Pretty Girls Dancing(35)
Given Nicky’s excitement about the events of his day, there was little required of Mark beyond an exclamation or occasional question. He was content to listen to his son’s voice, see his chubby face alight with excitement. A bittersweet pang lodged deep in his heart. God, he missed everything about the kid. Tucking him in at night and the hilarious schemes the boy concocted to avoid sleep. Walking into his room later and sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him sleep. Longing swept over him. He missed his family.
“Have you caught the bad guy yet, Dad?”
“Not yet.”
“You could have Spider-Man help you.” Nicky’s freckled expression was earnest. “He’s got Spidey senses, and he’d know who was lying.”
Something in Mark lightened. “Spider-Man?” He pretended to consider the suggestion. “I don’t know. Seems like Daredevil is the better detective.”
“You could get both of them! They could work together. And hey! Wolverine could help, too, because he could sniff out—”
“Time to tell Daddy good night, Nicky.” He could hear Kelli’s voice in the background. “Grandma’s got your bath running with all your superheroes in it.”
Mark’s muscles went tight as his wife and son negotiated over how much time Nicky would be allowed to play. Glancing at his watch, he noted that it was already past the boy’s normal bedtime. Apparently the schedule she adhered to so closely at their home in London was more flexible at her parents’ house.
“Okay, bye, Dad. Love you!”
In a contest between further conversation and the prospect of a watery superhero battle, Mark was unsurprised to find himself on the losing end. “Bye, big guy. Kelli?”
His wife’s face came on the screen. She looked good, as always, but her smile was strained, and the blue smudges under her eyes were darker than they’d been a couple of days ago. “Dad took him to the fire station today. He was pretty impressed.”
“Sounded like it.” He kept his voice carefully neutral. Conversations with his wife had turned into a minefield the last several months. A casual misstep could set off a detonation. “Is he being good for you?”
“He misses you.” Mark drew in a breath at her admission. Her smile went wry. “He tells everyone we meet that his dad is a superhero with the NBC.” They both laughed. Nicky had yet to master the acronym for Ohio’s Bureau of Criminal Investigation. “How’s the case?”
“Just starting to come together.” Full days followed by evenings spent going over reports from different investigators—agency and local police entities—who were pursuing avenues as assigned by Craw. “How much longer are you planning to stay in Kentucky?”
“You wouldn’t be home much if we were there, anyway.”
He recognized the evasiveness in her answer for what it was. Mark had been home when Kelli and Nicky had left. But reminding her of that was one of those mines to be avoided, so he continued to step gingerly. “Have you given any more thought to going back to work?”
She’d mentioned it on and off for the last eighteen months, and he was starting to think it might be a good idea. It’d give her something to do besides sit home and brood all day, manufacturing paranoid doubts about their relationship. “You used to enjoy your work for the nonprofit before Nicky was born.”
“My going back to work isn’t going to magically solve our problems.”
“It might be a good first step.”
Kelli’s mouth tightened. “Like my seeing Dr. Brewer again would be a good first step?”
That familiar feeling was back, carving a furrow in his chest. “He helped you with your emotions before . . .”
“When I had postpartum depression! This isn’t a me problem, Mark. It’s an us problem. You’re never home, and when you are . . . there’s such distance between us. Are you . . .” Her lips compressed as her throat worked for a moment. “Are you having an affair?”
A familiar feeling of helplessness swept over him, tinged with guilt. “No, of course not. God, how can you even ask me that? All I do is work and spend time with you guys. At least I did, before you hauled my son five hours away and refused to come home.”
“Nicky’s calling me. I have to go.” His cell screen went dark when she disconnected.
“Fuck,” he whispered viciously and whirled to kick at the bed. “God damn it.” Kelli’s accusation was a punch in the gut. But she was right about the distance between them. There’d been a time when they’d told each other everything, but somehow over the last year and a half, the words had dried up. There was a chasm between them, one he was helpless to breach. Every time he tried, he said the wrong thing, and the conversation ended before it really began. Their marriage was in trouble and had been for a while. The admission had his chest going tight. Maybe he’d handled it all wrong from the beginning. Hell, yes, he had. Things had gotten so uncomfortable that he’d delayed going home as soon as he could have some nights. They had to find a way to communicate, or Mark could predict exactly where his marriage was heading.
He stared at the phone clutched in his hand without really seeing it. Nothing brilliant occurred to him. Maybe when things wrapped up here, they should see a counselor. A professional might be able to steer them back to each other.