Clusterpuck (Vegas Crush #9)

26. Not Even the Same Book

26 /

not even the same book

Tripp

The sun is bright in my face as I blink out of a deep sleep. Confusion sets in. Where am I? I don’t think I went on some bender and slept with a random last night. Did I?

I roll over and pat the large bed, looking to find another human body, but I’m alone, so I push myself up to my elbows and look around.

Last night floods back to me as I take in the expanse of Lila’s room here at her grandfather’s house. The king-sized bed with its dark wood and soft, white duvet. The chaise by the window, along with the discarded notes on the reasons for and against marrying me.

Married.

I hold out my left hand and there it is—the simple gold band I chose for myself.

Lila’s probably off to get an annulment by now, having realized how deeply stupid it would be to waste herself on a guy like me. I mean, sure, I’ve got money. I’ve been frugal throughout my career and I have a good investment manager. I’m still in good shape for an almost-forty guy. But the end of my career is like the edge of a cliff, nothing but a void once I step off. I’m introverted and irritable and, as she often tells me, out of touch with today’s societal norms or whatever. And let’s not forget that I am thirteen years her senior. I was a teenager when she was born.

Not my favorite thought.

Hence, the reason I’ve forced down these feelings for the past few years.

I compel myself out of the bed, feet hitting the soft carpet as I realize I’m naked and have no idea where my clothing is. Maybe out by the pool, still?

A trip to Lila’s en suite reveals my clothing, all folded neatly on top of the sink. I throw everything on, use my finger to brush my teeth, and step out into the house to see if I can find any sign of Lila.

My wife.

Who isn’t off getting an annulment at all. No, I find her in the kitchen, frying bacon in a skillet, wearing only a long T-shirt and apparently nothing else. The smell of breakfast food makes my stomach rumble.

“Well, don’t you look sexy when you wake up,” she comments, looking… happy.

“You’re awfully chipper for someone who just married a guy you don’t love because of a baby you didn’t plan,” I say, though in a joking tone. I snag a piece of crisp bacon and shove it into my mouth.

“I’m choosing to enjoy a moment,” she says while whipping eggs in a bowl. “Just let me have it. I’ll go right back to being a freaked out, panicked mess soon enough.”

Encouraged, I stand behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, my hands resting on her belly, my mouth finding her neck and that soft spot that makes her purr like a cat. I slide my hands down between her bare legs, pushing her thighs apart, two fingers dipping into her wet folds.

Lila moans, her head thrown back against my chest. “Trying to focus, here.”

“Trying to distract, here.”

“Doing a good job but knock it off. I hate burnt eggs.”

I pull my hands away and put them up in surrender. “Your wish is my command. Can I help? I’m shit at cooking, but I can put a slice of bread in the toaster like nobody’s business.”

Lila stops and gives me the strangest appraisal. “You seem different today, too.”

I lift a shoulder. “Just going with the flow.”

I get us both a glass of juice and set the table, Lila delivering food to our plates. It looks delicious and I tell her so.

“Don’t get used to it. I’m not a barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen type of girl.”

“Duly noted,” I say, before broaching a more serious topic. “So, have you thought about what kind of living arrangements you might want? My place here is crap, but I certainly have the money to get something nicer if you decide you want to stay in Vegas after the season.”

“No, I’m heading to Ohio this fall for school, as planned.”

I can feel my forehead crinkle as I process this information. “You’re just going to move to Ohio? Like, do I get a say in that at all?”

“No, not really. I mean, you can come if you want. You don’t have to.”

“Are you…taking our child with you to Ohio?”

“That would be the plan, yes.”

“How is that gonna work?” I scoff. “You and an infant in a whole new state, trying to get to class and do homework?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“And you expect me to—what—just trot along like the nanny behind you? Stay home and be some house-husband, cooking and cleaning and changing diapers while you’re out doing whatever you want?”

Lila laughs at this. “Dude, seriously?”

“What?”

“I’m not going to Ohio to party or whatever, Tripp. I’m going to finish the educational path I set for myself.”

“And then?”

“And then I get a job somewhere. Probably low level at crappy pay. And I’ll work really hard and hopefully it will lead to the next opportunity. That’s what normal people do in life.”

“Well, you’re not a normal person. You don’t need to do this. You could literally have a job tomorrow if you wanted one, between all of our family connections.”

“Well, I don’t want things handed to me. I want to earn them. I want to learn. I want to do the job.”

“And where will you do this job?”

“I don’t know,” she says, her fork halfway to her mouth. “It depends on who will want me on their team.”

Some kind of noise bubbles up my throat. “I don’t see how you can do all of this and raise a baby.”

“Women do it all the time,” she answers tightly. “And remember that partnership conversation we had last night? Remember how I said I still wanted a career and how you said you weren’t the kind of guy that would balk at poopy diapers or whatever?”

“Well, it’s hard to change poopy diapers when my wife and child are off in the fucking wilds of Ohio and I’m here.”

Lila makes a face. “Tripp, your career is almost over. You’ll be retired from hockey, and you’ll have plenty of time.”

“Well, I didn’t plan on spending all of that time taking care of an infant in the great state of Ohio.”

“What did you plan on doing, then?” Lila asks, shoveling eggs in her mouth.

Okay, she’s got me. I had no plans. I just fold my arms and stare at her.

“Right,” she says, setting down her fork. “You know, I knew we were too hasty. I knew this was a mistake.”

“I think I agree. We’re not on the same page about things at all.”

“Tripp, we’re not even reading the same book.”

Shoving my chair out from the table, I get up. “I’m going to get out of your hair. I’ll go.”

“Fine,” she says.

I press my lips together, so I don’t say something stupid and start walking out to where I parked my car. I get in and just sit for a minute, check for messages on my phone, mentally castrating myself for the millionth time, wishing I could turn back time. You know, the usual.

I look up and see Lila coming out of the house, having pulled on some shorts and a pair of flip-flops. She’s still angry, that much is clear by the way her shoulders square as she stares off into the distance.

My heart hurts a little as I study Lila’s profile. I’m not sure why. This was truly a bonehead idea that I didn’t think through at all. She doesn’t want me. She probably doesn’t even like me. Chemistry and sexual satisfaction do not require love or even respect. They don’t even require friendship. They just require two willing bodies.

I’m actually kind of sick to my stomach about this. I did say I’d be a good partner, but she conveniently left out the part about moving across the country with our baby. I guess I thought maybe grad school was off, considering the circumstances.

I start the car and drive up beside her. I roll down the window and open my mouth but realize I don’t know what to say. I settle on, “You look beautiful when you’re angry.”

She just keeps staring away from me, not saying anything.

“Let me take you on a date, Lila. Just you and me. Let’s just talk. Get to know each other. No stress. Okay?”

When she looks at me, there are tears in her eyes. She doesn’t say yes, but she doesn’t say no.

“I’ll text you,” I say as I roll up the window.

She’s all I can think about the whole drive back to town.