Chapter 8 Then

I believe these are yours." A bag skidded across the kitchen table, stopping right in front of me.

One glance at the folded-up printout stapled to the front of the white packaging and I didn't need to ask why my husband was snarling. Birth control.

I closed my eyes.

Connor had gotten back last night from traveling with his team for a game in Cincinnati. I'd been waiting for the right moment to talk to him about my going back on the pill. Unfortunately, it never came.

I met his icy glare. "I'm sorry. I should've spoken to you about it before now. I just thought—"

Connor interrupted. "That your husband is damaged goods? Not father material?"

"No, that's not it at all." I stood and walked around the table. When I attempted to put my hands on his chest, he took two steps back, out of reach.

"Sure it's not."

"You already have so much pressure. It doesn't seem like it's the right time to add to that with a pregnancy and a newborn baby."

"It's nice of you to decide that for us."

I frowned. "You're right. I'm sorry. I should have had a discussion with you before renewing my prescription. It's just that I got my period last night, and there's only a short window of time to start a new pack, so I called." I was in the wrong here, so I should have stopped at that—an apology and explanation. But something occurred to me, and the question tumbled from my mouth before I could stop it. "Why were you at the pharmacy that you picked up my pills anyway?"

Connor's jaw clenched. "The physical therapist prescribed me a cream for the swelling in my knee. I told you I stopped taking the pain meds last month."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply…"

"Yeah, right." He shook his head and tore his jacket off the back of the chair, storming toward the front door. "Enjoy your pills."

"Where are you going?"

"Anywhere but here."

Even though I'd watched him rip open the door and yank it shut behind him, I jumped when it slammed. I was so on edge these days. My heart constantly raced, and I felt permanently off-kilter. The only time I relaxed was when I was at work and could immerse myself in other people's problems.

I stared at the closed door for a long time, not that I expected Connor to come back. He wouldn't. I'd just given him a new excuse to spend hours at the bar getting drunk. At least today he had a legitimate reason to be upset. Lately, he just picked a fight about anything when I got home from work and then disappeared for hours, coming home smelling like a brewery. Sometimes if I was still awake when he returned, I pretended to be sleeping. The alcohol made him emotional, and he'd come back upset and apologize. Then he'd want to have makeup sex. But his overindulgence often had another effect—the inability to maintain an erection. Which made him angry all over again. It had become a vicious circle I wanted to avoid.

I had a hollow feeling in my stomach as I thought about what my marriage had become in just a few short months. My loving, thoughtful husband had become someone I didn't recognize. Things kept getting worse by the day. Could he really fault me for not wanting to get pregnant right now? Sure, we were a team, and I should have spoken to him. But in the end, it was my decision what to do with my body. Not to mention, I would essentially be raising a child by myself if things kept going the way they'd been. I couldn't leave a child with a drunk man who had anger issues. I might've been wrong to not discuss things with him, but he was responsible for creating the environment that made me feel like I couldn't.

Rather than wallowing any more, I rinsed my coffee mug and decided to take a shower. Maybe I'd take a walk if Connor didn't come back soon. Head to my favorite bookstore. Pick up an overpriced latte, too. Halfway down the hall to the bathroom, I was stopped by a knock at the door.

Maybe Connor forgot his keys?

Maybe he's come back to talk, rather than drown his sorrows?

Maybe there's hope for us after all…

But when I opened the door, my face fell.

"Nice to see you, too," Irina chided. "Jeez. You two are a matching set."

My brows knitted. "Who two?"

"You and Connor." She thumbed over her shoulder. "I just saw him in the lobby. I said hello, but he didn't even hear me. It looked like someone had kicked his dog, and he was on the hunt to find them."

Only it wasn't his dog that had been kicked. It was him. And I'd been the punter.

I sighed. "We had a fight."

Irina rubbed her stomach and shrugged. She was due any day now. "Eh. It happens. I got mad at Ivan last night because he didn't warn me the tir-amisu he brought home tasted sour. I should add that I took it out of the garbage to taste it. I can pick a fight about anything these days."

I chuckled and stepped aside. "Come in. I think you're just what I need right now."

She held up a finger. "Not so fast. Do you have Nutella?"

"I think so. Connor loves it on toast."

"All right. I'll grace you with my presence, then."

Irina and I went into the kitchen. I found the Nutella in a cabinet and pulled a loaf of bread from the drawer.

"No bread necessary." Irina waved me off. "Just a spoon, please."

I smiled. "Sure."

She scooped out a heaping spoonful and spoke with her mouth full. "So what's going on with you and Mr. Cranky Pants?"

I sighed. "I did something stupid."

She shrugged. "So? He's a man. I'm sure he does stupid shit all the time. It's much cheaper when we mess up. If Ivan gets in trouble, I get jewelry. If I screw up, he gets a blowie. Just toss a pillow on the floor for your knees, and say you're sorry into the microphone."

If only it were that easy. I shook my head. "We're really struggling lately. It feels like Connor is angry all the time."

"Of course he is. He's terrified that he's never going to get to play again. Hockey is all these guys have known since they were three years old. Remember when Ivan had to have surgery a few years ago? He took a stick to the neck six months before our wedding."

"He had spinal profusion, right?"

She nodded. "We fought so much that I called off the wedding twice. I never let on to anyone how bad things got."

"Really?"

She shoveled another spoonful of Nutella into her mouth. "Their selfhood is so wrapped up in playing that they go through a sort of identity crisis. I remember I suggested we postpone the wedding so he could focus on recovery. Ivan thought I was postponing because I might not want to marry him anymore since there was a chance he'd never play again. Anything I said or did was turned into me not wanting to be with him. I couldn't make him believe otherwise, because he didn't believe in himself anymore."

That sounded very familiar.

"But things got better, obviously?"

Irina nodded. "It took a while. Ivan went to a very dark place for a few months. I wasn't sure we'd make it. But things got better with time. I'd like to say it was something I said or did that made it better. But he had to find it within himself." She reached across the table and patted my hand. "Connor will find his way. And you two will once again be the couple that makes everyone else question whether they're really happy in their own relationship. Trust me. He'll figure it out."

I wanted to believe she was right. But something in my gut told me there was more to Connor's problems than an identity crisis and some self-doubt.

The next afternoon, I had an hour break between patients, so I went out to get some fresh air and pick up lunch.

"They didn't have rye bread." I fished my assistant Sarah's sandwich out of the brown paper bag and set it on her desk. "So I got you multigrain instead."

"Thanks." She smiled and motioned toward my office door. "You have someone waiting for you."

"Mrs. Trenka is this early?"

"Nope. A certain hot hockey player is waiting." She picked up her earbuds and pushed one into her ear with a wink. "I'll be listening to music while I eat. Very loudly. So I won't hear a thing."

Good, then you won't hear us arguing. Connor and I hadn't spoken since last night, when he'd come home drunk and belligerent, still upset about the birth control. He'd been passed out on the couch when I left for work this morning.

The smell of fresh flowers hit me as soon as I opened my office door. But the visual was the real gut punch. Connor was sitting at my desk, his hands wrapped around the largest bouquet of hydrangeas I'd ever seen. He stood, and my heart squeezed. My beautiful man looked beautifully broken, sadness and pain etched into deep lines that hadn't been there only a few months ago.

We'd both said hurtful things last night, but none of that was important at the moment. I went to him, cupping his cheeks in my hands and wanting to do anything to take away his pain. Tears welled in my eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry, too."

"I should've never made the decision to go back on the pill without discussing it with you."

He shook his head. "You were right to do it. I'm not in any condition to be a father. I'm a fucking mess, Mer."

"No, you're not. You just need to believe in yourself. I know in my heart you're going to get back on the ice, but even if you don't, we'll figure it out. Together."

Connor looked down for a long time. When he met my eyes again, he swallowed. "You were right. The painkillers were making things worse. I didn't stop taking them when I said I did a few weeks ago. But I'm done now. I had a few left, and I dumped them down the sink this morning. I'm also going to ease up on the drinking."

Tears streamed down my face. "You're getting stronger every day. You need to believe in yourself, Connor. You can do this. I know you can."

He nodded. "We can do this. We'll do it together."

Relief flooded me as I threw my arms around his neck, hugging him as tightly as I could. We stayed that way for a long time. After we finally let go, we shared my lunch and enjoyed each other's company for the first time in what felt like forever. He left only because my next patient arrived.

The rest of the afternoon, everything seemed a little lighter, a little brighter. After two months of dreading going home, I was actually looking forward to finishing up and seeing my husband after my last patient of the day left.

"Anything we need to talk about?" I pulled on my coat and spoke to Sarah in the waiting room.

She smiled. "Someone is in a rush tonight."

"Connor is making me dinner."

"Enjoy. I'm just going to finish up this letter to an insurance company and then I'm right behind you."

"Good. Enjoy your night, Sarah."

"Oh, wait. Did you leave the prescription for Mr. Mankin? He's going down to Florida to take care of his mom for a month because she's having some surgery. He needs a paper script to fill down there when he runs out in a few weeks. Dumb insurance won't let him fill it this early. Not sure if you saw my note in your messages. He called earlier to say he would pick it up first thing tomorrow."

"Shoot. Yes, I did see the note. But I totally forgot. Thanks for the reminder. Let me write it now in case he comes in before I get here." I set my purse on Sarah's desk and went back into my office to grab my prescription pad. But when I opened my top right drawer, the place where I always kept it, it wasn't there. I pushed around some papers. Not finding it, I checked the other drawers.

"Sarah?" I yelled. "Have you seen my prescription pad?"

"Last time I saw it, it was in the top right drawer."

I pulled it out farther this time and rummaged through again. No luck.

Sarah walked into my office. "Did you find it?"

"No."

"Maybe you used the last one?"

An ominous feeling washed over me as I remembered my husband sitting within arm's reach just hours earlier. "Umm… Yeah, that must be it."