She was holding her breath. “But?”
“But it’s not very flattering to know you’re dreading the kids leaving. I know you’ll miss them—I’ll miss them—but you seem to be forgetting that we still have each other. I know empty-nest syndrome is a thing, and I get it, but there’s a difference between missing them—which is healthy and natural—and dismissing what’s left of your life. When you say you don’t know how you’ll cope when they’re gone, I feel hurt because you’re basically saying our relationship isn’t important to you anymore. That I don’t count.”
Anna felt as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. “Pete, that’s not true. You know it’s not true.”
“I’m telling you how I feel, Anna. You’re anxious about how you’re going to cope when they leave, but not once have you seen it as an opportunity. You focus on what will be missing from your life, not on what is left. And that’s me, by the way. Us. We’re what is left, but you don’t seem at all excited about that.”
She opened her mouth to point out how wrong he was, but when she tried to find evidence that would refute his accusation, her mind blanked. He was right. She did think about what she was losing, and not what would still be there. She hadn’t been able to see it as an opportunity. And she felt a rush of guilt because only now could she see how it might have felt to him. As if the two of them being left alone together was a bad thing. Something she was dreading. And she was dreading the moment the twins left, but not because she didn’t want to be with Pete. She loved him. She adored him.
And now she’d hurt him. Pete, who had been there for her through thick and thin. Pete, who always listened and paid attention to her feelings. Since when had she been so careless with his? She’d made him feel as if he wasn’t enough and the mere idea that she’d caused him pain made her chest ache.
She gripped the phone, wanting badly to put things right, wishing they were having this conversation face-to-face. “Pete—”
“I’ve lost count of the number of times this year I’ve suggested going away together. I even booked that weekend for our anniversary, but Meg had something going on and you wanted me to cancel.”
Her guilt intensified, which might have been why she felt the need to defend herself. “She had an exam on the Monday. I wanted to be around for her. It didn’t feel like the right time to go away.”
“No, the truth is that at some point we stopped being a priority. Our relationship is something that gets slotted in around the kids. Before the kids were born, before they were part of our lives, we enjoyed being together.” He spoke quietly. “Remember that trip to Paris we took after we left college?”
She hadn’t thought about the trip in years. “We had no money. We stayed in that place with the bed that squeaked so badly we could only have sex on the floor.”
“We couldn’t afford to eat in restaurants, so we took French bread and ham back to our room.”
She closed her eyes and let her mind go back there. They’d drunk cheap red wine and studied the guide book trying to work out how long it would take to walk to the Eiffel Tower because they couldn’t afford a metro ticket. “You’re forgetting the cheese.”
“I’ve never forgotten the cheese. And we could only go to places that were free. We walked everywhere—”
She smiled. “I wore through a pair of shoes.”
“But we had fun. We laughed a lot.”
They had laughed a lot. How could she have forgotten that trip? “The wine was terrible.”
“It was truly terrible, although that could have been because we used the cup from the bathroom. I seem to remember that was your idea.”
“I think it was.” She couldn’t imagine doing it now, but back then she’d felt as if she was living her greatest adventure. It had been a perfect trip, and the reason it had been perfect was because she’d been with Pete. Something uncurled inside her.
“Do you remember when the twins were young, and your mother used to babysit so we could go out for dinner?” He was reminding her of those early days when time together had been rare and precious.
“Of course I remember.”
“You said you loved it because it gave you an excuse to dress up and feel like something other than a mother.”
That was true. She’d treasured those moments when she and Pete had stolen time together.
“We made a rule that we couldn’t talk about the kids. The evening had to be about us. We were the priority. The first time we did it we sat in silence for the first half hour because neither of us could think of a single thing to say that didn’t involve the children.”
“I know. And at the beginning of our relationship we couldn’t stop talking. You had opinions on everything, and I loved hearing them.” He gave a soft laugh. “Once the twins arrived it took us a while to remember how to communicate about something that wasn’t sleeping, feeding or keeping them alive.”
“We were so tired.”
“Don’t remind me.”
But somehow they’d weathered those sleepless nights and the relentless demands of small children. They’d taken it in turns to get up early at weekends, each allowing the other a lie-in. They’d shared. They’d figured it out together.
And they should be figuring out this next step together, too.
We were the priority.
“Pete—”
“I know things are changing.” His voice was quiet. “Life, relationships—they constantly evolve. But I still remember that first time I saw you in the library. I think about that first night we spent together when you told me in detail what you would have changed about the book you were reading. About all the plans you had for the future and I was so desperate to share that future with you. We built our little family together, and we will always be a family even if we’re not all living under the same roof. That’s enough for me, but it seems it’s no longer enough for you. I want to help, but I don’t know how.”
There was a pressure in her throat. “Pete—”
“I have to go, Anna. Lola is running in circles waiting to be let into the garden and then I have to cook lunch.”
“Wait—” She felt something close to panic. “Call me afterward. I love you.”
There was a pause. “This is your time with your friends. Enjoy your lunch and your book chat, Anna. We can talk when you’re home.”
She waited, expectant, but then realized that he’d ended the call. Pete had ended the call without saying those words back to her. When had he ever not said them back?
She paced to the window, trying to calm herself by looking at the snow that coated the world outside, but all she could think of was Pete.
Pete was hurting, which was bad. Worse was the fact that she was the one who had hurt him.
Her mind ran back over the conversations they’d had recently. The things she’d said. She’d thought only of herself, and how she felt about the twins leaving. The sense of impending loss had enveloped her like a fog obscuring her future.
Because she trusted him implicitly, because they’d been close for so long, had she committed that ultimate and clichéd sin of taking him for granted? Unintentionally, maybe, but yes, she had.