The Escape Collection: (The Escape Collection) (44 page)

“Will you tuck me in, too?”

“You know I will, kiddo.” He ruffled her hair and they left. I took the plates to the counter and loaded them into the dishwasher. When I turned around to get the last piece of pizza after all, it and Jordan were gone.
 

I didn’t have a chance to talk to Jon again until after Kayla was in bed and Jordan was locked up in her room listening to music. I was stuffing ham and cheese sandwiches into baggies for the kids’ lunches when I heard him come in. I had my back to him and I wasn’t ready for him to slide up behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulled me close against him and nuzzled into my neck.
 

I jumped a bit, but didn’t pull away. He must have felt bad about his comment earlier. When his lips kissed the sensitive skin behind my ear, I couldn’t help the low sound that came from deep in my throat. He knew it was my sweet spot. I stretched my neck to the side a little, opening it up to him.
 

It had been a long time since we’d made love. Too long, I knew. And it wasn’t for lack of trying on Jon’s part. I felt bad about that, but even though I hated to, I kept making excuses. Even after fifteen years of marriage, Jon still looked great. He stayed in shape and took care of himself. It wasn’t him. I knew he wasn’t the problem.
 

“Come on, Becca.” His kisses moved lower. He pushed himself closer to me and started kissing the base of my neck again, this time working his way up to my earlobe where he bit down with just enough pressure, the way he knew I liked.
 

My body was winning the battle with my mind and I groaned a little more as it responded to his touch. I arched my neck further and this time he responded by spinning me around, pressing me back against the counter, and meeting my lips with his own. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d kissed more than a quick peck, and I let myself sink into it.
 

His mouth never left mine and his hands started exploring my body. It was like he couldn’t remember what I felt like. And to be honest, he probably couldn’t. His touch felt good. More than good.
 

I gripped his back in encouragement.
 

“Oh God, Becca, I want you so bad.”
 

And he did. I could feel his want.

My hands moved up his back and when they cupped the base of his neck, he let out his own moan and I pulled him close for a deeper kiss. His hands found their way under my t-shirt and tugged it over my head, breaking our lips apart momentarily. As if they had never left, his hands found me again, and this time shocked me with their chill on my bare skin. He didn’t waste any time unhooking my bra, leaving my breasts totally exposed.
 

I swallowed hard and tried to stay relaxed and go with the moment. I squeezed my eyes closed and tried not to think of the list of reasons we shouldn’t be doing this in the kitchen. Jordan could come in. Were the blinds open? Jon trailed kisses from my neck to my bare chest and his hands held me firm around the waist.

I felt him pull away and my eyes snapped open. He was staring at me. I was half naked in the kitchen and he’d stopped kissing me to stare at me.

“What?” I said.

“You’re beautiful.”
 

“Beautiful?” I swallowed hard. “Right.”
 

“You are.”

I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. He had no reason to lie, except to get lucky. His gaze made me uncomfortable. I was too exposed. When he didn’t say anything else, my arms flew up to my chest, trying in vain to cover my breasts and stomach at the same time.

“Don’t,” I muttered.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t tell me things you don’t mean.” I bent to retrieve my t-shirt off the floor.

“Becca.”
 

I turned my back to him and tugged the shirt over my head.

“Becca,” he said again and his hand reached out and spun me around to face him. “Look at me.”
 

I did. I looked up and met his eyes. I blinked hard. He might have thought I was going to cry. But he knew better. I looked away again.

“I do mean it,” he said softly. “You’re beautiful.”

“Stop it.”

“You are.”

“Stop it,” I said, louder this time. “Stop telling me things that aren’t true. You know they’re not true.” I wrenched my arm away from him. “I’m not the same person I used to be. I’m fat and ugly, and that’s the truth.”
 

As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I stopped. I didn’t really feel that way about myself. Did I?

“That’s enough,” he said and anger flared in his usually serene eyes. “I’m sick of you putting yourself down all the time. I think you’re as beautiful as the day I met you—more so. But that’s not enough for you. It’s never enough.”
 

I opened my mouth to say something, but closed it again. I didn’t know why I said those things. I watched as he refilled his wine glass, splashing liquid over the rim. I still couldn’t find any words. He took a few healthy swallows before turning back to me.

“Do you know how long it’s been since we’ve made love?” he asked.

I shook my head but wouldn’t meet his eyes. I knew.

“Six months, Becca. Six months.” He took another swallow of wine. “You’re always tired or not feeling well, or...or...unhappy with yourself, or some other excuse. I love you, dammit, but I’m getting fed up. I’ve tried my best to be understanding, really I have.”
 

I looked at my feet and traced the pattern of the floor tile with my toe.
 

“Is it me?” His voice dropped, the anger draining away as quickly as it came. “Don’t you find me attractive anymore? Is there someone else, Becca? Tell me.”
 

My head snapped up. “No,” I said. “God, no, Jon. Of course there’s nobody else. You can’t really think that.”

He shook his head and his shoulders fell. “Of course not, I just…” Jon put his glass down and wrapped me in his arms, holding me close. “I love you, Becca.” His voice was muffled in my hair and for a second I thought he might cry.
 

I let him hold me for a moment before I pulled back.
 

“I know you love me,” I said.

“Then what’s going on?”

“I told you.” I looked down again. His eyes were too full of emotion. I couldn’t tell him the real reason. That I was too tired. Too disgusted with myself, who I’d become. There was nothing sexy about my life and it was hard to get in the mood when the daily monotony wore me down. “I don’t like it when you say things you don’t mean,” I said. I knew it was a cop-out answer. And he knew it, too.

For a long moment he didn’t say anything. I lifted my gaze to find him glaring at me. It was definitely a glare. I’d never seen him look at me like that before.

“Jon?” My voice shook and I hated it.

When he finally spoke, his voice was tightly controlled, the anger barely contained. “I don't say things I think you want to hear. I never say anything I don't mean. If you don't believe me...well, I don't know anymore how to make you see what I see. I don't know how much I can take, Becca. I don't know what else to do.”
 

I opened my mouth to tell him I loved him and I did find him attractive. I opened my mouth because I was going to tell him that I was sorry and I was being stupid and insecure and it wasn’t him,—it was me and my life. But when I opened my mouth, my throat tightened. Nothing came out.

He stood, waiting, and when I didn’t say anything he said, “Forget it.”
 

When he turned, I let my hand reach out as if to grab him and turn him around again.
 

“I’m going to bed,” he said.
 

I let my hand drop as he walked away.

Chapter 4

9:00 a.m. It must have been a record. I’d managed to get the kids to school without any tantrums or major embarrassing moments. Jon had left before I’d even gotten out of bed, but it was probably better that way.
 

I refused to dwell on what happened. There was no point. I don’t think I’d ever seen Jon so angry, but if I ignored it, maybe things would go back to normal.
 

Whatever normal was.
 

I flicked the switch on the new coffee pot and sat down with the paper. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d read it. I usually threw it into the recycling bin as I walked to the car. There was never any time to catch up on world news, even if I’d wanted to.
 

Flipping through the sections, I realized I didn’t want to. Between the natural disasters and countries fighting amongst themselves, there was really nothing worth reading about. I grabbed the travel section. There was a story featuring the Swiss Alps on the cover. The mountain peaks surrounding the green, lush fields were gorgeous. The story that went with the pictures talked about a hiking holiday.

Hiking? If I was in the Swiss Alps, I think I might just like to sit and look at the view. Forget hiking.

I turned the pages without really looking at them. The breakfast dishes were still piled in the sink and the vacuum stood in the middle of the living room floor, where I’d left it yesterday. I needed to make a trip to the grocery store. I flipped to the entertainment section.
 

A few more pages and then I’d decide what to do.

As it turned out, I didn’t have to make a decision. The doorbell rang through the house.
 

I stood, tried to straighten my hair and went to the door, ready to tell whatever salesman was trying to push his wares on me, that I wasn’t interested.
 

But when I opened the door to tell him just where he could go, it was Steph.
 

“Hey, honey. I’m home,” she said in a singsong voice.

“Steph?”

“It’s Wednesday, right? You did tell me to come over Wednesday morning. You said, and I quote ‘I don’t have anywhere to be on Wednesday, we can catch up’ and really, Becca. We need to catch up. It’s been way too long.”
 

“I said that?”

Steph moved past me into the house and past the vacuum. “Of course you did that whole, ‘I’m not as busy as usual on Wednesday’ thing. But I knew you meant it was time to have a coffee. Look at that,” she said looking around the living room, “you always say how hard it is to keep everything clean, but it looks good to me. Let’s get a drink. And snacks. I’m hungry.”
 

I looked at my best friend of almost twenty years and sighed. That’s just the way Steph was. I should be used to it. So much for a morning to myself. I followed her into the kitchen just as she said, “Oh, and Becca, I’m off coffee. It’s herbal tea for me. Do you have any?”

If Steph remembered that I’d told her to come by on Wednesday, I must have mentioned it somewhere along the line. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d forgotten an appointment.
 

I dug up some peppermint tea in the pantry. I’d likely bought it after one of her lectures on eliminating caffeine from my life.
 

With coffee and tea in front of us, I sat at the table. I’d rather catch up with Steph than do dishes or run errands anyway. She was my oldest friend and besides Jon, Steph knew me better than anyone. Maybe even better than Jon, if last night was any indication.
 

“So,” Steph was saying. “How are you? How’re my girls?”

“They’re good—driving me up the wall as usual. Maybe they need a little time with Auntie Steph.”
 

“I’d love that,” Steph said as she rummaged around in her bag. “But things might be a bit crazy for me in the next little while.” She produced a small bottle from her purse.
 

“What’s that?”

“Stevia,” Steph said as she squirted a few drops into her tea. “But you didn’t answer my question. How are you doing?”
 

Steph looked at me the way she always did when she was trying to figure out what was going on in my head. I looked away. I didn’t want to tell her about what happened with Jon. She’d probably just tell me to go buy some slutty lingerie or something to make me feel better about myself. But what I really needed was to find a minute to figure out how to feel anything but exhaustion. A little spark of desire would go a long way, but I didn’t need to hear her opinions about that, either. I should probably have told her how Connie had a theory that all mothers were miserably unhappy, and she was right—I was. I should have told her all of that.
 

“What’s stevia?”

“Becca,” Steph sighed. “It’s a natural sweetener.” She popped the bottle back into her bag. “It’s good to talk about your feelings, you know?”

“I’m fine.” I scooped two large spoonfuls of sugar into my mug and stirred.

“You shouldn’t use so much sugar, it’s like white poison. Besides, don’t you usually drink your coffee black?”
 

“I feel like sugar today.”
 

Steph shot me a look that I pretended not to notice and then said, “So aren’t you going to ask me why I’m going to be busy for a while?”

“Right.” Good, she was done grilling me. “What’s going on with you?” I took a sip of coffee and tried not to grimace at the sweetness.

“Well, I’m glad you asked,” she said, and flipped her long immaculate braid behind her. “I’m going away.”

“Okay.” I should have probably tried to sound more interested, but Steph always had a new plan, a new idea, a new something. It was hard to keep up, let alone feign excitement for each new thing. I reached for a celery stick on the plate I’d put out. It was impossible to find snacks that fit whatever low-fat, no-gluten, soy-only diet Steph was on at any given time. Vegetables may not be elaborate, but they worked. The ranch dressing I coated the celery in was strictly for me. “Where are you going?” I said, after I’d sucked all the dressing off.
 

“I thought you’d never ask,” she said. “I’m going to backpack around Europe. Well, maybe not all of Europe, but Italy for sure. I guess it depends on my mood and where I feel like going when I get there.”

“Europe, huh?” I examined my naked piece of celery. I hated celery. “Sounds fun.”