10. Soundtrack lonely silence

CHAPTER 10

SOUNDTRACK: LONELY SILENCE

On the night after the next Christmas, Nicolette stands at the counter of the guesthouse on her father’s estate, pouring herself a glass of sparkling water. It’s already eleven thirty, and all the lights are out at the main house up the hill. It’s so quiet that she can hear every little crackle of the fire in the fireplace.

With her soda in hand, she returns to the sofa in front of the fire. A book by Stephen King is waiting for her. This one is called End of Watch . It’s pretty dark, which suits her mood right now. It’s hard to stare your troubled marriage in the eye when you’re worrying about an antagonist’s supernatural talents.

Once again, she bought the book for herself. Her father and stepmother only gift her things that they wished she liked, and books aren’t Cam’s style. He likes to make splashier gestures—like jewelry and lingerie. Or once, a new car.

It’s so quiet that she can hear the bubbles in her soda and the dry sound when she turns a page. Usually, she’s a fan of silence. But tonight, she just can’t settle.

She and Cam have been fighting again. He’s been depressed and anxious ever since losing his bid for congress. And his favorite coping mechanism seems to be picking fights over nothing. He doesn’t like her choice of restaurants or vacations. She takes up too much of the closet with her clothes .

It’s all picky stuff, except for his favorite complaint. You work too much .

It’s probably true. Her job is the best thing in her life right now. Her marriage is rocky, and she still can’t get pregnant, although they’re officially seeking treatment for infertility.

The specialist says she doesn’t ovulate as regularly as some women. But part of the problem also lies with Cam’s sperm count, and he’s become very touchy about it.

Nicolette understands. Having a low sperm count doesn’t exactly reinforce a guy’s manliness. But the issue of their infertility has become a festering wound in their marriage. Instead of bringing them together as a team, it’s the crackling tension that underlies every little decision.

She takes a sip of her soda and turns another page. To mark her place in the book, she’s using Damien’s business card. She found it here in the guesthouse when they’d arrived for Christmas a few days ago.

It’s not like she thinks of Damien all the time. But the holidays are an exception. As soon as string lights appear all over New England, she thinks of riding along with him after a flight to Vermont. It was once a tradition—like putting up the tree or making gingerbread.

She wonders whether he went Christmas shopping on Church Street again this year, and whether he thought of her at all.

Once—after they’d had coffee together—she’d actually dreamed about Damien. It was a sex dream, set in the backseat of his Jeep. So ridiculous.

Still, she keeps the business cards. Because you never know when someone will need a taxi. And a crush remains a crush for a reason—it’s low-stakes. A crush doesn’t have to stand the tests of marriage and commitment. A crush has never eaten the last cookie and left his plate in the sink for you to rinse.

A crush has never gotten so drunk on date night that you tipped the waiter a hundred extra dollars as compensation for his rudeness.

A crush never stopped speaking to you for a week after you got your period again.

She holds the card by its edges and studies the drawing for the hundredth time, admiring the clean lines of the car and the jolly shape of its headlights.

The kitchen door opens suddenly. “ Nicolette! ” Cam bellows.

Guilty, she shoves the card into the book and closes the cover. “In the living room!” She’s surprised that Cam has returned home after going for drinks somewhere with Rick Bellamy. She’d assumed he’d end up crashing at the Bellamy house, like he often does.

“Nicolette!” he calls again. “Help me make an ice pack?”

Ice pack? What the…? She tosses the book aside and hurries into the little kitchen. “God, Cam! What happened?” His eye is swelled shut.

“Bar fight,” he says, struggling against the sleeves of his jacket. And losing.

“Let me get that.” She eases the jacket off his body. “What happened?”

“Some asshole just wanted a fight, I guess, and I was convenient. At least I got one good punch in.”

She grabs his hands and inspects them for damage. There isn’t any, thank goodness. “Did you call the cops?”

He gives his head a drunken shake. “And there’s no point. Guy was a townie. He was friends with the bartender, and I’m a flatlander, you know?”

She does know. Sometimes there’s tension between the weekend people and the real Vermonters. And, well, sometimes Cam acts like an entitled nightmare and makes everything worse. But that doesn’t mean they can punch him.

“Are you hurt anywhere else? It’s not too late to call the police.” She gets ice from the dispenser in the fridge and rolls the ice cubes inside a clean dish towel. She offers it to Cam. “I wish we had some frozen peas. I could look in Veronica’s kitchen.” She glances over to the main house, which is dark and silent.

“This is fine,” he grunts, carefully applying her homemade ice pack to his face. “Veronica doesn’t seem like the type to have peas in her freezer.”

This is probably true. “But you’re going to have a shiner. How did you even get home? ”

“Bellamy drove me. We’ll have to pick up the car in the morning.”

“Okay,” she agrees quickly. “No problem. I could call the taxi service…”

“No,” he barks. “I’ll ask your dad. He won’t mind.”

“Okay,” she says again. She takes Cam’s handsome face in two hands and studies it. “Your nose looks okay. It’s just the eye.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, looking into her eyes. “I know I don’t deserve you.”

Her heart softens, and she gives his chin a stroke with her thumb. All she ever wanted was for him to look at her just like he’s doing now. Thoroughly, and tenderly. “It’s okay, Cam. You’ll look like Rocky for a few days, but everything is going to be fine.”

He gives her a tiny smile, with more humility than she’s seen on his face in… well, ever. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she says. And right this second, she really means it.