The Love Affair

Chapter Eighteen

To say that I was a little uneased was an understatement. I couldn't entirely swallow the truth.

I headed through the threshold, still mute as I had been on the journey back home, after that eventful evening spent with my parents. Nick had drove us back, unsuspicious that my deliberate quietness was because I was trying to understand and work things out over in my mind. Nick wanted children. He was ready. I could have only been thankful that the radio was on and drowned out any thoughts he might have in question to my absence of communication.

Dropping my hand bag onto the side board, I began to slip off my black heels, convinced that a glass of red wine would satisfy my anxiety, or perhaps my vexation. Nick was behind me, I could sense this even before he placed the car keys into the ceramic bowl, and then placed a hand onto my shoulder. I flinched, clearing my throat as I ignored the apparent coldness, I could only suspect my husband felt.

"Rose? Is everything okay?" he asked, following me as I carried on into the kitchen. My hands immediately picked up the bottle of red wine left on the side of the kitchen counter, as I continued to ignore Nick and pour myself a healthy dollop of the stuff into a wine glass.

"Rose," he reiterated, grasping his hand over mine. His brows furrowed together as I engulfed back the lot, feeling the sweet kiss slither down the back of my throat. His concern was alarmed as he snatched the wine bottle from me before I could attempt to pour another amount. "What is wrong with you, Rose!" he snapped, his annoyance heightening the tension.

"Just give me it back, Nick," I sighed, holding out my hand.

"No," he refused, shaking his head as he placed the wine bottle as far from my reach, before crossing his arms. "I want to know what's got into you. You were all fine this evening and now you're acting bizarre. What's going on Rose?"

"It—doesn't matter," I argued, "just give me the bottle back."

"No. Why are you acting like this? Did I say something wrong earlier? What the fuck has gotten into you?" he said angrily, his eyes pinpointing onto me and watching me like a hawk as I got up off the kitchen stool and stalked towards the door to the conservatory. "Rose. Talk to me. What's going on with---"

"---Just stop, Nick," I yelled, holding my hands in the air. "I just wanted a drink, okay?"

"No, no." He shook his head. "The Rose I know doesn't desperately cling onto drinking randomly. You're upset about something. So, just tell me, Rose. I'm your husband, we're supposed to be a team." Nick headed around the kitchen island, heading towards me as he held his hands out in comfort. I was backed up by the door, looking spitefully towards them as I felt my bottom lip tremble.

"Please," he said softly, "what's up?"

I felt my lungs gasp for air as a biting croak fled my lips. "I-I'm just pissed off, okay?" I felt tears meandering down my cheeks and felt that vulnerability consume me within its arms as Nick stood there, patiently.

"Why?"

"Because---because, you've never wanted to speak about children! Never! Anytime, I've bought it up, you just roll up into a ball and refuse to give thought on the topic. And—and, now!" I glared at him. "You've suddenly decided that you want kids? Nick, do you know how much that hurt to hear you say that tonight? And in front of my parents before we've even talked about it properly?" I was feeling angry, hurt, but more importantly I knew that my anger towards Nick was only the shame I felt for myself. The thought in the back of my mind reminding me that I was cheating on Nick and the thought of him fathering my children was far from my mind. I knew the display of vexation was meant for me.