You Deserve Each Other(23)

Oh, he’s riled. He’s hands on hips, tie yanked loose, so upset I can see his skin retracting as a shadow of stubble breaks through. His mouth is a slash of contempt. His eyes dip to the Steelers logo on my hoodie and he clenches his jaw so tight I know there’s a hairline fracture there with my name on it. An X-ray technician will be astounded to see the word Naomi etched into his bones one day.

“For one, I hate this house.”

My eyebrows arch so high, they nearly touch my bangs. “You picked it.”

After eleven months of dating, we packed up our solo lives and came here to be one unit. It was the first rental house we looked at. We were dripping with vitality and butterflies, making grand plans. We’ll build shelves. Maybe the landlord will let us retile the bathroom. Doing projects together will be so fun! Recalling happier times is like trying to remember a dream I had a hundred years ago—it’s all a warped blur that no longer makes sense.

When we toured the house, we were so dreamy over our love nest that we didn’t take into consideration that the limited street parking would make it a pain to accommodate two cars. We didn’t notice the floors weren’t level, which means every time I drop my ChapStick I have to chase it before it rolls under the furniture. We didn’t think about the fact that there was only one spare room that could be turned into an office.

Which went to him, naturally.

“Sometimes my judgment’s hasty,” he shoots back, making it clear he’s talking about proposing to me. “I don’t like the street we’re on, or this neighborhood. Morris is actually a scenic town if you’re in the right spot, and we moved smack-dab where it’s ugliest. There’s nothing here.”

He can see the question mark on my face. “I’d rather be closer to nature!” he blurts. “All these woods, all this countryside around us, and here we sit with a backyard so small you could spit across it.”

“So, what?” I prompt. “You want to be one of those guys in a Nature Valley ad? Sitting on a mountain with your Labrador retriever, getting a hard-on over the smell of trees?”

“Yeah!” he nearly yells. “I want that. I think that’s how I’d thrive. But you’re not going to let me thrive, Naomi. I can already tell. You’re content right here in your cement prison—”

“Oh god.” I roll my eyes so hard, I see the spirit realm. “Take up hiking.”

“—begging to get seasonal depression by locking yourself in a dark room and never going outside. Going to work doesn’t count because you’re still sitting in a car during transit. And I see you, Naomi. I see you never looking at the sky or taking the time to stop and smell the—” He sees how excited I am for him to finish that sentence and he kills it abruptly. “You’re barely living, you know.”

“I had no idea you were so thirsty to be one with nature.” I use air quotes around one with nature. He hates it when people use air quotes. “What the hell kind of YouTube videos have you been watching in there on your computer wife? Seriously, where is this coming from?”

“MY HEART,” he roars, and he’s so sincere and agitated that I double over in a fit of laughter. “Shut up! Stop laughing.” He’s pacing now. He’s been putting some deep thought into this. Who is this man in my living room with Armageddon eyes and a yearning desire to skip rocks across a lake?

“I want a helmet with a flashlight on it,” he’s raving. “I want a fireplace. A shotgun in case of coyotes. I want shovels and a shed to put them in. I want a canoe.”

“Don’t let me stop you from getting a canoe,” I say, dead serious. “Nicholas, I’m here to support all your dreams. Please, go get a canoe. I’d love nothing more than to watch you paddle out into the middle of a lake.”

“I need to feel alive!”

“I think what you need is a granola bar and maybe a trial run with the Eagle Scouts.”

“I knew you wouldn’t take me seriously. That’s why I haven’t said anything. But I’m not keeping it bottled up anymore, Naomi, I swear to god. I’m going to start living the way I want. I’m going to have the life I want, everything I want, no matter what it takes. I don’t have forever; I’m already in my thirties.”

“You’re right, you’re practically an old man. Your time is now! Start living your best life.”

“I’m serious.” He pinches a nickel that’s sitting on the TV stand. “Heads, we start doing things my way. Tails, we stay the same.”

“You want to plan our lives based on a coin toss? That sounds about right.” I wish he’d flip a coin to decide the fate of our relationship while he’s at it. Heads, we break up. Tails, we flip the coin again. We could quit each other right now and blame it all on the coin.

He flips the nickel. It lands on the back of his hand. Nicholas stares at the glimmer of silver.

“Well?”

“I guess you’ll find out.”

“Fabulous, be sure to keep me in the loop.” I sprawl out on our three-seater, arrowing a lazy smile up at him. “Good night.”

“Good night? If you want me to go to bed, then you’re going to have to move. I’m taking the couch tonight.”

“No, you can have your bed full of Skittles. I’m staying right here.”