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Taking It All(4)

By:Maya Banks


Was this what their marriage had come to? Her always expecting the   worst? But in her defense, that's precisely what she'd gotten over the   last two years. Ever since his partner had bowed out and Tate had to   take over the entire client load, Tate had been determined to step up   and not lose a single client.

To date, he'd only lost one and he wanted to keep it that way. Which   meant being called out at all hours of the day. Clients wanting to meet   with him. Or calling him in panic after a bad day in the stock market.   It seemed to never end.

In the beginning, Tate had wanted Chessy to accompany him to his dinners   with his clients. Had wanted her to play the consummate hostess.  They'd  even had small dinner parties at their house that Chessy had  arranged  with Joss's help since Joss was such an amazing cook.

But lately? He hadn't asked her to accompany him for anything. He'd made   an offhand remark that it was becoming too much for her and that he   didn't want his job to consume them both. At the time Chessy had taken   it as a sign of his caring. That he wanted to take care of her and not   put her in high-pressure situations. But marriage was all about   partnership, wasn't it?

She didn't think she'd ever failed Tate or embarrassed him, but now that   paranoid side of her wondered just that. If he was somehow ashamed of   her, that she was too outgoing, too bubbly for the staid, moneyed   clients he catered to. His not wanting her to be a part of him courting   and wining and dining his clients had ended up being yet another   rejection, one that at the time hadn't bothered her, but in retrospect   made her heart clench. Was Tate growing tired of their marriage? Did she   no longer satisfy him? Had she done something to cause him to lose   faith in her? Their relationship? The not knowing was eating her up on   the inside and it was growing harder and harder to cover up her growing   unhappiness with a bright smile and words of understanding. She was   lying to her friends, even though she knew they saw right through her   façade. But the simple fact that she was lying, keeping so much locked   inside her, made her feel like the ultimate fraud.

She swallowed the quick knot in her throat, determined she would not cry   tonight and ruin her carefully applied makeup. Joss and Kylie had both   come over to lend advice and help her prepare for her anniversary  night.  She'd needed their support because she was starting to doubt  herself  and she hated that.

Just because she chose to surrender her submission to Tate didn't make   her a brainless twit unable to perform the simplest task unless he was   there to direct her. But him always being there, taking care of her,   cherishing her, had become her safety net. She knew she'd never fall   without him there to catch her. There was comfort in that knowledge. It   gave her a sense of security that she'd come to rely on. And lately?  She  felt like she was operating without that safety net. It was a sad   testament of her marriage that she saw more of Kylie and Joss and was   more in tune with their relationships than she was with her own!

She motioned for the waiter after studying the menu. The truth was she   wasn't that hungry and her nerves were on edge because she absolutely   planned to address her growing unhappiness with Tate this weekend and   she had no idea how that would go over.

One part of her thought he'd be horrified that he wasn't providing what   she needed. Another part of her feared he'd be angry with her for not   "understanding" the sacrifices he was making in order to make them   financially secure. It was a coin flip and it saddened her that she was   so out of touch with Tate's thought processes that she had no idea  which  way he'd go. She liked to think that he would be understanding  and make  the effort to spend more time with her. But the not knowing  was killing  her.                       
       
           



       

The waiter promptly appeared at her table, and in a low voice barely   above cracking, she placed hers and Tate's orders and asked for a bottle   of their favorite wine. A sparkling white they drank every year on   their anniversary. They'd discovered it on their honeymoon and had vowed   to commemorate each year by toasting to an even better next year.

So why did she feel the weight of the world on her shoulders and feel so   fatalistic? Why did the last two years of toasting to a "better year  to  come" make her feel like it had been a dismal failure, because the   ensuing year wasn't better. It had only grown progressively worse.

She'd never be so stupid as to say it couldn't get any worse, because it   could. What if Tate reacted to her addressing her own unhappiness by   saying he was equally unhappy and that he wanted out of their marriage?   That was the ultimate worst that could happen, so things could most   certainly get worse, though at this point she wondered if they were even   truly married in their hearts anymore.

Married people didn't operate like they did. At least not the marriages   she was acquainted with. Or rather the relationships. Were Joss and  Dash  and Kylie and Jensen the exceptions to the rule? Or were they the  norm?  Because Chessy's marriage didn't even come close to resembling  the  adoring, tight-knit couples she was friends with. And she'd never  really  looked beyond them because  …  well  …  she was afraid to. Because  she was  afraid of what she might discover. So she'd adopted a  head-in-the-sand  approach and that wasn't getting her anywhere at all.  It was only making  her more miserable.

She refused to look at her watch. Instead she drank in the occupants of   the room and played her favorite people-watching game, trying to guess   the status of the people enjoying their meals.

She picked out one argument that appeared to be in full swing. Their   voices rose before the woman loudly shushed her significant other and   then looked around in embarrassment to make sure they weren't being   observed. Chessy quickly averted her gaze, not wanting to add to the   poor woman's obvious discomfort.

A smile softened her face when she took in an elderly couple holding   hands, their arms resting on the table as they toasted one another with   their free hands. Then the older man leaned in to kiss his wife and   Chessy's heart squeezed.

It wasn't until the food arrived at the table that Chessy realized so   much time had gone by. She hastily glanced at her watch to realize that   over thirty minutes had passed. She'd purposely waited a bit before   placing the order, hoping beyond hope that Tate would arrive before the   food got there.

The waiter gave her a look of sympathy that nearly sent Chessy right   over the edge. She smiled brightly. "My husband will be here in a few   minutes. Before the food gets cold for sure."

The waiter shrugged as if it didn't matter to him one way or another. He   set her plate in front of her and then arranged Tate's across the   table. As soon as he left, Chessy reached over and pulled the plate to   the chair sitting catty corner to her.

She and Tate always sat next to one another. Never across the table   where they couldn't touch, couldn't speak intimately without fear of   being overheard.

She sat, feeling conspicuous because the food was in front of her, the   smell wafting tantalizingly through her nostrils. Where was Tate?

She pulled out her phone, checking for texts since she'd silenced it   once she entered the restaurant. She could very well have missed the   vibration signaling an incoming call or text.

There was nothing. Taking a deep breath, she dialed his number and   waited as it rang. She frowned when he didn't immediately pick up. Then   her gut clenched when it went to voice mail.

Had something horrible happened? Had he been in an accident? He never   let her calls go to voice mail. Not that she called him much during the   day. She knew how busy he was and she didn't want to appear clingy or   needy. Even if she was just that. Needing. She needed her husband back.

Her anxiety level reached epic proportions while she watched the food   grow colder as more time passed. She should just eat. Let him eat alone   if and when he got there. She refused to believe that he could be hurt   somewhere, needing help, and she was here waiting for him.

When an hour passed, the waiter hovered, obviously waiting for her to   vacate. This was a popular restaurant and they were always full on   reservations. An hour was more than enough time to eat and even enjoy   dessert and yet her husband wasn't here and two plates of food, wasted,   sat in front of her and her stomach was too tied up in knots to even   take one bite. She feared if she even tasted the entrée that she'd have   to bolt for the bathroom and heave into the toilet.