Page 9 of Convincing Carrie
That stung. It wasn’t so much that I wanted him to love tubing down the Indigo. It was that I was starting to feel as if he wasn’t enjoyinganythingabout our life right now.
I noticed my friends looking back at us, and I tried to smile. I knew they could tell something was going on between Thatcher and me, but I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.
“Fine. I get it. I won’t expect you to do this anymore, okay? I just thought you’d enjoy it. You’ve been so busy lately, and I feel like we haven’t spent much time together…”
He was looking at his watch, a waterproof Patek Phillipe. He cut me off, and I wasn’t even sure he’d heard what I had said. “Carrie, I’m sorry but something’s come up at the office.” He dropped my hand, gave me a quick smile, and started to float towards the side to get out of the river. He turned back to me. “Can you get a ride with one of your friends?”
My face had turned red with embarrassment and anger. He’d said ‘your’ friends as if he hadn’t hung out with these people for the past five years. And he’d essentially walked off in the middle of a conversation as if I didn’t matter at all.
I looked at Thatcher. Really studied him. What I saw made me sad, like something was slipping away faster than I could reach for it and make it stay. He used to love the activities I introduced him to—river rafting, biking along long, winding trails that led us through forests and past rivers, kayaking while we talked about the wildlife on the shore. It got him out of the urban environment he’d grown up in, released him from the obligations of being a Caldwell. His only real fun before he’d met me had come from glittering parties where people danced until dawn but said vicious things behind your back while smiling to your face. He hadn’t been used to the simplicity of the outdoors like I was. But he’d come to love the change of pace.
He didn’t love it anymore. He made it seem juvenile and pointless, like he was wasting his time. He pushed his sunglasses on top of his head. I watched the half smile on his face while he stood on the riverbank and read his ‘work’ texts. He looked up and met my eyes suddenly, and I saw a flash of something thatlooked a lot like guilt. Then he smiled, and it was like a shutter came down over his face. It seemed like he was wearing a mask, carefully concealing whatever he was hiding from me.
I was coming to fear something else. I was starting to think his love for me had just been a fascination with what was new and completely different from what he was used to. What if that fascination had turned into something else? Something a lot like contempt?
And what if the very things that had made him choose me, love me, had worn away?
I watched him walk off with a sinking feeling in my stomach. I turned away and saw that all my friends were watching me. They felt it, too. They were worried about my marriage. About me. I forced a smile.
“Y’all ready to finish the river?” I asked in a cheery voice. I wasn’t going to let what was happening between Thatcher and me ruin the day. Not when it had been ages since we’d been able to get together and do this. They all smiled back, relieved, and we enjoyed the rest of the long, lazy trip down the river. We laughed, talked, and relaxed together.
But there was something slightly different, slightly off about the whole day. And I knew that something was Thatcher.
CHAPTER FIVE
Thatcher
I rubbed the back of my neck. I was starting to sweat a little. I was watching Madison again as she worked. I was well on my way to being as obsessed with her as I’d been before.
Or maybe I was already there.
It seemed that if I wasn’t actively working on something for Caldwell Financial, my mind wandered directly to Mads. I needed to be around her. I needed to see her. I needed to text her.
And it was worse than that.
I wanted to kiss her, to hold her… to fuck her.
I closed my eyes and blew out a deep breath, trying to talk myself down from those thoughts. I tried to remind myself of how much I loved Carrie.
And how much I loved sex with Carrie. She was more responsive and wilder than anyone I’d ever been with. Including Madison.
So why the hell couldn’t I get my mind off Mads?
When the shoot was over, Madison approached me. “Thatcher, take me to lunch.”
I smiled. “Where do you want to go?”
“La Maison. It’s this new French place in Buckhead I’ve been dying to try.”
A wave of guilt passed over me. How long ago had Carrie asked me to take her there? It had been months now. I’d forgotten all about it. I should tell Madison no. I should take my wife there, not Madison.
But what I actually said? “Sure.”
Before long we were seated in the airy, pleasant restaurant.
“You did what?” Madison looked both horrified and amused.
“I went tubing down a river,” I repeated.
