Page 14 of The Write Choice

He’s quiet for a long moment, which is usually his tell for when he’s formulating something to say. His gray eyes slide to me, then back to the road. “Why was Katie alone downtown with the kids in the middle of the holiday rush?”

“I had to finish packing up my office,” I say, but even I know better than to believe that entirely.

Sure enough, Daniel shoots me a skeptical look. “You’ve known about this move for months, and you had to pack up your office a few days ago instead of helping your wife do your holiday tradition stuff with the kids downtown?”

I frown. “When you put it that way, I sound like an asshole.”

Daniel shrugs. “If the shoe fits.”

“You know, it’s really good to see you, man. I love having my balls busted by my best friend and my wife at the same time.” I fold my arms across my chest and stare out the passenger-side window. The trees and grass fly by us as we speed down the highway. There are no hills to speak of. Illinois is so flat.

Daniel chuckles. “I’m going to go ahead and guess that you brought up what she said when she was drunk that night and bailed.”

“That is not at all what happened.” I eye him sidelong. “I had been avoiding her in order to not bring up that night because I thought it would make things worse.”

“And then you brought it up anyway?”

“It slipped out.”

“Did it make things worse?”

I dip my chin and glare at him. When he doesn’t respond or take his eyes off the road, I purse my lips. “I don’t know. The kids started antagonizing each other, and I left. I did really have to pack up the office,” I say quickly before he can give me any more shit. “But I saw her face, and it looked like she felt just as bad about the whole thing as I did. That was not the face of a woman who is going to start drinking again.”

“But you thought she might, and she let it slip that New York isn’t as great for her as it once was. Which was why you ultimately decided to make the move out here.”

I sigh deeply. “Yep.” I pause, then decide to continue. “She told me once, about a year ago, that she had considered drinking again. That she wanted to because of all the stress and boredom. She started seeing her therapist more often, which seemed to help.”

“Until she came home drunk,” Daniel says pointedly.

“Until she came home drunk,” I confirm.

We sit in silence for a while, the sound of the cars around us on the road the only noise between us. Eventually, Daniel signals to exit the highway. When he slows to a stop at the light, he turns a bit in his seat to look at me. “If you think you made a mistake, then why are you here?”

I take a deep breath, staring at an oak tree that has twisted itself around some power lines. “The night she came home drunk, she cried. I held her all night and she just cried and cried.” I rub my fingers over my temple, the memory of that night bubbling up, clear as day. The sobs wracked her body as I held her in our bed, not knowing what else to do. “She’s the most stoic person I know, Daniel. I don’t think that woman even shed a tear when she was in labor. Either time.”

“You cried, though,” Daniel snickers as he hits the gas when the light turns green.

“I sure fucking did. Even if her vice grip hadn’t almost broken a few bones in my hand, those babies brought me to my knees.” I flex my hand at the memory. “You did too, you asshole.”

“Yeah, but I’m the brooding, emotional writer. I’m supposed to cry.” He smirks, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

I chuckle lightly, then my face falls. “But that night broke something in her. I saw it. I saw that little extra piece of emptiness in her eyes the next morning. I figured she meant what she said, and I made the decision. It was supposed to be a happy surprise.”

“And you didn’t think that the stress of the move might have the opposite effect from what you intended?”

“I did,” I answer immediately. “I absolutely did. But it felt worth the risk.” I look at him out of the corner of my eye. “We don’t have anyone out there anymore. My parents are in Chicago, you’re here, my college friends are spread across the country, all the other guys we went to high school with moved out of the city…” I trail off and shrug.

“Have you heard from Shane?” It would make sense that I’d be able to lean on my older brother, but Daniel knows better than that. Shane has been in and out of rehab for the past ten years. I don’t even know where he’s living right now. Daniel’s probably trying to gently lead me to some connection between my past with Shane and my present with Katie. But, joke’s on him, because I’ve already been over this a million times.

“No,” I say simply.

Thankfully, Daniel drops it. He pulls up to the curb of my new house and puts his car in park. “We’re here for you, Brandon. Whatever you need, Mac and I want to help.”

I look out at the house. It’s a sprawling, cream-colored house with a three-car garage and a manicured front lawn. A fence surrounds the back yard, and deep green shutters line the second-story bedroom windows. It should look cheerful and suburban, but instead it looks dark and empty, even from the outside. Not for the first time today, a pang of loneliness hits me square in the chest. Loneliness and overwhelm. I suddenly realize how much work there is to do to get the house ready for Katie and the kids, and I want it to be perfect when they arrive. I need to impress Katie with this, and hopefully earn my way out of the guest room.

“I need to get her back,” I say quietly. I know, technically, she’s not gone, but she might as well be. I look at Daniel, his steely eyes already on me and his brow furrowed slightly. I swallow heavily. “I have this feeling of dread. Every morning I wake up with it, and every night I fall asleep with it. She threatened to leave me.” I have to fight for my voice not to break, and I almost lose.

“Do you think she really would?” Daniel asks.