Page 10 of Falling for the Unexpected

Chapter 3

Simone

The bed dipped down as Brad climbed in, rousing me from my sleep. I glanced briefly at the clock where the huge red numbers informed me that it was two in the morning. Since that night a couple weeks ago, Brad had been spending even less time at home, often not coming home at all. The first few times, I’d texted him, worried that something bad had happened to him. He took that opportunity to accuse me of trying to control him. He reminded me that he was an adult and didn’t answer to anyone. So even though I had been genuinely concerned, I stopped texting him after that. I really didn’t mind when he wasn’t home because it meant I was able to relax and not worry that I would inadvertently piss him off.

“Hey, are you just getting in?” I asked sleepily.

Brad huffed in irritation. “Yeah, I went out with some friends after work. Is there a problem?” he asked, while arranging his pillows.

Why he continually sounded angry when I asked him anything had always been baffling but now it was starting to grate on me. I constantly felt on edge around him and I was wondering why I even bothered anymore. A thought I had been having a lot lately.

A couple weeks ago, he’d told me that I had no right asking him where he was or who he was hanging out with. When I’d reminded him that I was his wife and that most married couples shared basic information with each other, he’d laughed and then left the apartment and didn’t come back for two days.

Brad treated his parents the same way. If they said anything to him that he perceived as negative he would stop talking to them. Even though he treated them poorly, they continued to do everything in their power to help us out. And while I didn’t know for sure, I suspected they had recently started giving Brad money since ours seemed to never last as long as it should. I hoped he wasn’t wasting his paycheck on going out with the boys instead of paying for his part of the bills.

I rolled away from him, wanting to go back to sleep. “I don’t have a problem, I was just asking,” I said, tiredly. It was obvious he was wound up and I didn’t have the energy or desire to engage with him.

“Well, why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use instead of asking me questions,” he taunted.

The idea of sex with him held no appeal whatsoever. The thought of Brad ever touching me again made me want to run away from this room, from him.

I thought about the two reasons Brad had stayed in this marriage. First, he didn’t want to look like a deadbeat dad, even though he wasn’t very involved with Stella. And second, he had easy access to sex. Not that we had sex often anymore, not like before when we both got something out of it and it’d been fun. After having Stella, my body had changed and I was curvier than I used to be when we’d first met. Brad commented on those changes often and could be rather critical of my appearance. I couldn’t deny it’d slowly eaten away at my self-confidence. I tried to ignore his negative comments and I did my best to look good for him, but my priority was our daughter, not making sure I looked like a model at all times.

All pretenses of being romantic had disappeared even before we’d gotten married. For the past year or so, he would simply tell me what he expected, and he was either happy when I complied or angry if I wasn’t in the mood.

“Not tonight, Brad,” I said when he prompted me again. I was already worn out by this conversation. “Stella had a rough day and I’m exhausted. I had just fallen asleep when you came in here.”

“Why do you always have to be such a bitch, Simone? When I first met you, we had sex all the time. You were a lot more fun and adventurous. Now it’s a huge production just to get a fucking blowjob,” he accused, the agitation in his voice clear.

I was ready to bring up the last time we had sex and remind him how he had treated me, but honestly, I was tired. Not just in a physical sense, but mentally as well. I didn’t know how much longer I could pretend to be okay with our relationship. Not that I could even call it a relationship. “I’m sorry you’re not happy,” I said instead.

“Yeah, well, you’re always sorry. Don’t know why I bother to come home some nights,” he responded missing the hint of sarcasm in my voice.

I didn’t want to continue this conversation with him. Especially since I knew it would just lead to a fight and nothing would be resolved.

“Hey, let’s both get some sleep, we have your dad’s birthday party tomorrow,” I said, hoping to end on that.

“I’m not going tomorrow,” he stated flatly.

I rolled back over and looked at him with surprise, now wide-awake. “Why not?”

“Because Trent’s going to be there,” he answered, rolling his eyes as though I should have already known that.

“But… it’s your dad’s birthday,” I said slowly, not hiding the disapproval from my voice or face. I wanted to add that tomorrow wasn’t about him and his issues with anybody, but I knew that would piss him off. “Don’t you think you can make peace with your brother for one day?”

“Fuck, Simone!” he shouted. “Just leave it alone, okay? I don’t want to go, end of story.”

I rolled back over, facing the wall, hoping his shouting hadn’t woken up our daughter.

I really wanted to go to Jim’s party as a family, for Jim and Marla’s sake, but I knew it wasn’t likely I’d be able to convince Brad once his mind was set on something. I was going with Stella, no matter what his final decision was because unlike him, I cared about his—my—family.

*****

I spent Saturday morning getting Stella and myself ready for the party while Brad slept in. It had taken a while for him to settle down and finally fall asleep. But all of his tossing and turning had kept me awake.

After I put Stella in a cute pink jumpsuit, I set her up with a few toys in the living room so I could check on the brownies that my father-in-law had requested I bring to the party. Most people wanted to have a cake on their birthday, but Jim loved my homemade brownies and requested that I bake them for every family get-together. I think he was just being nice, but it always lifted my spirits a little.

“When are you leaving?” Brad asked, causing me to jump at his sudden appearance. His hair was sticking up at odd angles and he was still in his flannel pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. The scruff on his jaw was getting darker and thicker. His bloodshot eyes scanned the kitchen until they landed on the coffee pot. I hadn’t noticed his eyes last night, and he hadn’t appeared drunk when he came home. He looked awful now, like he’d partied all night.