Nightwatcher (Nightwatcher #1)(13)

She used to do those things, though. Not often, by any means—but she did. There was always a vulnerable side to her, carefully shielded from the rest of the world by a steely veneer. She’s been through a lot in her life. She doesn’t choose to let many people in.

Back when he first fell in love with her, Mack was touched—and honored, on some level—that he was the one she chose. The only one who got to know the real Carrie. The old Carrie. As well as anyone would ever know her, anyway.

But lately, she’s gone missing. Lately, Mack finds himself wanting to scream at the fire-breathing creature that shares his apartment, Who are you and what have you done with my wife?

“Look, it’s all temporary,” he reminds her—and himself—now. “It’s all going to be worth it. I promise.”

There was a time when she’d have nodded her agreement, or at least greeted his words with silent acceptance.

Carrie glares at him. “How can you make a promise like that? It’s not working, and you know it.”

“Give it time.”

“How much more time do I have to give?”

“As much as it—”

“I can’t take it,” she cuts in. “I just can’t. I can’t take it.”

Trust me—neither can I.

“Don’t you want to be a mother?”

Mack’s question—the one she once would have answered readily, affirmatively—is greeted with ominous silence.

Don’t you dare change your mind, Carrie.

Don’t you dare forget how badly we want children.

If only she were willing to go a different route—a surrogate, or adoption . . .

But she vetoed both those options months ago. She would prefer to conceive and carry a baby, and the doctor told her it’s physically possible, so she refuses to consider other options. That’s Carrie. Present a challenge, and she’ll see it through to the death.

Meanwhile, all this tension is killing Mack.

Killing them.

There was a time last year, after they’d eloped, when—as much as he wants children—he might have considered himself and Carrie a family of two.

Now she’s been pulling away—and okay, he’ll admit it: so has he, his nerves are dangerously frayed by her moods and the uncertainty of their future. The bond between them seems to be growing more taut with every passing day. Something has to give, or it’s going to snap.

What’s going to snap, Mack? Carrie demanded when he warned her just the other day. The bond? Or you?

He didn’t reply. He didn’t know.

“Carrie,” he says, looking directly at her, “do you want a baby, or not?”

This time, she answers the question. “No,” she says flatly, “I don’t. Not at this price.”

So there it is. That’s it. It’s not going to happen.

Hadn’t he realized, deep down inside, that this was coming? Hadn’t he been preparing for this moment in the back of his mind? Hadn’t he thought of all the things he was going to say to convince her to change her mind?

Maybe. But somehow, now that the moment is here, he knows that nothing he says can make a difference.

He turns abruptly.

“Where are you going?” Carrie calls after him as he strides away.

“To bed.”

“At this hour?”

“I didn’t sleep last night.”

“So what else is new?”

Insomnia—he’s suffered from it, on and off, all his life. Lately, it’s come back with a vengeance.

Mack doesn’t reply, just closes the bedroom door behind him.

Rather, he means to close it.

But frustrated anger gets the best of him; he slams it shut. Then, for good measure, he hurtles his shoes against the wall, one after the other.

“What the hell are you doing?” shouts the stranger in the next room.

I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

Mack sinks onto the edge of the bed and buries his head in his trembling hands, wondering how it came to this.

“No,” Jerry mutters, pacing down the street, heedless of the people around him. He has another one of his blinding headaches. It hurts so badly . . . he hurts so badly.

“No. No, no, no . . .”

That’s what she said. Kristina. Just like that: No.

She didn’t even consider what he was trying to ask her, or how much courage it took for him to do it. She didn’t even care that his feelings would be hurt.

No.

And then—to add the ultimate insult to injury—she gave him the finger.

How could she?

He’s angry, so angry, and it’s all her fault.

No—all Jamie’s fault.

Jamie is the one who told Jerry that he could have a girlfriend now. Mama always said no to that—no to girlfriends, no to friends, no to everything. But Mama’s not around anymore, and Jamie is, and Jamie says Jerry can have a girlfriend if he wants.

He does want to.

He wants to love a girl and have her love him back—just like in that song he likes so much, the one by Alicia Keys. The one where she sings about how she never loved someone the way that she loves you.

Jerry likes to play that song over and over and over and think about Kristina.