Four_Stories of Marriage by Nia Forrester

Author:Nia Forrester [Forrester, Nia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-10-22T05:00:00+00:00

Letting himself into the apartment, Brendan was assailed with the scent of lemon and vanilla, and suddenly was transported back to the second trimester of Tracy’s pregnancy. She was sensitive to smells then, and everything from Brendan’s cologne, to the bath soap they used and even the aroma of coffee in the morning made her ill. The only smells that didn’t were vanilla and lemon.

Brendan forgot how they’d discovered that, but once they had, Riley and Tracy had gone to an upscale decorating store where the candles were made only from natural scents and bought what Brendan thought had to be their entire stock of lemon and vanilla-scented candles. Every evening when he got home, this smell—the one he was surrounded by right now—had greeted him. He had joked at the time that after the baby was born he would never be able to drink another glass of lemonade or stand the sight of a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

“Trace!”

Calling out to her, he shed his suit jacket and tossed it over the back of an armchair.

Moments later, he heard Tracy up above in the loft, and then she was coming down, taking the steps slowly, like someone on their way to a place they’d rather not go. She was wearing jeans, rolled to capri length, and a white shirt so long it resembled a tunic, that Brendan recognized as one of his. Her feet were bare, and her hair loose, and cascading over her shoulders.

When she was closer, he saw that her eyes were rimmed in pink, and recalled her sniffles on the other end of the line during their call.

“Tracy,” he said, when she was standing almost directly in front of him. “What’re we doin’? What’re you …?”

Her face crumpled a little, as though she might begin to cry again but she pulled herself up and took a deep breath.

“I could have done without hearing about Layla’s meltdown,” she said. “I didn’t need to know that.”

“Yeah, you did. Because actions have consequences, Tracy. And you’re always doing this … going off on some, I don’t even know what to call it … and not thinking about …”

“So, you call your mother, Brendan?”

“What else was I supposed to do? You spring on me at five o’clock on a Sunday that you’re going on … strike or some shit when you know I have work the next day?” He stopped himself before he went further and took a deep breath. “Look. I just want to know what’s going on. You can’t seriously be this mad because I smoked a little weed at the club. Mad enough to leave me and Layla?”

“I’m not leaving you and Layla. I’m just taking some time. I just need …” She broke off and shook her head.

“What?” he asked, frustrated. “What do you need?”

Tracy tried to turn away from him, but Brendan held her by the shoulders, so she would look at him. And the moment he touched her, she was crying again.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” she said through her tears.

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