“Whatever you say.”
I grit my teeth, wondering if this is worth fighting about. It’s not like I love to drive and I’m so eager to be behind the wheel for four hours. But why does he assume he’s always going to be the one driving during these long trips? Worse, he’s going to complain later about how I made him do all the driving, and now he’s tired and crabby.
If we didn’t have two children together, I would call it quits right now. Right this minute.
For a moment, I allow myself to fantasize. Noah, it’s over. It would feel so good to say those words.
Instead, I climb into the passenger’s seat beside him. I smooth out the light pink shorts I bought last week that show off what I think are still some pretty nice legs for my age. Not that Noah would notice. He used to dress nicely when we went out together, but now he sticks to jeans and a T-shirt. Although I admit, they don’t look bad on his solid frame.
He pushes his glasses up his nose and swivels his head to look at me. “Aren’t you going to use the bathroom?”
“No.”
He frowns. “Look, you should go now. I’m not stopping in thirty minutes at a gas station so you can go.”
“Fine. I won’t have to go.”
“Really? Because I feel like whenever you don’t go right before we leave, I end up having to stop right away.”
I glare at him. Are we really having this conversation? I’m not five years old. “Noah, if I needed to use the bathroom, I would go. I don’t have to go.”
He stares at me for a moment, then turns his key in the gas. “Whatever you say, Claire.”
I drop back in my seat, fuming, as he carefully backs out of the driveway and starts driving in the direction of Lindsay’s house. After a minute of silence, he hits the button to start the radio, and Adam Levine’s voice croons the lyrics to a song I’ve heard hundreds of times before.
Noah stares out at the road through his glasses. Back when we first started dating, he only wore glasses in class and when he was driving. He never wore them on our dates. Over the last fifteen years, he’s gotten to the point where he wears them all the time. He says his vision has gotten worse, but I’m not so sure. He wears them all the time for the same reason he doesn’t bother to shave anymore if he doesn’t have to be at work. I’m lucky he gets dressed or showers anymore.
“I got us separate rooms,” I blurt out.
Noah slides his foot onto the brake at a red light. He turns to stare at me, his hazel eyes wide. “What?”
“At the inn.” I look away from him, out the windshield. “I booked us two separate bedrooms.”
“You did?” Even though we have been fighting nonstop all morning （hell, all year）， he sounds hurt. “But… why?”
“Well…” I play with a loose thread on my shirt. “I just thought… I mean, you snore, Noah. And you’re always saying how I move around too much in my sleep. So I thought maybe, you know, we could both get a better night’s sleep if we’re apart.” I hastily add, “Just for the week.”
I hazard a look at Noah. His eyes are pinned on the crosswalk, and a muscle twitches in his jaw.
“I mean,” I babble on, “there are a lot of couples that take separate vacations entirely. There’s nothing wrong with it. You know, a little time apart. You’re going to be spending most of your time fishing anyway, and you’ll have to get up real early…”
The light turns green and Noah hits the gas so hard that my head snaps back. “Right. I get it.”
“So… you’re okay with it?”
That muscle is still twitching in his jaw. “Of course. Separate bedrooms. Perfect. Maybe we won’t have to see each other at all during this trip.”
“Noah…”
But before I can say another word, Noah reaches over and turns up the volume of the radio loud enough to drown out any attempt at conversation. I guess we’re done discussing this.
He’s not thrilled. Frankly, I thought there was a chance he might be relieved we wouldn’t be stuck in a tiny room together for a whole week. Apparently not.
Still, I’m not going to take it back. I’ve been looking forward to these separate rooms all month. I probably should’ve told him sooner, but I didn’t want to have to deal with him sulking about it for weeks. I’m sure once we’re there, he’ll see the wisdom in my decision. And maybe next year, we will end up taking separate vacations. Lindsay and I could take that trip to Hawaii we’ve been talking about for ages.