Neighborly(28)

If I were drinking like the rest of them, I might ask exactly what sort of arrangement she’s talking about, but instead I just nod, as if I meet people who proudly declare themselves asexual every day. It is pretty cool that someone as overtly sexual as Tennyson has no problem with it, that none of them does.

“I want to want sex,” I say. They all look at me, and I’m surprised to find that I spoke it out loud. I must have been lulled by the promise of all that acceptance. I don’t desire sex, but I desire reassurance that it’s normal not to. They’re all looking at me expectantly, so I have to keep going. “I don’t want to just become Doug’s roommate or just the mother of his child.” My tone is full of sadness, and maybe that’s why no one speaks for a long moment.

Shame rushes in to fill the void. I can’t believe I just told a table full of women—of neighbors—that I have no desire for my husband.

“If I wasn’t attracted to Bart anymore,” Raquel says, “I’d feel the same way.”

“It’s not that I’m not attracted to Doug,” I say. “It’s that I’m not attracted to sex. I’m so tired all the time, and it just seems like a lot of work.” I never should have said anything. I’m not just your average new mom with no sex drive. It’s a lot more complicated, and it all started much further back than having Sadie. In childhood, actually. But if Doug doesn’t even know that, there’s no way I’d ever tell a group of women I’ve just met.

Only I already told them far more than I should have.

“Sex is a lot of work,” Gina says. “For not a lot of payoff.”

“Your baby’s only a few months old,” Tennyson says. “Give yourself a break.”

“Maybe you have postpartum,” Yolanda says. “That can definitely do a number on your sex drive.”

“Every relationship ebbs and flows,” Raquel chimes in.

I appreciate the chorus of support, but what I really want is to change the subject. Away from reality, back to reality TV. I want them to forget I ever said anything, not become an object of their pity.

“Nolan and I have been married nine years,” Andie says. “So I find that lately, I’m horny a lot more.”

All the women laugh, except me. June explains, “In California, ten years is the magic number. That’s when alimony kicks in.”

“Wyatt and I haven’t been doing it much lately,” Yolanda says, her voice so low I have to lean in. Everyone else does the same. “I can’t blame him for not finding me very attractive anymore. I don’t find myself very attractive these days.”

Everyone tells her how gorgeous she is, and Yolanda seems bolstered. She’s clearly a person who can take a compliment.

So, they’re not perfect, but Andie was right. They’re all great.

I’ve never been a joiner, but part of me does really want to be a regular. From here on out, I just need to keep my sex life to myself.





CHAPTER 9

Come outside, Kat.

I’ve got a surprise for you.

Hurry up, OK?

Please?

Pretty please?

It’s not even five thirty, which is earlier than Doug’s been getting home, and the texts come one after the other, barely a pause between them.

I step onto the front steps, leaving the door open behind me so that I can hear Sadie if she wakes up. A pickup truck is double-parked, and Doug and a grizzled man are lifting two bikes onto the sidewalk, one red and one blue. Crayola colors. They look brand-new.

“That’s not all,” Doug says. He’s practically vibrating with excitement; it’s so strong it’s seismic. You could measure it with a Geiger counter. He steps back into the bed of the truck with a ta-da motion. The object of his affection has two large bicycle tires on the sides and is encased in bright yellow fabric with mesh inserts. There’s a silver hitch. “It’s a bike trailer! So Sadie can attach to one of our bikes and we can all go riding together!”

I have to choose my words carefully. “You want to go riding with a newborn?”

“She’s not that newly born anymore, Kat.” He turns to the other man. “This is Milo. He just happened to be in the bike store when I was there, and he offered to help. Otherwise, I would have had to buy a bike rack to get these babies home. I mean, we’ll need one anyway, but still. It was pretty awesome of him. Milo, meet Kat.”

“Hi, Milo,” I say. “Nice to meet you.”

“Congratulations on the move. You’re going to love it. You won’t believe how many kick-ass trails you can get to from here in, like, five minutes.” It’s funny to hear “kick-ass” from a fifty-year-old man, but then, he’s not a mere man; he’s part wildebeest. I’ve never seen a beard that bushy in person before.

“Thanks,” I tell him, “for bringing the bikes home.”

“My pleasure. Enjoy them.”

I wait until he’s back in the truck and has pulled away before I turn to Doug, who is eagerly awaiting my reaction. “What were you thinking?” I hiss.

The hurt on his face is instant, and it pains me to see it, to cause it, but I can’t humor him. We’re probably skating into overdraft territory. “Can you return all this?” I ask.