In honour of The Next Of Us, a steamy, small town, marriage in trouble romance coming out tomorrow (!!!), I give you the first three chapters.
I hope you love it.❤️
Answers
Aaron
Studiously avoiding her wide, doe-eyed stare, I called out a falsely cheerful good morning as I passed through reception and stalked back to my office. Only once I closed my door did my shoulders drop.
But I didn’t breathe any easier.
Up until six months ago, my office was as comfortable and comforting as my own home. Working alongside Max, my stepfather and mentor, had bolstered me in so many unforeseen ways. Steady as the sun and smart as a whip, Max both challenged me and provided me a soft place to land.
The front door of our practice opened up into a reception area that could easily be mistaken for somebody’s family room save for the three desks scattered around the perimeter of the room. Couches, deep armchairs, side tables, toys, puzzles, bookshelves, and a gas fireplace all worked together to further the notion.
The hallway behind reception led to a bathroom and two offices, Max’s and mine. Max’s office was a designer’s dream. Mine was slightly more perfunctory and playful. Seeing as my clientele usually veered toward the younger side, they appreciated my more casual approach.
I mean, who doesn’t like a beanbag chair?
Hanging my coat on the hook behind the door, I ran my hands through my hair and sat down at my desk. Situated directly in front of the window, it at least gave me the illusion of being outdoors.
I dragged the pads of my fingers along its smooth, glossy surface until I reached the scratch that afforded us a 50% discount and smiled. Nadine had been thrilled when she found it. My mom loved it almost as much, and took great satisfaction in informing us all the best things were slightly dented. My smile softened at the thought of the scratch and dent kitchen table from my childhood that my mother still refused to relinquish.
Vera, who had worked with Max forever, barked out a laugh. The sound drifted through my closed door and, reminding me of who else was out there, wiped the smile off my face.
The situation was becoming untenable.
No, it had sprinted past untenable weeks ago when Lynda, the single mom who worked for us, made her feelings clear. At the time, I put it down to misplaced gratitude for helping her nine-year-old son through a tough time.
Schoolyard bullying led him to picking at his skin and plucking his eyebrows thin. Stomach problems soon followed and then he outright refused to go to school. At the end of her rope, Lynda requested help.
She didn’t have to ask me twice. I understood the struggles of a single mom firsthand. After a few months, and several meetings with the school which I voluntarily attended with Lynda and her son, he reached a place where he no longer needed me.
It was then Lynda decided she did.
I passed her and her delusions over to Max. He addressed it in his usual compassionate but straightforward manner.
While she apologized and assured him it wouldn’t happen again, little had changed. The weight of her gaze found and followed me throughout the day despite my obvious coolness toward her. The woman couldn’t take a hint.
I wanted to ask Max to talk to her again but what was I supposed to say? She’s looking at me?
I didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to deal with her emotions. Perhaps, it was time she found another job.
Or, and even better idea, I could.
Because I barely had the bandwidth to deal with anybody’s emotions. In my line of work, this was a major fucking problem. Leaving sounded better all the time.
I huffed out a laugh at the impossibility of starting something new.
This was my job.
My calling.
There were some patients I truly looked forward to seeing. The ones who could laugh at themselves a little bit, who didn’t hesitate to get down to business, those who put their head down and did the work.
The others frustrated me to no end. There was a time those feelings had no place in my day. What would it take to get back to those days?
I wasn’t sure I cared enough to try.
Shortly before lunch, a soft knock I’d come to recognize and despise sounded at my door.
“Yes?” I barked.
The door cracked open tentatively. “Hey,” she breathed. Pale face flushed, eyes wide, she looked at me hopefully. “I’m heading to The Beanery. Can I get you anything? A muffin? Sandwich?”
“I’m good,” I replied shortly, training my gaze on the blank screen in front of me as if it contained the key to Holy Grail.
“Are you sure?”
I didn’t bother to mask my irritation as I cast my eyes vaguely in her direction. “Did you ask Max what he wanted? What about Vera?”
“N-no,” she sputtered, then straightened her spine. Her hands fluttered in front of her body.
I watched them move up to fiddle with the low neckline of her blouse. Had she always dressed like that? Was I getting paranoid about her attentions?
“I just thought with how busy you’ve been, you might need a little extra support.”
Support?
My eyes snapped up to meet hers. There was no mistaking the look of triumph in her eyes.
I barely repressed a sneer and smiled grimly instead. “Thank you, Lynda. You are not my personal assistant. Furthermore, my wife, who is an excellent chef, looks after me just fine.”
“But you’re here late every night…”
My brows lowered as my gaze narrowed. “And you know that how?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I walk past here every night after dinner. Maybe you should walk with me. I’m a good listener. It might clear your head.”
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I prayed for patience. Or serendipitous intervention. “That’s neither relevant nor any concern of yours,” I bit out only to be thankfully interrupted by Max.
“Lynda?” Max’s sharper than usual tone brokered no argument.
I sagged in relief.
He continued, “Come into my office please.”
She gaped and drew back, her eyes skittering between Max and me.
With a weary nod in my direction, Max indicated he would take care of the situation in the precise way we’d been trying to avoid. It killed me for it to come to this because she needed the income.
But I wanted her gone.
When my door snicked gently shut, I sat back in my chair and stared unseeing out the window. If I leaned to the side, I could almost see the tip of Wildflower Bluffs.
I lost several minutes staring at the bluffs before Max’s large shadow darkened my desk. I jerked upright. “Well?”
With a deep sigh, he settled in the chair across from me and crossed his ankle over his knee. “I gave her two weeks notice.”
I grimaced. “I’m relieved and I feel so shitty about being relieved.”
His lips tightened as he nodded in agreement. “There’s no help for it. I did, however, secure her an interview with my accountant. He’s desperate for help.” His grin made him look twenty years younger, bringing me back to that most magical, and stressful, time of my life. “And it helps that he’s pushing seventy.”
I chuckled, the sound dry and raspy from disuse.
“Aaron—” he began.
I held up a palm, closing my eyes to shield myself from the compassion in his. “I can’t, Max.” I looked away and sighed. “I know I need to, but not just yet.” As if reminded, I lurched forward, tugged the top drawer open, and withdrew the file on impulse.
“You’re not going to find answers in there,” Max countered firmly.
I dropped it back inside and slammed the drawer shut. “I know…I know and yet I can’t give up the idea the answer is in there.” I scrubbed my hand over my face. “I can’t fix my mistake if I can’t find it.”
Standing abruptly, Max held out his hand. “Let me take another look.”
I recoiled at the idea of releasing Ryan’s file to Max. I wasn’t hiding anything. In the early days, when Rhonda Deevers was threatening to sue, Max pored over the file with me, searching for a clue.
I simply didn’t want to relinquish it. I wanted it buried in my drawer under lock and key along with my horror, guilt, and obvious failure.
“Give it to me, son,” he continued, his voice gentling. “I’ll go over it again and compare it to my notes from my check-ins with Ryan. If there’s anything you missed, I promise I’ll tell you.”
But you’re here late every night…
I held Max’s gaze.
I couldn’t keep going the way I was.
My wife deserved better.
Sliding the drawer open once more, I looked down at my nemesis, tempted beyond reason to flip through my notes one more time.
Ignoring the urge, I handed it over, and a thousand pounds shifted from my shoulders. I inhaled deeply. “Thank you.”
“Why don’t you take the next two weeks?”
My gaze snapped up to his as my brow furrowed. “What?”
While Max and I still worked together, at this point I carried most of the therapeutic load while he focussed on initial assessments, diagnoses, follow-ups, and recruiting his replacement.
As much as I dreaded Max leaving, it would be good to partner with another full-time therapist. As it was now, the hours grew as my tolerance waned. Not a good combination.
He nodded. “I’ll take any patients that can’t miss, the rest can reschedule.”
My mouth hung open.
What would I do for two weeks?
How would I fill the hours? I snapped my mouth shut so hard my teeth clicked.
It’s not like I couldn’t afford to shuffle vacation time around to accommodate the extra time off, but two weeks alone with my thoughts?
No.
He looked at his watch and pushed back from his desk. “I’ve got preliminary interviews lined up this week and next. When you get back, we can decide who to bring back and see them together.”
“That would be good.” I heard the relief seeping into my voice.
He chuckled. “Take Nadine up to the cabin for a few days. See if you can reset.” His amiable smile gave way to a look of deep concern. “And if you’re still in this place when you get back, you’re going to need to talk about it.”
“I know.”
I know.
Roots
Nadine
I woke up the same way I went to bed: alone. Worse, Aaron’s side of the bed had not been slept in.
At all.
Our bedroom had gone through a series of metamorphoses over the years. This latest found me bathed in soft lighting and surrounded in a nest of muted greens and blues, the colors of the lake I loved so much.
But nothing could soothe me in that moment. Aaron had never, in the twenty-five years we’d been married, not come home.
Oh, God.
My blood pounded in my ears.
Something’s wrong.
Two phone calls within 6 months of each other proved things could change in the blink of an eye.
I whipped the covers off and swung my legs out of bed. “Aaron?”
My bare feet skimmed across the wood floors and pounded down the stairs, a high-pitched whimper breaching my lips as I raced through the family room looking for him.
What if something happened to him?
The breath whooshed from my lungs.
What if he didn’t come home for another reason?
I shuddered.
The what ifs and the maybes threatening my sanity.
It wasn’t the first time I’d considered that possibility in the past six months. Aaron had changed. More than anything else, he’d changed toward me.
What would I do without him?
My hands tunneled through my hair and fisted as I spun around calling out his name. “Aaron!”
Maybe he was working out.
I stumbled to the basement door, screeching to a stop as I passed the couch piled high with extra blankets. Collapsing nearly in half, I braced my hands on my thighs and released one panicked breath after another.
Caged behind my ribs, my heart did its level best to escape. Stomach churning, I pressed my palm to my throat and swallowed the bile that burned the back of my tongue.
Standing, I forced my shoulders down. “He’s okay,” I breathed as relief slowly gave way to a quiet fury.
And it stayed quiet.
As I went through my morning routine of dressing, making coffee, and downing my usual orange juice, vitamins, and bagel, I did what I always had and tamped my feelings down so I could go about my day as normal.
In the past few months, Aaron had often left for work before I got up, but he’d never not slept in our bed.
If it wasn’t for the fact he worked with his stepfather, I might think he was stepping out on me.
My blood ran cold at the thought.
Would Max tell me? Would Aaron care if Max knew? If his mom knew? Wren would be horrified if Aaron did that. But would she hide it from me?
Half of me wanted to walk down to his office and see just what was so goddamned all-encompassing. The other half, beaten down by the events of the past 18 months, urged me to bury my head in the sand.
That half won.
There was only so much a woman could take.
A surge of anger resurfaced. It wasn’t like I hadn’t asked, repeatedly, what was going on with him. He’d yet to give me an answer that rang with any kind of truth.
We argued, I pushed, he withdrew, and I begged to no avail.
And so it went.
On repeat.
For months.
A year ago, I would have pushed. Now? Half the time I didn’t know if I was coming or going. I showed up for appointments I didn’t have and missed the ones I did.
Twice I’d stood up Harley, my pseudo-mom, forgetting we had plans.
Harley ran the Sage Ridge Resort and had taken Aaron under her wing when he and I were first starting out. She’d stuck close to us both ever since.
Pregnant at the same time, we’d raised our kids together. With Harley I could open up in a way I never could with my own mother. She was my older, wiser sister and my best friend.
And I had sorely needed to talk.
Wren was always available for me as well, but she was first and foremost, Aaron’s mother.
On top of my newfound forgetfulness, my body threatened me with period pains a few days every couple of weeks but produced no period.
And that wasn’t all.
My poor coochie was as dry as the Atacama Desert, my freaking nipples were shrinking, my sex drive was in the toilet, and I’d packed on at least ten pounds.
And the crying. God, the crying. My freaking eyelids were chapped.
So, no. I didn’t have it in me to push.
Snagging my cell phone, I tapped out a text with trembling fingers. It seemed this was the only way we talked now.
Me: Are you okay?
Three dots danced across the screen. I stared at them, willing him to answer. Finally, when I’d been about to give up hope, his text came through.
Aaron: I’m sorry I stayed so late. I’ll make it up to you.
Make it up to me?
Was that supposed to be a comfort? Was I the only one missing us?
I contemplated texting him back and demanding an explanation, but my early conditioning, growing up with parents who were loving but strict in a way that allowed no room for disagreement, kicked in.
With Aaron as attentive as he was, I’d gotten better at making myself heard over the years.
Now I knew that confidence was a fallacy and falsely based on Aaron’s willingness to listen instead of my own certainty that I deserved to be heard.
My hands shook as I wound the whisper soft cashmere scarf Aaron bought me for my last birthday around my neck. Every year he loved to surprise me with something decadent and far outside the budget I set for my own spending.
Not that I expected or even wanted it, but he insisted I deserved every good thing.
Would he even remember my birthday this year?
I pulled on my boots and coat and trudged through the snow that blanketed the long driveway Aaron had neglected to clear. It matched the road the snowplow hadn’t yet reached.
That was maybe the only drawback to living on a large property on a quiet street in Little River.
Shaking my head, I made my way out onto our quiet street in Little River and made my way to the garden center.
I turned back once to look at the house that was so perfect it may as well have been plucked from my imagination. We’d gone out on a bit of a limb to buy it, but it had served us well.
Backing onto a thick pine forest, it boasted five bedrooms, fully finished recreation and workout rooms in the basement, and thanks to Max and Wren’s exquisite taste, beautiful decor.
With a steady stream of kids, then teenagers, and finally, young adults streaming in and out, it had almost seemed too small at one time. Now I spent my time cleaning a house that never collected any dust. It was far too big for two people, especially when only one of us spent any time here.
I lifted my chin and continued on. One day our grandchildren would race through those rooms. They would fill it with laughter once again.
Not that it had only known laughter.
Money got tight when our eldest, Thalia, ran into some trouble. Aaron and I decided one of us should stay home. He volunteered, but I insisted. He’d worked too hard to build his practice. And for me, with my daughter struggling, cooking had lost much of its flavor.
Years later, boredom and an empty nest pushed this mama bird back out into a job market for which I was woefully unprepared.
I hauled the heavy door of the garden center open and burst inside, stomping my feet on the mat inside the door.
“It’s getting bitter out there,” Carlos greeted me.
Working part-time with Carlos wasn’t exactly my life’s calling, but it got me out of the house for a few hours a week.
I had considered returning to my first love, but long nights running a kitchen along with Aaron’s long days in his clinic would have left no time for us.
“It is.” I toed off my boots and tucked them away before putting on my running shoes. Unwinding my scarf, I hung up my coat then headed over to the counter where Carlos so diligently tended his leafy babies.
If I could have gone back in time, I might have chosen something that could better sustain the family life I craved. In any case, it was far too late to start over. And wasn’t this the time we should be focussing more on us?
I’d chased my career. I raised my kids. I wanted my husband.
My chest ached. I dropped my eyes to shutter the pain. Did my sweet husband still want me?
Closing my eyes, I inhaled the earthy fragrance of rich earth and hothouse roses and let it wrap around my bruised spirit like the sweetest balm. I’d have had a jungle in my house, but I was infamous for killing plants.
Poor Carlos.
Looking up from his work, he grinned and tossed me a saucy wink. “You’re looking gorgeous as always.”
I laughed. “Stop, Carlos. I’ll tell Vera.”
My eyebrows rose. Tattling to Vera would give me a good excuse to drop by Aaron’s office and see what was going on. A ripple of dismay stopped my thoughts in their tracks because I couldn’t remember the last time I walked over to see my husband or bring him lunch at work.
I did it so often, he bought custom TV trays that hovered over those ridiculous beanbag chairs he loved so we could picnic in his office. A smile softened my lips then slowly faded.
When did I stop making us picnics?
And why hadn’t he said anything?
Carlos cackled. “Tell her! I love it when she gets a little jealous.” He grinned again. “Brings out the feline in her.”
“Oh my God.” I shook my head but could not help but laugh. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Married for forty years to that woman. I know her better than I know myself.” He beamed. “And that’s the way she likes me.”
I laughed and peered at the line-up of pots on the counter. Inhaling a centering breath, I pulled my thoughts away from my floundering marriage. “Why do you have all the bonsai trees out again?”
“Ah,” he began. “Today I’m going to teach you how to care for them.”
I looked at him quizzically. “Haven’t we been doing just that for the past three weeks?”
“No,” he shook his head. “We were pruning.” Tugging a new pot forward, Carlos skimmed a gentle hand over the leaves. “See here? See what a perfect job you did pruning the leaves? See how perfectly it’s shaped? You did a good job.”
“Thank you.”
I’d been terrified when he’d handed me those tiny shears, astounded he would trust me with his babies. I swear the man died a little inside every time he sold one.
Gently, he lifted the tiny plant from its pot and brushed the dirt from its base. Turning it over, he revealed the finely twisted snarl of roots. “The roots,” he pointed with his shears, “we need to ensure enough room for growth. If we don’t guard against overcrowding, we risk rot. You can prune all you want, and it won’t make a bit of difference. You’ve got to nourish the roots.”
After demonstrating and ensuring I’d caught on, he left me alone at the pruning table. His deep baritone echoed back to me from all corners as he went about his business, singing his heart out.
You have to nourish the roots.
Is that where we’d gone wrong?
I pulled the next tiny tree forward, its glossy leaves perfect. I gently freed it from its confines and dusted off the roots. The tangled snarl clenched around the taproot like a fist, leaving it no room to breathe.
Suddenly Carlos voice sounded behind me. “That one is overgrown. It needs to be trimmed and repotted.”
Maybe I needed to be repotted.
Trapped
Aaron
Running on less than three hours of sleep, I slid back behind my desk by 6:00 AM in order to avoid Lynda. So far, I’d been firm but kind, but I needed to get out of here before I blew up at her. The situation was no less delicate for the fact I no longer gave a shit.
With the promise of escape, I quickly wrapped up what I had spent hours staring at blankly the night before and headed back to my car.
I closed my eyes and dropped my head against the back of my seat. Get your shit together.
What the hell was I going to do with myself for the next two weeks?
Should I take Nadine to the cabin?
I shook my head grimly as I started the car. I wasn’t fit for company, especially not her sweet company. She shouldn’t have to deal with my midlife crisis bullshit on top of grieving the loss of both her parents.
I’d seen the questions in her eyes, I wasn’t blind, but I had no answers.
None I cared to share.
I pulled onto Main Street. At the intersection, I sat drumming my thumb on the steering wheel. Knowing Nadine would be working at the garden center all day, instead of heading home, I turned right.
My lips quirked as I pictured Nadine standing over our withering houseplants with a perplexed look on her face. When the kids found out she was working at the garden center, they teased her mercilessly. We had howled with laughter. That day seemed so far away, now.
She had always been creative. Cooking and crafting came easy to her, and our outside gardens were immaculate. She was like my mother in those ways. I’d lost count over the years of the hours Nadine and my mom spent bent over one project or another.
It had been a while since I’d seen her so absorbed.
My eyes widened as a chill skittered down my back because I had no idea how my wife had spent her time over the past several months.
I shook my head. Disengaged. We were disengaged and disconnected. And we’d never been that couple.
The world fell away outside my window. It didn’t escape my notice that the farther I traveled away from Sage Ridge, the better I felt.
We’d had a tough year.
First, Nadine’s father passed unexpectedly.
Then, we realized her mom was wholly and entirely incapable of caring for herself in all but the most basic of manners. She didn’t want to leave her house, didn’t want to move in with us, and refused homecare.
Nadine spent as many nights at her mom’s as she did at ours in an effort to ease her mom into the necessary changes. The poor woman was lost, grieving, and ultimately not long for this world.
And in the midst of all that I, well, it did not bear thinking about.
Two hours later, I sat in the driveway and stared at the cabin.
I’d driven the road we’d traveled a hundred times before without conscious thought and ended up exactly where I wanted to be. If I was smart, I’d back out onto the road and head home. Instead, I turned off the ignition, pushed open my door, and got out.
With my hands on my hips, I studied the outside of the old A-frame. It had seen better days but was still solid as a rock.
If I closed my eyes just a little, I could see our kids playing in the yard with Max and my mom, my sister Audrey perched on the step with her latest manuscript, her dry commentary splitting our sides.
I could picture Nadine curled up on the porch, her head thrown back, mouth wide with laughter, hugging a hot cup of tea. Even if it was one hundred degrees outside, Nadine wanted her tea.
If I tilted my head just so, I could see the Christmas we crammed in here like sardines. Mom, Max, Audrey, Me, Nadine, seven-year-old Thalia, two-year-old Brandon, my dad, his wife to whom I would be forever grateful, and my fourteen-year-old brother, Isaiah. I huffed out a breath. It had gone surprisingly well until a massive bull moose made camp on the front lawn.
We gathered around the window.
“Would you look at that,” Max murmured.
“Incredible,” my mom agreed, leaning into his side.
I held Thalia up so she could get a better view.
Nadine stood beside me, Brandon in her arms, pointing at the moose. Brandon, his baby face all goobery, pointed and said, “Moooooo.”
Isaiah cracked up. “It’s not a cow, Spike.”
A blast of cold air and the loud clanging of pot lids tore our attention from the window.
Audrey stood on the front porch less than fifteen feet from the massive animal.
My mom gasped so hard she sucked half the oxygen out of the room.
“Fuck!” Max bellowed, scrambling like a cartoon as his socks failed to grip the wood floors.
Unfazed, her weight back on her heels, Audrey banged the lids together again. “Move on, moose. Move on,” she ordered calmly.
The moose turned to look at her just as Max made it to the door. Two seconds later, he’d hauled Audrey none-too-gently inside and slammed the door closed.
His chest rose and fell like a bellows as he stared at her, his hands on his hips. Finally, he stated, his face serious, “Audrey, that was a bull moose.”
In answer, she handed him the Polaroids she’d taken before she’d told it to move on. “I took these for you, Mymax.”
His mouth opened and shut but no sound came out as his eyes bounced back and forth between the pictures in his hand and Audrey’s serene face.
“We’ll talk later.” She patted him on the head then turned and walked away.
Max, his eyes wide, twisted around to stare at my mother. “That fucking camera is going to be the death of me.”
A raspy laugh shook my shoulders.
If I closed my eyes, I could imagine myself back in simpler times though they hadn’t felt easy at the time. Hindsight taught me neither the good times nor the bad lasted forever. But the one constant in my life since I was sixteen years old was Nadine.
My heart, once it chose, never faltered.
When I closed my eyes just a little, I revisited a past so full of sweetness it made my teeth ache.
When I closed them completely, I saw something else altogether.
I gave my head a shake and looked at my watch. It was barely ten, still early which was good because I didn’t want to leave just yet.
Flipping through my keys I found the one for the cabin and let myself in. Here was happiness. Simplicity. Rest.
I inspected the wood stove, then quickly prepared it for whoever landed here next. Methodically moving through the rooms, I checked doors, windows, plumbing, and appliances.
We kept the temperature in the cabin at a balmy sixty degrees in the winter, increasing the heat only when someone came up. Even then, we preferred to rely on the wood stove.
I shook out the blankets folded over the backs of the couches and fluffed the pillows, taking comfort in following Nadine’s customary routine.
Tempted as I was to light the stove and stretch out with my feet to the fire, I had a two-hour drive ahead of me. And Nadine believed, rightfully so, I was at work.
Work. What a shitshow. Gratitude for this break had quickly replaced the initial shock of Max suggesting I take two weeks off. Wound as tight as a drum, I was one light touch away from combustion.
What had once been a calling now felt suspiciously like a noose. I shuddered at the comparison, mentally scuttling away from it like a trapped animal.
Now that comparison, I could relate to.
I didn’t begrudge my children a single thing and would give them more if I could. But years of university tuitions, four car payments, a never-ending list of household repairs, and mortgage payments for a house that was decidedly too big, had begun to wear on me.
I couldn’t do anything about the house. Nadine had taken one look at the behemoth and fell in love. Based on its age, I knew we’d be sinking a shitload of money into it. But the look on my wife’s face? Like she had a front row seat to the heavenly chorus? That was worth any and everything.
Still was.
I’d taken great joy in providing for my family.
Always.
Why now did it all seem to be too much?
Locking the front door, I grabbed the shovel off the porch and made short work of the driveway and front path, guilt at the state of my driveway at home pushing me to work faster.
It wasn’t like this place hadn’t cost us all a pretty penny over the years, and it could do with a serious overhaul to bring it up to date.
Leaning on the shovel, I looked up and visually traced the simple, clean lines of the cabin.
Life had been simpler then.
Was simple completely out of reach?
Your love story doesn’t end at the altar. If we’re oh-so-very-lucky, we find a love that never ends.
Sigh.
I love a good, hard-won, happily ever after.❤️
Happy Reading, lovelies.
Live Messy, Love Madly,
Devin xo