“That was Freddie,” she said.
Anton sat very still, watching her.
“He’s loving Paris.” She raised the glass to her lips and took a sip.
Anton cleared his throat but said nothing.
“I’m not sure when he’ll be back. He wants to stay there to write until he finally types ‘The End.’” She fanned herself with her open hand.
“Are you all right?” Anton asked.
“Yes, just a little warm. Don’t worry. I’m used to this,” she explained. “Freddie’s been working on this book since the day we got married. It’s very important to him. It’s just . . .” She paused. “It’s taking an awfully long time.”
When Anton said nothing, she looked away, closed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. I apologize.”
“For what?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe for sounding like an unhappy housewife. But I’m not unhappy. I swear.”
He sat forward slightly. “But something’s wrong.”
She thought about that for a moment. “Maybe. I suppose I always thought I would do something amazing with my life. I thought it would be motherhood, but it’s starting to feel like all I ever do is support my husband’s dreams.”
“There’s nothing wrong with supporting your husband’s dreams,” Anton replied. “It’s a good thing, if you ask me, but it has to go both ways. He needs to support your dreams too. That’s where most couples run into trouble, I think. I speak from experience.”
She leaned back on the sofa and looked up at the ceiling. “I realize that marriage takes work, but lately I’ve been feeling very alone, even when we’re in the same room together. I’m not sure if we’re on the same page about things, and I’m starting to wonder if I might have made a mistake when I married him.”
God . . . oh God. Had she really just said that? She’d never said anything like that to anyone before. She’d never even admitted it to herself.
“I was pregnant,” she confessed. “But then I lost the baby, not long after we were married.”
Anton sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Lillian sat forward as well. “Thank you. It took me a while to get over it and feel ready to try again, but now I’m starting to wonder if Freddie will ever be ready. He keeps saying he wants to finish his book first, but I have a feeling what he really wants is the freedom to write, and he doesn’t want the distraction of having a child to look after, while that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Have you talked to him about it?”
“Yes, but it’s not easy. I can’t force him to make a baby with me if he’s not ready or doesn’t want it.” She shook her head at herself. “I think losing the baby was hard for him. Harder than he realizes. He doesn’t handle loss well because his mother walked out on him when he was little. Maybe there’s a part of him that’s afraid he’ll lose me to the child . . . that my focus won’t be on him anymore.”
“It’s not your job to be a mother figure to him,” Anton said.
Lillian lowered her gaze. “I know.” Then she covered her face with her hands. “What is wrong with me? I can’t believe I’m telling you all this. You’re my boss.”
“It’s fine,” he replied, nonplussed. “Maybe I can help somehow.”
She lowered her hands to her lap and found herself laughing. “Anton. How could you possibly help?”
He chuckled as well and sat back. “I don’t know. That was a ridiculous thing to say.”
There was something about the tone of his response that caused a fluttering in her belly. “Actually, no, it wasn’t ridiculous. It helps that you’re listening. Thank you.” For a long, easy moment, they sat in silence, while she continued to reflect upon her relationship with Freddie. “I think part of the problem is that I’ve always been inclined to put his needs before my own. I have this inherent compulsion to do everything in my power to make sure that he’s happy. So I’m the one who supports us financially so that he can pursue his dream. I don’t turn off the light at night until he’s ready to go to sleep. And I’m the one who waits for him to want to have a baby. My being ready isn’t part of the equation.”
“You’re very generous,” Anton said. “Is he generous as well? Does he ever put your needs first?”