Too Little, Too Late (17 page)

A
LEXIS PUSHED HER
B
IBLE
aside when she heard the knock on her door.

“Hey.” Julie, her vice president, peeped into her office. “The meeting’s in thirty minutes.”

She closed the door, leaving Alexis alone once more. Of course there was no way she would have forgotten the meeting. How could she? This was the biggest account pitch her ten-year-old advertising agency, Ward and Associates, would be making this year. Twelve million dollars for the Healthy Heart Cereals account. And she was ready. Or rather, her team was ready. Julie and two account executives had worked for weeks to prepare. Normally, she would have been right in their midst, checking every storyboard, working until they had the best. That was her life—until she had learned that her husband was addicted to keeping his pants down.

She glanced at the platinum band that graced her finger. Looking at the new ring made her smile with the memories. And that’s what last week’s trip to Oceanside was supposed to do. But although she and Brian had connected once again, a mountain still stood between them.

She blamed their disconnect on whatever secret Brian was holding. As hard as he tried, he still wasn’t there, especially in their most intimate of times. He’d push her away, not physically, but in the ways that counted. In ways that were difficult to describe, but in ways she could definitely feel.

What are you hiding, Brian?

She’d spent hours trying to figure it out, but had come up with nothing. And now she was sick of it. Sick of thinking about it. Sick of not knowing.

She piled the folders together for her meeting and then bowed her head. She needed to pray—not for the task at hand, but for what she would face later when she talked to Brian. She prayed that he would give her all the answers she needed. And then she prayed that knowing everything was really what she wanted.

Alexis inhaled, took in the aroma of Brian’s favorite dish that would greet him, disarm him, and put him at her mercy. At least, that’s what she’d been taught.

She was barely four years old when she would climb onto one of the kitchen chairs and watch her mother prepare dinner with the same care that she gave to everything she loved.

“The way to a man’s heart, sugah,” her mother drawled in her Savannah accent, “is through his stomach. You can get a man to do anything if you first fill his belly with his favorites.”

Tonight she was testing this long-ago learned theory.

The key jiggled inside the lock and she positioned herself by the dining room table.

Brian stepped inside, glanced around the wide-open space filled with candles that shimmered, and closed the door slowly.

“Okay,” he paused for an instant, “it’s not our anniversary.”

Alexis pushed all the questions she had from her mind. Stuffed her hands inside her jeans and put on a happy face. “Nope, not our anniversary.”

“And it’s not your birthday. Or Valentine’s Day. Or even my birthday.”

She chuckled. “None of the above.”

“So, what did I forget?”

“Nothing. This is just something I wanted to do.” She stepped closer to him. “We came back from Oceanside and jumped right back into life. I wanted to bring back a little of that magic.” She kissed him, then said, “Go in and get changed.”

He shook his head. “Nuh-huh, because I can smell it. You made it, didn’t you? I don’t want to wait.”

She laughed. “Go change. By the time you come out, I’ll have your plate waiting.”

With a grin, he rushed into the bedroom.

She scooped spoonfuls of the shrimp and grits casserole onto their china. Filled two flutes with wine. Sat down and planned her words.

Brian was dressed in a sweat suit when he returned. He sat beside her, held her hand, and blessed the food. Then he took his first bite and moaned.

“I cannot believe you did this,” he said. Took another forkful and released more sounds of pleasure.

Alexis stabbed a shrimp with her fork, swirled it inside the grits.

“You’re not hungry?” he asked, his mouth full.

She dropped her fork. “Not really.” Inside, she prepared her questions, braced for the answers. “You know how I get when I cook.”

“Too bad,” he groaned. “This is so good.” He leaned across the table and kissed her, leaving a trace of grits on the corner of her lip. He smiled as she licked it off. “Oh,” he said, “How did the pitch go today?”

“I think we got the account.”

He stopped chewing. “Alex, that’s terrific.”

She half-smiled. “But you never know.”

“If you think you got it, then I know you did.” He paused. “You don’t seem excited.”

“It’s just that I have so much on my mind. I’ve been thinking about…us.”

With his napkin, he wiped the corners of his mouth, then rested his arms on the table. “We’re going to be all right.”

“That’s my prayer.”

He took her hand, kissed her fingers. “I will always be grateful for you standing by me through this.”

“It’s a disease, right?” She took a sip of wine. “There is something I want to know, though.”

He turned his attention back to his plate.

“Sometimes I think about you and what you’ve been through. And in my mind, I’m taken to places I don’t want to go.”

He nodded, but kept eating.

She frowned. Waited for him to tell her that whatever she imagined was worse than the truth. But he said nothing.

“I imagine you with the women. And that’s hard for me.”

More nothing.

Her frown deepened. “I need to talk about this.”

Still nothing.

“Brian,” she called. It took him a moment to look up. “Talk to me. There are things I have to know. About…the women.”

He stuffed his mouth with a shrimp. Chewed and bought time. Finally, “Our therapy has been going well.”

Huh?
“It has,” she said, slowly, keeping herself calm.

“And in Oceanside, wasn’t that a new beginning?”

“It was.”

“Then why look back? Let’s just go forward.”

She digested his words. Felt the disconnect once again. “I can’t go forward until I look back.”

“You don’t need to look back.”

“How can you tell me what I need?”

He took a breath. “Because in this situation, it’s about what we both need. It’s about what’s good for our marriage.”

Her eyes narrowed as she peered at him, trying to see the parts that he wouldn’t show her. She waited a little while, then lifted her glass of wine and strolled toward the bedroom.

“Alex.”

She stopped, turned.

“Come back.”

“Why?”

“Because in order for this to work, we can’t walk away. We have to handle our problems together.”

“That’s what I was trying to do. But you don’t want to talk to me.”

He pushed away from the table and walked to her. “That’s not true. I just think that some things…should be said…with Dr. Perkins. So that she can help us work through any challenges.”

She thought for a moment. “So you’ll answer my questions in her office tomorrow?”

He hesitated. “Yeah, yeah.”

Two affirmatives, but neither sounded like a real yes to her.

“Okay.” She turned back toward the bedroom.

“Are you fine with that?”

She faced him again. Nodded. Smiled.

“Okay,” he breathed, relieved. “I’ll clean up and then be right in.”

Inside their bedroom, Alexis settled on the bed, sipped wine, and waited for her husband. She wasn’t about to kick him out of this room. She was desperate to at least keep their physical connection.

Her lips lingered on the edge of the glass as she pushed all of her thoughts aside.
Let tonight be tonight,
she decided. Tomorrow she would have all of her answers.

U
SUALLY
A
LEXIS ARRIVED AT
the doctor’s office one minute before she was supposed to be there. Today, she was fifteen minutes early. She scanned through magazines as she waited. And then right at noon, Brian strolled in.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He kissed her cheek, then sat next to her.

Dr. Perkins said, “You two are looking well.”

Alexis scooted to the sofa’s edge, eager to get this session started.

“We’re doing good.” Brian leaned back against the couch. Spread his arms over the top, and then crossed his legs as if they were just going to chat.

“That’s great,” Dr. Perkins said. “You’re connecting.”

“Speaking of connections.” Alexis raised her hand as if she needed permission to speak. “I have some questions.”

The way Brian shifted let her know that he didn’t expect her to ask the questions she’d asked last night. As if the love they shared was enough to make her forget.

Yes, they’d made love with more passion than they’d had since their trip to Oceanside. But the images of the two thousand women were still there, in bed with them. Right next to his secret that always hovered above.

“I’ll answer any questions you have,” Dr. Perkins said.

“Not you, Dr. Perkins.” She turned toward Brian.

Brian glanced at the doctor then clasped his hands as if he was praying. Alexis wondered if he was asking God to keep her silent. But she didn’t care what he or God said.

Dr. Perkins looked at Brian, but she spoke to Alexis. “Ask whatever you want to know.”

She braced herself, but didn’t hesitate for a moment. “How many women were you with?” Then, in her mind,
Please don’t tell me two thousand.

“Alex, that’s not important.”

“How can you say that?” She glared at him. “It’s important because I want to know.”

A moment later, “I’m…I’m not exactly sure.”

“Take a guess.”

He shook his head.

“A guess, Brian,” she forced it.

“I don’t know what a guess will do.”

“Let me help you. Are you talking thousands? Two thousand?”

He bolted from the couch. “No!” He paced. “No where near two thousand. Or even a thousand.”

She was feeling better until he stopped. “So, nine hundred and ninety-nine?”

He shook his head. “Not even close. But I never kept count. It wasn’t like I was collecting them.” He paused, but the stiffness of her face told him that she wanted more. “Okay, one hundred, two hundred, I don’t know.”

There was a big difference between one hundred and two hundred. And based on his response, it could be three hundred or five hundred. She couldn’t think of one hundred people she’d invite into her home. Yet, there were at least that many women who had shared her husband.

As bad as that was, she wanted more, wanted it all. “Were you ever with anyone I know?”

He looked at her for a moment longer than she would have liked, then turned away and returned to the path he set on the carpet. “I don’t know how any of this helps.”

“It helps me.” She tried not to tremble as she thought about what his stalling meant. Had he slept with women in church? Or some of her employees?
Oh, God,
she thought.
Please not one of my clients.

He said, “Why isn’t it enough that I’m getting help? Why do you have to know specifics?”

“Because we’re not connected, Brian. There’s still so much between us, and moving forward is not going to eliminate what’s in the past.” She waited for him to say something. “Brian, I know you’re hiding things from me. And I can’t stand it.”

He sat next to her. Took her hands into his. “I want to forget about the past and focus on the future with you. Let’s just focus on my healing.”

“But the past is part of
my
healing.”

When he shook his head, she pulled her hands away.

She asked, “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing.” But he wouldn’t look at her.

“If you’re going to keep secrets…”

“I don’t have any secrets!”

“Then answer my questions!”

“Your questions don’t have anything to do with secrets. You’re only asking me these things because you don’t trust me.”

“And that surprises you?” Alexis stood. “If you don’t want to let me in, then let me out. I don’t need to be in a marriage—”

“Alexis,” the doctor interrupted, “it’s not a good practice to run when things aren’t going your way.”

“Doctor, I’ve sat here for weeks listening to the fact that my husband was so stressed that he had to have sex without me. But even though it was hard, I kept coming because I made a commitment.” She turned from the doctor and now faced Brian. “And you made a commitment, too. To help me get through this. To help me understand. To be honest with me.” She grabbed her purse. “Obviously, like the way our entire marriage has been, I’m the only one who cares about commitment.”

“Alexis,” the doctor began, “don’t walk out while you’re upset.”

But she didn’t listen. And she didn’t look at Brian as she stomped from the room. She heard him calling her, but she didn’t turn back. There was nothing more to say if he couldn’t trust her with his truth.