Till Summer Do Us Part(14)

No.

No, no, no, no.

I take it back. Ask me.

Now multiple games are flooding my brain.

Monopoly. Yahtzee. Kings in the corner. Bowling. Freaking slapjack!

Choose any one of those.

Not bedroom games.

“Interesting,” Sanders says. “I’m glad you’re comfortable talking about that.”

Uh, we’re not actually.

We are not comfortable at all.

I would like to have him ask the question again. I’m prepared with answers. Thanks.

“Would you say you’re adventurous in bed?”

That would be a no.

“Very,” Wilder answers. “We’ve done it all. Name the position, check. Name the angle, done it. Name the body part, licked it.”

Dear God in heaven.

I can feel my cheeks flame with embarrassment as a smidge of sweat starts to drip down my back.

“And would you say those games have died down?”

Wilder hangs his head and gently nods it. “Yes, they have.” He looks over at me. “Right, Pips?”

Can we just pause for a moment and take a step back, because this therapy session went from zero to sixty in what feels like five seconds. We’re discussing our sex life already? Whatever happened to gentle pleasantries?

I guess there are none when you’re paying by the hour.

I clear my throat and try to put on a neutral expression. “Yes, the passion has died.”

“Do you know why?” Sanders asks.

Wilder looks at me, waiting for me to answer as I nervously wet my lips and try to think of an answer. “Um…”

“She doesn’t want kids,” Wilder says.

What?

No!

You were the one who was supposed to not want kids, not me.

“I think she’s afraid that we might get pregnant.”

“That’s, uh, that’s not true,” I say.

“Babe.” Wilder levels with me, turning in my direction. “A few months ago, when you wanted me to pull out—that was you telling me you didn’t want kids.”

Christ.

What happened to sticking to the plan?

“Was that the case?” Sanders asks as he tosses the football in the air now. Someone needs to revoke his credentials, because this is…this is childish behavior. No wonder all the Brads and Chad like him, because he’s just like them. Makes me sick!

“No, I…I want kids.”

“You do?” Sanders asks. “Then why does Wilder think otherwise?”

Both sets of eyes are on me, waiting for an answer. One that I don’t have, because this is not how this session was supposed to go.

“Pips, you told me that you weren’t ready.”

Attempting to keep a smile on my face despite the raging inferno building inside me, I say, “Uh, that’s because we’re still young and trying to work on our careers. Just because I said I wasn’t ready doesn’t mean I don’t want them.”

“She has a point,” Sanders says, finally joining my side. “But did you communicate that specifically with him?”

Oh, never mind.

“Not to throw her under the bus, but she didn’t,” Wilder says, rubbing his palms on the tops of his thighs.

“Is this when the passion started to fizzle?” Sanders asks.

“Yeah, that and after the trip to Montauk,” Wilder says.

What on God’s green earth is he doing?

Montauk?

I’ve never been there in my life.

Pretty sure if you handed me a map and told me to point to Montauk, I would have no idea where to begin.

“What happened in Montauk?” Sanders asks.

Wilder gestures to me. “Do you want to tell him, or do you want me to?”

I think he knows the freaking answer to that question.

Through clenched teeth, I say, “By all means, you lead the way.”

He pats my leg and then says, “It was my twenty-seventh birthday trip.”

God, I forgot he was two years younger. Shouldn’t really be that big of a difference, but I’m starting to see the contrast between the two of us.

“She surprised me with a trip because she knows how much I like lighthouses.”

Oddly, I could see him liking lighthouses in real life.

“Very thoughtful,” Sanders says.

Finally, some praise. I nod in agreement. See, I’m not the bad guy in this situation.

I take my husband to see the lighthouses he loves so dearly.

“Everything started off fine. We were holding hands. We were joking around. There were smiles for days.” Wow, quite the cheesy picture he paints. “She booked us a room in a beautiful yet quaint bed-and-breakfast near the coast. One of those places you see in a Hallmark film. White picket fence. Flowers decorating window boxes. The older couple at registration, willing and ready to welcome you in.”

“I know just the kind of place you speak of,” Sanders says, leaning into the storytelling.

“We were set up for a successful weekend of lovemaking and lighthouse watching until we tried to check in. To our dismay, they didn’t have us on the reservation list. Naturally, Scottie showed them the confirmation number, only for the couple to point out that she booked the stay for a different date.” He pauses for dramatic effect and then says on a whisper, “She booked it under her ex’s birthday.”