look at me like that!"
"Uh Huh," she nods
Duncan had been running for re-election as Mayor. After finishing his first term as the youngest Mayor in Neptune, he'd been working hard on 'cleaning up the city' and doing very well at it. The Kane name had bolstered his reputation and meant he was a shoo-in for his first term. He thrived on it, the power, the responsibility and dove headfirst into being everything the town needed him to be. He was the master of being precisely what other people wanted him to be.
"Okay, so who is the mystery guest?" Mac queries, eyebrows raised.
"No clue, he won't tell me. He's running around like its Santa Claus," the kids pop their heads out from under the table looking excitedly at me.
"Sorry kiddos, don't think Santa will be coming here for dinner tonight," I grin. "But, who knows what Uncle Duncan has in store?"
The kids duck back under the table.
Mac looks at me. Into me.
"Any news?" she is tentative.
I breathe out slowly.
"Got my period yesterday," I mutter quietly, peering through the glass panels to watch Duncan in the kitchen.
Sadness fills Mac's eyes; she reaches her hand out onto mine and squeezes it. I know she wants to hug me but doesn't want to make a scene.
I blink quickly. Clearing the sudden welling in my eyes.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I'm okay. I'm just… done, I just … " I can't finish the sentence and look out to the ocean. The spectacular balmy night, sun starting to dip towards the water.
It had been our 4th IVF round. Unsuccessful.
Three years of this. Yearning, aching, desperate to have a child. All for nothing.
Disappointment envelopes me. Warms me like a blanket. I'm used to it now.
I'd never really been that bothered about kids, especially in my 20s. It just seemed like a future that I couldn't envision for myself. Then suddenly, 31 hit. And it hit me like a freight train: the need, the deep need to have a child.
Duncan leapt at the idea. Of course! A mayor with a little family, he could see it instantly. But after a year of trying, suddenly it wasn't so fun anymore. It was appointments, and injections, and mood swings and pressure. Constant worry. Financial worry. Sex wasn't fun anymore. It was loaded. It became tainted with the pressure, the expectation.
We hadn't had sex in months. No surprises.
Combining being the new town mayor with the strains of trying for a family took its toll quickly. There was a need to show our faces at luncheons, dinner parties and openings. Duncan needed me to be there to support him. So that's what I did, at least at the start. Cracks had been starting to appear recently. I didn't have the energy most of the time to schmooze with the townsfolk so I'd become a bit of a mastermind of excuses.
Here we were, a perfect couple. Not a perfect family. It was eating at us.
Constantly gnawing.
"I suspect that's why he thought this impromptu dinner party was a good idea."
Mac nods.
"Distraction technique."
"Yep, just not sure if he's trying to distract himself or me? Both?" I shrug.
"Can we go out to lunch tomorrow? Talk alone?" Mac asks.
I nod. Yes, that would be a much better place to talk. Not that I had anything much left in me to talk about it anymore. I was tired of it all, so tired.
"Veronica," Duncan yells from the kitchen, "Where is the dressing for the salad?"
"In the fridge," I yell back.
"No, it's not!"
"Yes, it is!"
Mac smirks, knowing. She's married, she gets it.
"Let me look," interjects Wallace, always the peacekeeper. Sensing that I was not moving from my chair to come and search for said dressing, which I was certain was going to be in the fridge.
"Here it is," he passes it to Duncan as I watch through the glass. Duncan smiles at him but wouldn't turn to look at me.
Ahh, married life, such a wondrous land.
There is a knock at the door. Mac and I look at each other, eyebrows raised.
"I'll get it" Duncan sing-songs and heads to the door. Everyone exchanges questioning glances.
I had to admit, I was curious.
Duncan opens the door, and it takes a moment before I could see. He's hugging someone, and they're slapping each other on the back. He's tall, broad, hair cut short. And then I see it.
Clearly.
Logan Echolls.
Mac looks at me, eyes like saucers.
"Fuck."