“Night.”
“Night, Nate.”
I shut the door and watch him disappear into the darkness.
CHAPTER 2
NATE
“You’re late,” Lena says the moment I step through the front door.
I stare at her. She’s at the kitchen sink, cigarette in her mouth, black hair tied on top of her head. She turns her dark-blue gaze to mine and I narrow my eyes. She’s been drinking again; I can see it. Her eyes are glassy and her skin loses all it’s pink and instead is a pale white.
“Where’s Macy?”
“Sleepin’,” she mutters, dropping the cigarette into the sink. “Where were you?”
“Liam’s.”
“Why?”
I walk over and take a glass, filling it with the whiskey sitting on the counter. “He had a few friends over, I wanted to see how he was. I haven’t seen him or Kelly for a few months.”
“How is Kelly?” she asks, lifting herself onto the counter beside me.
Lena was once a stunning woman, and in a sense, she still is. She’s just let go of herself more now. Her dark hair isn’t silky like it used to be; instead it’s thrown up all the time, rarely brushed. Her skin is no longer that creamy porcelain I once adored. She’s still my wife though, and with that comes commitment that I can’t just walk away from.
Plus there’s Macy.
“He’s fine,” I answer her. “Still surfing.”
“You’re riding tomorrow,” she says, crossing her legs.
“Yeah.”
“I can’t make it. Jacinta wants to get her nails done. I told her I’d come. Can you take Macy?”
I turn to her, glaring. “How the fuck can I take Macy when I’m riding?”
“You’ve got plenty of friends. Ask one of them to watch her.”
“You know I don’t like that.”
She jumps off the bench. “I can’t take her with me, so you can take her with you or not ride, it’s up to you.”
“Riding is our fuckin’ income,” I bark. “I don’t have a choice.”
She shrugs. “I’m going to bed. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
I glare at her back as she walks away, furious that she continually puts something else before our daughter. I shoot back the last of the whiskey and head down to Macy’s room. I get in and see her curled on the bed, her blond hair spilling over the pillow. I don’t know where she got her blonde locks from, but I do believe Lena was blond as a child. Macy looks like me: her eyes, her skin, her face. Her hair is the only thing that Lena gave her.
I step closer and narrow my eyes. She’s got no blanket on and she’s curled into a tiny ball. I stare down at her bed and realize it’s wet. Growling, I hurry over and lift her tiny body gently. She’s wet the bed because Lena was too lazy to put a diaper on her. She knows she isn’t ready to sleep without them. Macy curls into me, and I can feel her damp pants touching my arm as I carry her to a clean spot on the floor.
I gently lay her down and remove her wet clothes as quickly as I can without waking her. She groans and her little eyes flicker open. She’s got stunning green eyes. Her little lips part and she squeaks, “Daddy?”
“Hey princess,” I murmur, putting her diaper on. “You wet the bed. It’s okay, Daddy will get you all cleaned up.”
“I didn’t wear a dee dee,” she says, her voice soft and sweet.
She’s called her diapers dee dees since she could speak—I never bothered to correct her. She’s only little for so long; if it makes her happy to call them that, then who am I to stop her?
“It’s okay, baby,” I say, pulling a fresh pair of pajamas on her tiny body. “You’re all clean now.”
I lift her up and with one hand, pull the sheets from her bed. I carry her into the hall, get some new sheets and then sit her on the rocking chair in the corner while I make her a new, clean bed. When I’m done I turn and lift her, placing her back on the mattress. I stroke her curls as her little eyes flutter back closed.
“Night, sweet girl.”
I carefully step out, closing the door behind me. I contemplate sleeping on the couch, but it’s so damned hard I decide I’d rather sleep next to Lena then fuck my back before tomorrow’s race. You’d think with all our money that we would have gotten a soft couch, but no; Lena insisted we get some fancy new style that’s hard as stone.
I get into the room and Lena is on the bed, naked, hair trailing down over her breasts. There was a time I couldn’t resist her; now I find it difficult to respect her or her body. How can I when she doesn’t respect our house, our marriage, or our daughter? I ignore her as I walk past, pulling off my shirt. We’re usually in bed at separate times, so I don’t have to have the “why don’t you fuck me anymore” conversation.