Making Me Sane (Sanity Book 2) (28 page)

“I’m assuming everything is going well with your relationship with her?”

“Yeah. Everything is perfect.”

She gives me a soft smile. “Y’all are still in the honeymoon stage of things.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I mean, when I say things are perfect, I don’t mean that nothing bad is happening or that we don’t have disagreements. We could have little arguments, or I could piss her off, and I’d still say things are perfect. She’s with me, she loves me, and she trusts me. Things are perfect.”

“What I meant is that your relationship hasn’t been tested yet. I believe y’all are both fully invested, especially since she’s told you she trusts you, but nothing has happened to really test what y’all have rebuilt.”

With a sigh, I lean back in my seat. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” she asks innocently.

“Try to foreshadow shit. Life can throw whatever the hell it wants to at us and we’ll survive it. It doesn’t matter if it’s a gruesome or dirty fight, as long as we come out on the other end of it.”

“Can I tell you something, Trace?”

“You’re the therapist here.”

She smiles. “I’ve never seen someone who is so willing to fight for their relationship, who is so committed to a person no matter what, who won’t entertain any negative thoughts about what may happen, and who is certain y’all will make it through anything. I hope Brittany is the same way.”

“I think she is.”

“Good. What do you see when you think about the future?”

I shrug. “Simple answer: I see us together.”

“Married?”

“Eventually.”

“Kids?”

“Eventually.”

“And Brittany wants those things, too?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure we’re on the same page.”

“How’s the married life?” I ask Ben Tuesday when we take our lunch together.

He grins. “No complaints so far.”

“How’d y’all’s parents take the news that the two of you eloped?”

His grin fades. “Fine.”

It doesn’t seem like it, but I’m not going to dig further into it. If Ben wants to talk about something, he will.

“Are y’all going on a honeymoon?”

“Yeah, once my bank account has some time to recover from going to Vegas. She wants to go to Fiji.” He shakes his head. “Like, what’s wrong with a beach on our own shore?” he jokes. “But that’s where she wants to go, so once we’ve saved up for it, that’s where we’re headed.”

“Has she moved in with you yet?”

“She was living with me already. Everything was already at my house, except for her furniture. Right now, we’re in a battle of what to keep and what to sell, which is really a battle about who has better shit. She doesn’t want to get rid of any of her stuff, even if mine is better.”

“Good luck with that. It was easy with Brittany because she only had kitchen stuff.”

“We’ll get it figured out.”

The rest of lunch, he tells me about their trip to pick out his wedding band. Melissa didn’t like any he liked and vice versa. It took three stores before they settled on one. The day is long once we return to the office.

As usual, I beat Brittany home. I get started on dinner and play fetch with Lily in the backyard while the casserole is in the oven. Soon, dinner is cooked and Brittany still isn’t home. I check my phone, but there’s no message from her that she’ll be late. I play with Lily while I wait, getting worried once she’s an hour late. I’m about to call her, but then I hear banging or clashing coming from the house. Brittany’s purse is on the floor, its contents scattered on the floor. She has the fridge open, but after she gets a Sun Drop, she slams it closed.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I ask, causing her to whirl around to face me. Her eyes are red and her cheeks are streaked with tears. The can of soda is shaking because her hands are. I go to her and wrap my arms around her. “Britt, what’s wrong?”

The tears she was holding back quickly wet my T-shirt. She’s starting to scare me. I need her to tell me what’s wrong. What happened. But all she can do now is cry. I hold her in my arms and Lily leans against our legs.

“Come on,” I whisper once her crying has calmed some. “Tell me what happened.”

“I’m sorry. I was just freaked out.”

“Why?”

The words start rushing out of her mouth. “There’s a project coming up that my boss thought would be great for me to help on. So, last week, she sent me to work with this guy from another department.” Right. She told me about this because the guy is a flirt. “But today, he was dragging things out and we ended up having to stay late to get the work done, so we were the only ones there. He kept saying these inappropriate things that were making me uncomfortable, and then he kissed me. He was pissed when I pushed him away. There’s still a week left on this project and it could mean a promotion for me. Not to mention, he’s higher up than I am. What am I supposed to do? I can’t...I can’t work with him again.” She pushes away from me and rushes to the trash can to throw up.

Furious doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel. I wish I could fight this battle for her, but it’s not like I can go into her work and do anything. All I can do this second is hold her hair and rub her back. I don’t like seeing her this distressed either.

“Go shower and we’ll talk afterward,” I tell her when she’s done.

She shakes her head. “I don’t want to.”

“What do you want then?”

“I want you and me in the recliner.”

I can’t deny her that. After she comes back from brushing her teeth, we’re situated in my recliner. “You need to report it.”

She groans. “What if I lose my promotion? What if they don’t believe me? You know he’s going to say it never happened.”

“You’ve said yourself your boss is awesome. Tell her. A promotion isn’t worth that.”

“I know. I just hate this entire thing.”

“Are you doing okay? He didn’t try anything else?”

“No. I grabbed my stuff and ran out of the room once I pushed him away. I’m okay, I guess. He just had this lethal look in his eyes, and I was shaken up. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

So, I hold her until she’s hungry. She might not want to talk about it, but she’s still thinking about it. All her anxiety tells are present and in action. At least she seems willing to talk to her boss. I don’t want her working with him any more than she wants to. When she does take a shower, my phone rings with a call from my father.

“Hey, Dad. How’s it going?”

“Good. How are things there?”

“It’s been a rough day here.” I go on to explain what happened with Brittany. “She’s not looking forward to having to tell her boss, but I think she’s going to.”

“Make sure she does, son. No one should have to put up with something like that and she shouldn’t be forced to work with him.”

“That’s basically what I told her.”

“Good.” He tells me more about what’s happening back home and we hang up around the time Brittany comes back from her shower.

“How’s Clark and Amy?” she asks.

“I didn’t hear any complaints or bad news, so they’re doing well.”

“That’s good.” She sits in my lap and I recline us back. “Let’s have lunch tomorrow because I might need you if things go sideways at work.”

“Done. We can go to your favorite fried pickles restaurant.”

“That’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Welcome. I’m sure things will be fine, so try not to worry about it too much, okay?”

She sighs. “I’m trying.”

It’s all I can ask of her, so it’ll have to be good enough. She has trouble sleeping, tossing and turning, and she wakes up only to rush to the bathroom to vomit. I make her take a panic pill to help calm her down. I wish I could go to work with her, but that’s not an option. She’s still a wreck when she leaves for work.

From the time I get to work and until it’s time to meet Brittany for lunch, the clock slows down and drags. I’m standing outside the restaurant, waiting for Brittany who is already five minutes late, when I see her. She’s smiling. Thank god, she’s smiling. My own breath of relief leaves me and I feel the built-up tension leave my body. Maybe I was as stressed out and nervous as she was.

“Good news?” I ask when she reaches me.

“Very good news. Let’s go inside and order and then I’ll tell you all about it.”

We’ve been here so often that the waitress recognizes us. She double checks that we’re not trying anything new today and then puts in our order.

“What happened?” I ask as the waitress walks away.

“Well, I almost chickened out, but my boss called me into her office. She thought I seemed on edge, so she was checking to see that everything was okay. I spilled my guts. Turns out, that’s not the first complaint about him, so he was fired. I’ll be working with someone else for the remainder of the project, so there’s still a chance I can move up the ladder.”

“Told you it would all be fine.”

She rolls her eyes. “That why you were grabbing your neck until you saw me?”

“I still don’t like that I don’t realize I’m doing that until you have to point it out to me.”

“It’s payback for all the times you’d glance at me squeezing my wrist,” she laughs. Her phone buzzes on the table and she sighs. “Looks like it’s time for another lunch with Rebecca.”

“Why do you keep going if you don’t want to?”

“Because she was a good friend in college.” The waitress places our fried pickles on the table, and she immediately plucks one to pop into her mouth.

“Yet she’s a shitty one now.”

“I’m only giving her another chance, and considering she doesn’t reach out often, what can it hurt?”

“I don’t want to hear about you complaining when she does something to piss you off or annoy you then,” I warn her. I’m not sure why, though. Last time, she didn’t want to talk about it and never did, but she was still in a sour mood that I had to deal with.

“You wouldn’t listen to me rant if I needed to?” she asks, sounding completely skeptical.

“Not about her.”

“Yes, you would.”

Maybe I would, but I’m not telling her that.

Today is my thirty-third birthday. Brittany and I are lying in bed, breathing heavy, but completely satisfied. We should get up because we need to start getting ready for work here soon. I glance over at her.

“Was that my birthday present? Can we make that an annual present?” I ask. She woke me up about two seconds before she lowered her mouth on my favorite body part. Just when I thought I couldn’t take much more, she stopped to lower herself on me. Surprise morning sex on my birthday might just be my new favorite thing in the world.

Brittany laughs. “It was one of your presents, and maybe. No promises.”

“We need to get up.”

She flings the covers off of her and onto me, getting out of bed. “Then let’s get it over with. By the way, once you turn forty, I’ll officially call you old just because I can.”

“Just know that it’ll return twofold once you get that old, so you may want to extend it to like eighty or ninety,” I call after her, making her laugh.

This is the first birthday in a while that I’ve spent with someone. After work, we’re going out with Ben and Melissa to eat and then it’ll be bowling time. It should be fun. What I know at this point is that all my birthdays should start this way. While Brittany is in the shower, I get a phone call from Dad and Amy, who sing “Happy Birthday” to me.

After my shower, I come out of the bathroom to find Brittany is sitting on the bed with a large rectangular present in front of her. “What you should know about me is that I’m a terrible, uncreative gift giver,” she starts. “I think you’ll like it, but overall, it might be a crummy gift, which is part of the reason I woke you up like I did. Remember that if you’re bummed by my gift.”

“I’m sure that whatever it is, I’ll love it.” I lean down to give her a quick kiss. “I’m assuming I get to open it now?”

“Yes.”

I rip the wrapping paper and smile when I see what she got me—new kitchenware by a famous chef. I’ve been wanting to get myself a set, but haven’t gotten around to it.

“Well? Do you like it? You talk about it every time we go to the grocery store, so I figured it’d be a good gift. Ben and Melissa told me gifts were overrated and I should just give you sex, but that didn’t seem right, so I had to get you something. You’re disappointed, aren’t you?”