“Reenie, please,” he said, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I just got home. Don’t start in on me already.”
Her hopes fell a little. “But the traveling is killing me.”
He peeked at her. “You’re not traveling. I am. If I don’t mind, I don’t see why you should.”
“Are you kidding?” she said. “I’m tired of having you gone. Of spending half the night waiting up for you. Of worrying about plane crashes and terrorist attacks.”
“I have more of a chance of getting killed in a car accident than a plane wreck. And I telecommute when I’m home, so I rarely leave the house. You probably see more of me than most wives see of their husbands.”
Frustration caused Reenie to clench her jaw. They’d had this argument so many times she was beginning to feel as though they were on some kind of merry-go-round. She missed him, he came home, they made love, they argued, he left. And then it started all over again.
She needed to stop the cycle.
“That’s not true,” she said. “You might stay home, but you’re still working when you’re here. I don’t get any more of your attention than if you worked outside the house those two weeks. And you’re missing a lot of important events with the kids when you’re gone.”
He’d closed his eyes again, but she knew by the deep vee between his eyebrows that he was far from relaxed. “Like what?”
“Like Jennifer’s school play last week.”
“You videotaped it for me, didn’t you?”
“Of course. But she played Tinkerbell, which was a big part. Going to those things without you just isn’t the same.”
He opened his eyes, but his scowl didn’t ease. “I’m doing the best I can,” he said. “Anyway, I’m home for two whole weeks. Why not enjoy our morning together instead of trying to make my life miserable?” As he sat up, the blankets fell to his waist, revealing the flat stomach and muscular chest Reenie admired so much. After sleeping with him for eleven years, she knew every inch of his body. She knew his moods, too, and recognized the irritation in his expression.
“When do you want to talk about it?” she challenged. “When you’re home you say, ‘Don’t ruin the time we have together.’ When you’re gone you’re too busy to call, or you say, ‘We’ll talk about it when I get home.’ What do I have to do? Make an appointment with you to air my grievances?”
“You shouldn’t have any grievances,” he said. “You’ve got the house, the kids, your folks, the town you grew up in. What more can a woman ask for?”
Despite her desperation to change the situation, Reenie couldn’t help wondering if she was being as selfish as he implied. The possibility that she had no right to ask him to quit Softscape, Inc., always undermined her resolve. But she’d put up with his job for eleven years. Wasn’t that enough?
“I want to buy the Higley farm,” she said. “Myrtle has lowered the price by twenty thousand. At this point, it’s a steal. And I know we can make it work. I’m ready for a new challenge, for something we can do together.”
He chuckled softly, as if she was Isabella, asking for her own reindeer for Christmas. “It’s a broken-down old farm. And you don’t know the first thing about running it.”
She tried not to let his patronizing tone get to her. “My parents gave me riding lessons when I was growing up. I know how to care for horses.”
“That isn’t farming.”
“Horses are part of the experience I’m looking for, and I could learn the rest. I realize it’d require a sacrifice on your part. But I’ve been sacrificing for your job since we got married. When is it my turn? Why is what you want always so much more important than what I want?”
God, that did sound selfish, Reenie realized. Was it? Should she simply continue to kiss her husband goodbye every two weeks and quit dreaming of a time when she wouldn’t have to do so? Or did she have the right to call the shots once in a while?
“I’m the one who’s supporting the family.” Shoving the blankets aside, he got up and strode naked into the bathroom. “I’m good at developing business software, and I know I can pay the mortgage with the job I have right now,” he called out through the open door. “I don’t think we’d even be able to make the electric bill if I decided to become a farmer. I don’t know the first thing about it.”
“You wouldn’t be doing it alone. I’ll be there to help. We can make it work, Keith. I know we can.”
The toilet flushed and the tap in the sink went on. “What’s up with you, Reenie?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Since when did you become so…clingy?”
Reenie’s jaw dropped. She was clingy? Because she wanted him home at night like a regular husband? “You don’t want to be with me all the time?” she asked.
When he came out of the bathroom, he was pinching his neck as if the tightness in his muscles was giving him a headache. “That’s not it. You’re…driving me insane with all of this—” he made an impatient motion with his hand “—badgering.”
“If I’m making your life so miserable, maybe we need to split up and go our separate ways.”
She’d never suggested such a drastic measure before. Even she was shocked to hear the words spoken aloud. And she could tell it had an effect on him, because the color drained from his face.
Crossing to the bed, he gathered her in his arms. “Hey, don’t talk like that. We’re going to be together forever, remember?”
They’d made that promise to each other, but…She leaned her forehead on his shoulder. “I want you home at night instead of flying all over the country.”
The tension in his arms slackened, and he pulled away. “I’ll think about it,” he said, drawing on his boxers. But Reenie knew “I’ll think about it” was just another ploy to get her to back off. “I’ll think about it” was Keith’s Plan B. If “Why are you starting a fight when we could be having fun together?” didn’t work, he’d say something noncommittal yet pacifying.
“That’s not good enough, Keith,” she said. “You’ve told me you’ll think about it before, but you never do. Left to you, the subject would never come up.”