The Christmas Sisters. Sarah Morgan
Читать онлайн книгу.
“—but it got me thinking about you. About us, and our future.”
The vague feeling of resentment floated away, leaving warmth in its place.
“I’ve been thinking about us, too.” She took a mouthful of wine. “There’s something I need to say to you, and I’d like you to hear me out before you speak. We talked about it a while ago, but not recently.” Nerves fluttered in her stomach. She had no idea what his reaction was going to be.
“Stop.” Jason reached out and covered her hand with his. “I know what you’re about to say.”
“You do?”
“Yes. It didn’t seem worth mentioning again when the girls were little and such a handful, but they’re older now and you have more time on your hands.”
It hadn’t occurred to her that this might be easy. “You’ve been thinking about it, too?”
“It’s perfect timing for our family.” He went back to his food. “This is delicious, by the way. You’re a great cook, Beth. In fact, you’re great at pretty much everything.”
Did he realize exactly what it would entail? “If we did this, I’d be under a lot more pressure. I thought perhaps your mother might help out. And you’d have to help more. You wouldn’t mind?”
“We’re a team, Beth. And of course my mother will help. Try keeping her away. She’ll be as excited as I am.” He helped himself to more rice. “The timing of these things is never perfect, but this is about as perfect as it gets. We should go for it.”
She felt a rush of elation.
She should have talked to him sooner. She should have mentioned how lonely she was, and how she’d felt her skills and confidence slowly draining away. She was touched that he’d noticed she needed more. “How would this fit with your promotion?”
“Sam knows the score. I’m a father. Sometimes I need to be there for my family. I can juggle work and home. I’ve been doing it for years. It’s one of the reasons I wouldn’t leave the company. It has a great culture.”
Was juggling the right word? She knew that for her to work, too, they were going to need to display more juggling skills than a circus performer.
“It’s going to be a big change for us as a family, but I know we can make this work. I’m excited.”
“Me, too. I love you, baby.”
“I love you, too.” Tears stung her eyes. She was so very lucky to be married to him. “Do you think the girls will be okay with it? I feel guilty.” She was desperate for reassurance that she wasn’t a bad mother. “I’m worried they’ll think they’re not enough.”
“It will be great for the girls. So they’ll have a little less of you…” He reached for his wine and shrugged. “Quality, not quantity, right?”
Beth shifted in her seat.
Did the girls have quality?
There were days when she felt the best she achieved was to hold it all together, but right now she was feeling too euphoric to indulge in a session of maternal self-flagellation.
Jason stood up and cleared the plates, and she followed him into the kitchen and fetched dessert.
Was it too late to call Kelly back tonight?
“I need to arrange a time to go and meet them. Is there a day this week that you could work from home?”
He piled the plates onto the countertop above the dishwasher. “Meet who?”
“The team.” Beth carried dessert to the table. Instead of the frothy, extravagant offering she’d planned for Hannah, she’d baked plums in rum and brown sugar. Normally she was careful with dessert, but she’d managed to convince herself this was fruit.
“You want to see someone before you’re even pregnant?” Jason sat down again. “Is that usual?”
Beth stared at him. “What?”
Jason spooned plums into the deep-sided white bowls that had been a gift from his mother the previous Christmas. “I guess it never hurts to have a doctor check you out. You do look pretty tired. Maybe you’re anemic. But if you’re seeing someone, I want to come with you. I want to be there for you.” He pushed the plums toward her. “Aren’t you having any? Or are you already off alcohol?”
Beth felt as if she’d stepped off a cliff. Her stomach swooped and her head spun. “Pregnant? What are you talking about?”
Jason froze, the spoon in his hand suspended in midair. “Having another baby. What were you talking about?”
“Work.” Her throat was dry. The situation should have been comical, but she’d never felt less like laughing. Another baby? The thought of it made her heart pound with panic.
There was a long, loaded silence. “Work?”
Beth sat down hard on the chair. “Yes. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. That’s what I thought I was talking to you about.”
The spoon clattered back into the serving dish, spattering juice and rum. Neither noticed. “I thought you were talking about growing our family. Having more kids.”
“Jason, the last thing I want is more kids. How could you even think that would be a good idea?” She was almost hyperventilating and Jason looked as stunned as she felt, although for different reasons apparently.
“But we adore the girls.” He sounded bemused.
“Of course we do. I’m not saying I don’t love the children. I’m saying I can’t handle more.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re incredible. I mean, look at this—” He waved his hand in the general direction of the table and the kitchen. “You’ve been with them all day and you still manage to produce this. You’re a superstar.”
“Let me rephrase, Jason—I don’t want to handle more. At least, not more parenting. I want to go back to work. I want more from life than domestic grind.”
The warmth in his eyes was replaced by hurt. “I didn’t realize the girls and I came under the heading of ‘domestic grind.’”
How had this conversation gone downhill so fast?
It was like watching a spool of thread unravel, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop it.
“It’s tough being at home with kids all the time, Jason.”
“I know you work hard.” His jaw was set. Rigid. The way it always was when they had difficult conversations. “We both work hard.”
“This isn’t a competition. It’s not about agreeing who works hardest. The difference is that you’re doing what you love, while I’m losing every skill I ever had.”
He stood up so suddenly the chair crashed to the floor.
Beth was on her feet in an instant. “You’ll wake the girls and it will take ages to settle them again.”
“And that would be bad, wouldn’t it,” he said, “because you’ve had enough of them for one day?”
The injustice of his words stung. She knew she wasn’t doing a good job of explaining how she felt, but she also knew he wasn’t really listening. He was thinking about his own feelings, not hers. “I love the girls, and you know it.”
“We talked about having three kids. Maybe even four.”
“That was before we had any. I didn’t realize how much of me they’d consume.”
“Consume? You make them sound like monsters.”
“No! I—” How could she make him understand? No matter how many different ways she phrased it,