Page 53 of The Write Choice

“Only if you want to tell me why.” He puts his beer down on the table in front of him and leans back into the couch cushions.

“I had an issue with my team I had to deal with. But I have been home on time more often,” I insist before he can say anything about it. Daniel looks skeptical, so I admit, “Sort of. I was late again on Wednesday.”

Daniel shakes his head slowly, then runs a hand through his dark, wavy hair. “I’m sure that didn’t help.”

“I know, man. She was really pissed. Frankly, I was pissed at myself, but I need to do a good job on this project, or everyone’s going to think I got this job because of my parents.”

“And Mac will hate you forever if you botch this addition.” He winks.

I glare at him, but before I can retort, the doorbell rings. Daniel checks his watch. “No way that’s Ben yet. Must be the food.” He stands to answer the door.

“Didn’t you say seven?” I call after him.

“Yeah, but he’s with Jenny now, so he’s incapable of being on time anymore.”

When he comes back to deposit takeout containers, some paper plates, and napkins on the coffee table in front of me, I huff.

“I see you still haven’t learned to cook anything.”

“Not for lack of trying.” He flops back on the couch, picking up his beer from the table where he left it. The doorbell immediately rings again, and Daniel groans.

I chuckle, standing. “I got it.” I set my drink down and go to the door, opening it to find Ben on the porch, blowing warm air on his hands. I let him inside.

“Shit, it’s cold,” he says, shaking his body as if that would shed the outside temperature from him.

I eye him up and down. “You’re not wearing a coat,” I observe.

“Didn’t think I needed one to walk from the car to the house.” He shrugs.

I lead him into the living room where Daniel is opening boxes of tacos, nachos, and various toppings. He hands us each a plate. “Sorry it’s not homemade,” he jokes.

Ben chuckles. “We’ll get you to cook something. Someday.”

I eye Ben skeptically. “Hard disagree.”

He grabs three tacos and a handful of nachos, topping them with a little bit of everything before setting his plate on the coffee table. “I have faith still. Beer in the fridge?”

Daniel nods, filling his plate. I do the same as Ben gets himself a drink and joins us on the couch.

“So, Brandon,” Ben starts. “When I left, your wife was standing awkwardly in my kitchen looking like she’d rather be anywhere else.”

I wince. “She takes a few minutes to warm up.” I don’t mean to sound defensive, but that’s exactly how it comes across.

Ben raises his hand to stop me and shakes his head. “No need to explain. I know you were worried about her liking it here, so I thought I’d mention it. I’m sure the ladies will help her feel at home.” His smile is so wide and warm, it disarms me for a second. Every time I see him smile like that, I think he’s got the Midwestern charm down to a science.

I sigh deeply, and both men eye me over their food.

“I don’t want to spend the whole night bemoaning the state of my marriage, but things aren’t going as well as I would have hoped,” I say. I had already filled them in on our agreement as they helped me set up the house, so it’s not news to them that Katie and I are struggling. But we were all relatively optimistic after the furniture was set up and everything was unpacked.

Daniel’s eyes go wide. “She’s still icing you out?”

“What do you mean?” Ben’s head swivels back and forth between the two of us.

I take a giant bite of my taco and chew it slowly. I’ve known Daniel for almost my entire life, but I’ve talked to Ben like three times before this. And, while he’s well aware Katie and I are having issues, I’m not sure if I want to talk about my sex life with a guy I barely know.

They both look at me expectantly, neither of them making a move to eat or drink while they wait for me to figure out what I want to say. Both of them seem ridiculously happy in their relationships, so maybe opening up to them isn’t the worst thing I could do. I could probably use some advice.

I swallow my food and take a deep breath. “It’s been a while since Katie and I have been…” I trail off.