Happily Ever Ninja(99)

Greg flinched as though I’d struck him; his expression equal parts incredulous and irate when he responded, his voice raised to a dangerous pitch, “That’s like asking me, ‘Are you happy your heart beats?’”

I glared at him for a long moment, seeing he believed his words, though I still doubted them. I doubted he wanted a partner.

So I pushed, “Then why did you do it? Why did you accept the assignment? And don’t tell me it was for the money, so you could spend more time at home, because that’s not the whole reason. You knew for a fact that it was dangerous. Kidnapping of oil workers in Nigeria happens all the time. Why did you risk so much, why risk yourself when your family needs you?”

He made a loud sound of disbelief. “My family needs me? Really?”

“Of course!”

“Not of course, Fiona!” He charged me, backing me up until my bottom connected with the counter, shouting, losing all premise of control. “When have you ever needed me?”

“Greg—”

“You don’t need me. When I’m at home, I might as well be . . I might as well be fucking furniture!” He gestured to the kitchen table with a flick of his wrist.

“Are you serious?”

“As a brain tumor,” he said through gritted teeth, and his eyes flashed with malice.

My mouth dropped open and a sound of strangled shock forced itself from my throat.

I squeaked my outrage for several seconds before he interrupted me with his tirade. “By the way, if you had another tumor, would you have told me? Or would I find out about it from the shirtless boy wonder next door?”

“You’re still mad I didn’t tell you about the headaches?”

“No. Of course not. I’m not allowed to be angry with you about anything. I’m not even fucking needed here!”

“You are.”

“Then tell me to stay. Tell me you need me. Lie to me.” He was all sarcasm and bitterness.

I set my hands on my waist and squinted, because my eyes were stinging with the same hot rage ballooning in my chest. “You want to be needed? Fine. Poof. You’re needed! In fact, I need you right now. I need you to do your breakfast dishes.” I gestured to the pot he’d used to make oatmeal, still caked with residual oats and left to soak on the counter.

“Oh, so very amusing, darling,” he spat spitefully, his voice a dangerous growl.

I stuck my chin out. “You think I’m joking? Because I’m not.”

“For your information, I’ve left the pot to soak on the counter on purpose and with every intention of cleaning it later. If you’d taken a moment to look around, you’d see that all the other dishes are done and I’ve wiped down the counter.”

I lifted my hands and gave him three slow claps, knowing I was being insufferable but lacking the mental energy to care. “Congratulations. You’ve wiped down the counters for the first time in over fourteen years of marriage. What do you want? A cookie?”

Greg responded through gritted teeth. “No, Fe. I don’t require treats for good deeds. But I would like some acknowledgement that I have been listening to you, and I am trying to do better. Yet all I’m hearing is that I’m needed only for the most mundane of tasks. Thank you for clarifying how desperately I’m needed.” He moved to turn away, hurt written on his features, so I gripped his wrist to stop him and yanked him back.

“That’s right, Greg. I need you for the most mundane of tasks, because that’s what marriage and parenting is. It’s the mundane. It’s the everyday. It’s the showing up and being there and supporting each other in a million different small ways that add up to a colossal commitment. It’s consistency.”

“Because you have everything else under control, right?” His words were laced with resentment, and based on the venom in his voice and the accusatory daggers shooting from his eyes, he was expecting me to answer with a Yes. I do. I have everything sorted, except the soaking oatmeal dish.

Instead I said, “No. I don’t. I’m a complete mess. I’m frantic for you. Yet I feel abandoned when you leave for your assignments. But I can forgive you for that. What I can no longer forgive or overlook is that you abandon me even when we’re together. You abandoned me in Enugu, and you abandon me when you’re here.”

He swallowed thickly, his eyes flickering between mine, and when he spoke the sentiment was jagged and rough. “Then tell me what to do. Tell me how I can help in a way that’s meaningful.”

“I don’t want to tell you; I want you to just do it without me having to spell it out all the time!”