Brain Damage by Freida McFadden

Author:Freida McFadden [McFadden, Freida]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime, Fiction, Medical, Murder, Mystery, Suspense, Thriller
ISBN: 9781532902949
Publisher: Hollywood Upstairs Publishing
Published: 2016-04-28T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 33

Eleven Months Before

Clark has been really stressed out lately about his new practice. He’s got a few cases now that aren’t going great, and he’s been putting in a lot of hours. Clark stressed out is not pleasant, as I found out. He just paces around the house and snaps at me whenever I try to talk to him. With the amount of pacing he’s done in the last few weeks, he’s probably paced the equivalent of a marathon.

And our sex life has pretty much dwindled to zip. I guess Clark used up all his energy with pacing.

I think the two of us both needed a break from the pacing, so we decided to take a night out to unwind. Clark somehow got us reservations at a swanky restaurant called WD 50, which specializes in something called molecular gastronomy. I don’t entirely know what that means, but Clark is eating something called a deconstructed Eggs Benedict. I’m eating shrimp grits. Not shrimp and grits, just shrimp grits. Basically, it’s grits made out of shrimp, with pickled jalapeño and bright shreds of green onion. It’s amazing, actually.

I haven’t decided whether or not it’s a good thing that we’ve only just received our main course and Clark is on his fourth glass of wine. I’m glad he is loosening up a bit, but this might be a little bit too much loosening up. Also, he’s looking for our waiter to get a refill.

“This was a great idea, Charlotte,” Clark says, as he downs the last few drops of pinot noir.

“Well, you were the one who got us reservations,” I point out.

Clark winks at me. “Very true.”

I take his hand across the table. He holds my hand for a moment then goes back to eating. “I think you’re too wrapped up in your practice,” I tell him. “Maybe there are some other things you can think about instead.”

“Maybe.” Clark shrugs. He picks up my glass of wine (my first) and steals a sip. “What sorts of things? Were you thinking about a trip somewhere?”

“Not exactly,” I say. I take a deep breath. “I was thinking maybe we could start trying for a baby.”

Clark starts to choke on my wine. A few droplets of purple end up on his white shirt. “A baby? Now? Are you out of your mind?”

“Clark, I’m thirty-six years old,” I remind him. God, I sound just like Bridget. Oh well. “When am I supposed to have a baby if not now?”

“I didn’t even think you wanted a baby,” Clark says shaking his head. “You’re so caught up in work. When would you even have time?”

I wince. In previous relationships, men had always complained that I was too caught up with work. Clark had never said anything like that to me before. He had always seemed thrilled that I had a job that I loved.

“We could hire a nanny,” I say. “And I can cut back on work a little bit.”

Clark shakes his head again. “How are we supposed to afford that?”

“I’ve got enough savings,” I say.

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