Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Unlike you, right? You, who couldn’t be bothered to tell me you were unhappy with your job.”
He gets to his feet, whiskey-brown eyes narrowing. “What do you want to hear? That I’ve barely got anything to do at the bars? That they run themselves and I’m bored shitless?” His jaw tightens. “I collect the checks, yeah, but I feel useless.”
“And you should’ve told me all that months ago,” I say, my tone a tad sharper than I intend.
“Well, I’m telling you now. I’m dying of boredom, but I don’t say anything because I’m trying not to put more pressure on you.”
“So now it’s my fault you’re miserable?”
“Is there a draft in here?” he says with bitter sarcasm. “Where are you hearing this, because those aren’t my words.”
“Whatever. I guess it’s all in my head, right?”
I go upstairs, which effectively tables the discussion. But the can of worms we’ve opened can’t be unopened. We only skirted around the issue, dipped our toes in a pool of resentment I hadn’t realized was there.
It’s only later, once the sun’s gone down, that shit gets real. We decide to take a walk on the beach, because we’re both going stir crazy and neither of us want to admit what’s been coming since we woke up cranky this morning. The lid rattling on the boiling pot, water threatening to spill over the edge.
“I mean it,” I say while staring straight ahead. “Let’s just change our tickets and fly home early. If we’re just going to sit around the house, we might as well do it at home with our daughter.”
The moon is bright and full over our heads. The sun, having just dipped below the horizon, finally giving way to a cool breeze to offer some relief from the thick humidity and our throbbing sunburns.
“Christ, Sabrina, just once can you make us a priority?”
I stop in my tracks, spinning to face him. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. School, work, Jamie, even a goddamn last will and testament takes precedence over me. Somehow, I always fuckin’ end up at the bottom of your priority list. Do you remember why we came here?” Tucker huffs an angry breath. “It was to get some time together. I never see you at home. We can’t get five minutes alone. And that’s not gonna get any better once you accept that stupid ninety-hour-a-week job.”
“Oh, so that’s how you really feel, huh? You were the one telling me to take the offer from the bigger firm.”
“Because I know it’s what you really want,” he snaps back, raising his voice.
“So you lied.”
“Give me a break, Sabrina.” He drags his hands through his hair, yanking. As if I’m not justified in my frustration. “You’d hate practicing civil law. It’d bore you silly.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
I almost scream. “Oh my God. Stop being Mr. Agreeable and all supportive and, like, Don’t worry, darlin’, you do whatever you need to do and I’ll be A-okay over here. Just one fucking time, why don’t you tell me what you want?”
Exasperation floods his expression. “I want to have my wife home more than a couple hours a day!”
I rear back, stunned.
Tucker looks equally startled by his uncharacteristic outburst. He draws a breath, his arms dropping to his sides. “But I bite my tongue because I want to support you, no matter what you choose.”
“Is this about Tucker’s Bar? Do you think me taking this job means you’re, what, stuck there?”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do about the bar. I care that you’re happy.”
“How am I supposed to be happy if you’re pissed off at me all the time?”
I’m not interested in one of those resentful marriages where we’re both suffering in silence, enslaved by our choices until we grow to hate each other. I certainly don’t want that for Jamie.
“How am I the bad guy for trying to be supportive?”
“Being passive-aggressive doesn’t feel supportive.” My frustration reaches sky-high levels. “And what the hell am I supposed to do if you’re not being honest with me? You encourage me to prioritize everything but you, and then get mad at me when I take you at your word? How is that fair? I need to be able to trust what you’re telling me, damn it.”
“Fine.” Tucker throws his hands up and turns away. “I give up.”
“Where are you going?” Gaping, I watch him stomp in the direction of the house.
“Into town for a drink,” he barks over his shoulder. “I’m taking the Jeep.”
Of course. This disaster of a honeymoon wouldn’t be complete without a fight erupting into a major tantrum. Tucker leaves me there with the waves and moonlight. Sand between my toes. It’s at least the prettiest place I’ve ever been abandoned.
“Lover’s quarrel?”
I’m startled when Kevin and Bruce emerge from a nearby cluster of palms, approaching with a flashlight.