27. Tabby

TWENTY-SEVEN

TABBY

T he opening of Tabby Cat was as stressful as any other leap off a tall building. Nate had been spending a lot of nights there, making sure everything ran as smoothly as possible.

Unlike the day Genevieve gave birth, which did not go as planned, between her water breaking in the car and Dylan getting pulled over for speeding. Though the officer had let him go when he realized what was happening, it had, according to Gen, put Dylan in a foul enough mood that he shouted at everyone to help Gen anytime she whimpered in pain. It was a long labor, but their baby finally made his appearance at the end of September. They named him Bennet, but apparently, Gen had to be talked down from naming him after some character in a fantasy romance novel she loved. Though he was a Matthews, the little guy looked like a Kozlowski through and through, with big blue eyes and a full head of wavy chocolate-brown hair.

The day we went to meet him, George in tow, Dylan playfully complained about how much his son looked like Nate, but the love and support between the two men was obvious. Especially when they both held their babies in their arms, talking by themselves in the corner, so Gen and I could swoon over them.

But as September slipped into October, I could tell something was bothering Nate. He had been quieter than usual, lost in his own thoughts even when we were together. At first, I figured it was just stress from the restaurant opening, but even as Tabby Cat thrived, he remained distracted.

There were moments of levity, like when we finally settled on our Halloween costumes, George as a cow with Nate and me as farmers, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes as it normally did.

After we finished our pumpkin carving, I took George up to feed him and put him to bed while Nate cleaned up the kitchen, and I spent that hour contemplating what I would say to him. Contrary to my sarcasm and quick comebacks, I was actually terrible with confrontation. I had trouble expressing my emotions and telling people how they might have been hurting me. It was why I had hated living in the house with my dad and Beth, and why it had gotten even worse after he died. I couldn’t properly get my points across. I couldn’t verbally defend myself to her. I cracked way too easily. And then later with Danny, we were terrible at communication, neither of us capable of talking about our grief with each other. There was never going to be a happy ending for us after our baby died. It just wasn’t possible when we were so inept.

But I wanted to do better now.

I had to in order to keep our family healthy and whole.

Nate and George were my happy ending, and I was determined to keep it that way.

I found Nate sitting at the kitchen table, Lucy in his lap as he typed something on his phone. I walked over, making my entrance obvious with noise. I didn’t want to scare him like I sometimes did by accident, and I wanted to let him know that I had a purpose.

He glanced over as I pulled out a chair, the legs scraping on the floor, mumbling a “Hey.”

I set my chin in my palm. “Thanks for cleaning up.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, attention on his phone. “You don’t need to thank me.”

I watched him for a few seconds, tension crawling up my spine. “It feels like I do need to.”

He set his phone facedown on the table and paid me his full attention. “Need to what?”

“Thank you.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

I bit my lip, still unsure how to start, afraid to stumble. “I feel the need to thank you for everything you’re doing.”

He shook his head, obviously confused.

“You know…how you take care of the house and me and Frog. I… Thank you.”

He threw his attention out to the window, the dark night sky illuminated by a few stars. It was after ten, and by now, I was usually in bed with my pajamas on, but I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t pretend like I didn’t know something was wrong.

I set both of my hands on the table, picking at my chipped purple nail polish. “Is everything okay? I know the restaurant has kept you busy, but you seem…off lately.”

Still keeping his gaze outside, he combed his fingers through his hair a few times then scratched at his beard. Any other time, I would follow with my fingers since I loved the sounds the short bristles made, how it felt against my fingertips, but I didn’t dare right now. Merely waited.

He eventually exhaled audibly and brought his eyes to mine once again. “I guess… You know it really bothers me when you say thank you. I cleaned up the kitchen because our kitchen needed to be cleaned up, not because it’s some gift to you.”

I swallowed thickly, a foreboding feeling clawing at my throat, smothering my words. When I didn’t reply, he shook his head, sighing quietly. “It’s not…” He dug into his hair again. “Listen, I love you. I love you, and I know sometimes stuff is hard for you. I get it. I really do, but…”

“But what?” I asked so softly I almost didn’t hear it myself.

“You never talk to me.”

I furrowed my brow in confusion. “What do you mean? We talk all the time.”

“No, I mean really open up. Share what you’re thinking and feeling.”

My unease began to curdle into defensiveness. “I do. I try.”

He leaned forward, his elbows thumping on the table as if tired. “I tell you I love you all the time, but you never say it back. You never initiate it. So you thanking me for cleaning the kitchen makes me feel like shit.”

My jaw dropped. “How does it make you feel like shit? I’m trying to show my appreciation.”

“Because, Tab.” He huffed and nudged Lucy off his lap, strain filling his body. My golden retriever turning Doberman. “It’s not enough. That’s not what I want.”

“What do you want?” I searched the kitchen as if I could find the answer among the appliances. “I don’t understand.”

“I want you to tell me you love me,” he said, his voice raised slightly like he’d been waiting to tell me that. “It’s really starting to bother me. I tell you all the time. I try to show you. I know you need people to be there for you. You need people to be physically around you. I understand that, and I love it.” He pressed his hands to his chest. “I love giving you what you need, but it feels like you aren’t even trying to give me what I need.”

My jaw flapped up and down. “I…”

“Even now, you can’t do it,” he went on, waving his hand in my direction. “I’ve been so patient because I love you, and I’ve told you over and over and showed you. I know it’s hard for you, and I know it’s taken so much for you to open up the way you have with me already, but goddamn, I love you. I need to hear it. I need to hear those words. I love you .”

His shoulders curled as if it had taken everything out of him to get all that out in one breath, and maybe it had, yet I couldn’t help the trace of resentment that coiled in my belly. How long had he been feeling like this? How long had he been “patient” with me? I knew he didn’t mean it to come off like condescension, but that was what it felt like. Like he was the perfect one, and I wasn’t. He’d been doing everything right, and I’d been taking advantage of him.

That was why I thanked him for doing the dishes. Because some people didn’t feel the need to be so supportive. Some men let their wives and girlfriends do everything. Some fathers took no responsibility. But Nate did, and, yes, I appreciated and loved him, and I tried to show him. Maybe not with words but with time we spent together, in the nights I stayed awake until he returned home, in the texts I sent him checking in, the ways I touched him, cuddled him. Still, he made me feel like I wasn’t doing enough when I’d had a baby three months ago, no matter that we weren’t even talking about George.

“I’m sorry,” I said, not sounding at all apologetic. “I didn’t realize you were so needy.”

As soon as the words were out, I wanted to suck them back in. I hadn’t even thought of them; they’d just tumbled out, my mind all over the place. The fear I’d long since hoped to overcome still clung onto my heart, never letting me fully give myself to the one person I should.

“I’m needy?” Nate spat. “The guy you said you appreciated so much not even five minutes ago? He’s the needy one? Not you ?”

I hung my head, my words and thoughts all jumbled together, so much that I couldn’t reply.

“I might be the needy one, but at least I’m not so fucking frigid all the time.”

I winced, reeling back in my chair like he’d slapped me.

Of course, he hadn’t, but I teared up, nonetheless.

Nate frowned, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

I nodded and pulled the sleeves of my sweatshirt over my hands to dab at my eyes. After everything, I still didn’t want to seem weak. Even if he was the one who made me feel that way.

“I just wanted to talk,” I murmured, voice cracking.

Next to me, he took a few deep breaths, stretching his hand out to curl around my neck. “I know. I think… I’m really stressed, and I don’t want to keep having this conversation right now. I don’t want us to keep saying things we don’t mean. I need to go to Walt’s, and we can talk later tonight or tomorrow. Okay?”

It wasn’t okay, but I nodded anyway.

Then he stood, gathered his cell phone, keys, and wallet, and headed out the door without so much as a backward glance.