Christmas With The Houstons (Acceptance #4) (5 page)

After finally stumbling inside to take a piss, I walk back out to find Mike is sprawled out on the couch.

“You know…” he says, pointing his finger at me—his middle fucking finger—and I laugh uncontrollably. From the way he’s squinting at me, I know he has no clue what is so funny.

“No, I don’t know. Why don’t you enlighten me?” I answer, pointing my middle finger back at him and he finally gets it, laughing so hard he falls off the couch and lands with a loud thud on the floor. 

“Damn, that’s probably going to hurt in the morning,” he mumbles as he crawls back up to sit down.

“What I was going to say is… no matter how much I love Misty, no matter how much Connor loves Jess, or Daniel loves Kate, you and April are the holy motherfucking grail, Jake. Neither of you can see past the blissful tunnel of love you live in. You might be fighting now, but don’t let stupid shit get in the way of epicness.”

“Epicness?”

“Yes,” he answers with a yawn. “Epicness. I’d bet everything I own neither of you would ever cheat on each other. You’re not built that way. So the fact you’re fighting over other people is the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Not as stupid as you not finding Kate all those years ago,” I snap back.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. I fucking love Misty, and if Kate and I had gotten back together before she met Daniel… The second I saw Hailey, we would have been over. That’s a hard truth for me to admit because I love Kate. More than
anyone
ever will, in a way her husband
never
can, but we are where we were meant to be, and I wouldn’t have it
any
other way.”

“You’re right.”

“I’m also right about this. You guys have epicness. Don’t let pigs in blankets and housewives and Barbies get in the middle of greatness, Jake. You’ll never be happy without April and she’ll never be the same without you.”

I need to close my eyes for a minute to think about what Mike just said. Acting like an idiot with my wife isn’t going to solve my work issues.

“You stupid idiot, wake the fuck up!”

My eyes try to open but as soon as the bright sunlight hits them, they shut again of their own accord.

“I’m not fucking with you, Jake. Get up!” Daniel screams at me. It’s obvious he’s talked to April.

“Good morning to you, too, sunshine,” I manage to croak out.

“Kitchen
now
,” he commands as he stalks off.

“Fuck, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Who the fuck pissed in his Captain Crunch?” Mike questions as he slowly sits up, holding his head in his hands.

“Apparently I did.” I slowly push myself off the chair, holding my own head.

“Come on, there’s ibuprofen in the kitchen.”

There’s also coffee and food; Daniel always knows how to cure a hangover.

He’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. Damn, he looks pissed, but I don’t blame him. He is April’s best friend.

Mike falls into his chair and reaches for a coffee. After grabbing the ibuprofen from the cabinet, I also get two bottles of water from the refrigerator. We both take the pills, fix our coffee, and grab food. Mike is eating away but my stomach is still a little uneasy.

“You know if you don’t eat you’re going to feel worse,” Daniel snaps, and he’s right. After taking three bites of a breakfast sandwich, I push it away. It’s enough for now.

“Talk to your
wife
yet?” The way he’s sneering at me is really grating on my last fucking nerve this morning, but it also makes me realize I have no clue if April has been trying to call. My hands are still a little shaky from the tequila and lack of sleep, but I manage to eventually get my phone out of my pocket.

When I swipe my screen, I see there are no missed calls or missed texts. That’s odd. After double-checking my text to her went through, I sink down into my chair and slam my phone onto the table.

“Fuck.”

“You
need
to fix this,” Daniel states firmly.

“I know.”

“No, Jake, I don’t think you do know. Do you remember how I explained what happened to April in high school to you at your wedding?”

I nod slightly because anymore movement than that hurts.

“The damage you caused last night is the worst I’ve ever seen with her. If you don’t think your wife is sexy anymore, there are plenty of men who will.”

Wait, what?

“If you’d rather be hooking up with the neighborhood stroller patrol, no one is stopping you.”

What the fuck?

“But if you ever, and I mean
ever,
insinuate April won’t or can’t be the mother her children need because she chooses to have a career, a career which focuses on innocent kids who have
no one
in the world in their corner
but
her, we’re going to have a serious fucking problem. Are we clear on that?”

“Back the fuck up. You lost me at not thinking my wife is attractive anymore. My wife is the sexiest goddamned woman I’ve ever laid fucking eyes on. Why the hell would you think otherwise?”

“Because of Malibu Barbie,” Mike answers through a bite of food.

“Is that really what April thinks, Daniel? Does she really think I would leave her for one of the stroller patrol?”

Finally, he sits down and takes a drink of his own coffee. He looks tired. Either he was up with Haven all night, or April, or both.

“This is your mess, Jake. I shouldn’t have to play interpreter for either of you. How could you leave her in the middle of a fight while she’s seven months pregnant?”

He’s trying to piece this together; I can tell from the way he’s pinching the bridge of his nose.

With a frustrated sigh, I answer him.

“Daniel, I haven’t slept a full night in months. I’ve been working twelve-hour days at the office most days, and yesterday was the first full day I’ve had off since Connor came to work with us. I was tired and pissed off about that cop she works with and I let it go too far.”

“Ya think?”

“He was touching her in places only
I
should be touching her.”

“And you gave the neighborhood wives a show. Call it even. Your wife only has eyes for you. Go home, Jake. Make her feel loved. Show her she’s the only one you want. She’s sad, lonely, and absolutely hates your house.”

His words dig a knife straight through my heart. April and I worked hard for that house. She refused to let me buy it. We started putting money into an account when we were freshmen in college to save for a down payment. We’ve got a mortgage just like most everyone else, and we decorated it from top to bottom together. Our home is my sanctuary. How long has April been unhappy there?

My heart feels damaged and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t understand what is going on with the two of us, but we’ve never been the kind of people who fight over stupid things. My issue is when I’m angry, I lash out. April is usually the one who takes the brunt of it, but I’m tired of fighting with her.

Mike holds my gaze with his and slightly shakes his head. He’s warning me not to go off in front of Daniel but at this point, what does it even matter?

With a deep breath, I stand up and open the French doors to the patio, grabbing my sunglasses off the counter on the way out.

It’s too fucking early for this and it’s too fucking bright.

“Talk to me, Jake,” Daniel pleads, taking a seat at the table. I can’t take my eyes off the ocean, the crashing of the waves against the shore. Each wave different, imperfect in its own way, and yet still amazing, breathtaking, and inspiring. Every new wave is a new breath, another chance. The ocean is relentless, timeless, and never stops moving, never gives up. It doesn’t matter if the waves crash too high or too low—if they wreak havoc, destroying things in their path, leaving death and destruction in their wake—because the waves eventually recede. They calm, the beauty resets, and they become perfect imperfections all over again.

Just like April and me… perfectly imperfect.

The first time I ever laid eyes on April, I was fifteen years old. There was something about her that stopped me in my tracks. Right away, I could tell she was shy; she was animated with her friends but kept averting her gaze when other people approached. Everything about her was subtle—her makeup minimal, her perfume light, her hair wavy and natural. Even her clothes were simple—jeans, t-shirt, and Vans—but she was beautiful.

I loved the fact she wasn’t a cookie cutter; she had no desire to be overly trendy and in your face. She was unique, a little bigger than other girls, but it only made her more attractive to me. She had curves in places other girls were missing them or hadn’t developed yet, and at our age, that was a plus. Of course, I’d dated other girls before her, even as I first started dating her—before we were exclusive. But no one sparked that feeling deep down inside of me the way she did.

She was special, and I knew the second I saw her she was going to change my life. Of course, I didn’t want to admit she was my forever to my fifteen-year-old self. I was captain of the football team and had more friends and family than I could count. I never felt excluded; I just never felt connected
until her
.

From the day we met, I couldn’t get her out of my mind—couldn’t wait to see her, to talk to her. Even when I had nothing to say, I just wanted to hear her voice. Something about April soothed me, comforted me, she made me feel like I belonged. There were no pretenses with the two of us; we were always exactly who we were and it made our relationship easy. So easy, in fact, we quickly realized the two of us were meant to be.

April is my home, and when we fight—when our world is thrown into discord—I lash out. Nothing makes me angrier than feeling like my home is at risk. Absolutely nothing pisses me off faster than knowing some douchebag wants what’s mine. That coupled with everything going on lately, I can’t help feeling as if she’s slipping away from me.

That can’t happen.

“Jake, sit down. Let’s hash this shit out,” Mike says, tapping my shoulder to get my attention. Nodding, I take a seat at the table but my eyes are still mesmerized by the waves crashing against the shore.

“Why would April think I don’t find her attractive? Is it really because of Trina and the stroller patrol?”

I’m not a stupid man, but I also don’t think I’ve ever given my wife a reason to think I’d stray from our marriage. It took twelve years to get that wedding band on her finger and she doesn’t get to take it off.

Not now, not ever.

“I think it’s more of the fact you were half-naked in front of them, giving them a show,” Daniel replies cautiously.

“Jesus Christ, I didn’t even know they were standing there until April came out with her eyes bugging out of her head, looking like she was going to murder someone. I’ve had a lot going on. I was working out my frustrations and trying to get the yard decorated before April woke up.”

“Did you explain that to her?”

“No, I didn’t get a chance before she started freaking out. We ended up fighting until we fucked our frustrations out, or so I thought, but as soon as we were done we were fighting again.”

“Jake, she’s pregnant. You’re going to have to give some leeway to her crazy. The hormones get worse the closer she gets to her due date. You saw what we all went through. You’re going to have to let some shit slide.”

Daniel nods his head in agreement with Mike.

“Even Kate flipped out about the stupidest shit while she was pregnant with Haven.”

“Maybe.” I answer nonchalantly. “But I’m a little more concerned about the other things we can’t get past.”  

“Oh yeah, your
fundamental differences,
” Mike says, using air quotations as if it’s a fucking joke.

Daniel laughs and abruptly stops when he sees the look on my face. This isn’t a joke to me; it’s my life. My
entire
life.

“You’re serious?” he asks, astonished. “What kind of differences do you think you and April have that you can’t surpass?”

“Let’s see, she has a co-worker who wants to fuck her… pregnant or not. She still can’t accept my money, she refuses to quit her job, she thinks I’d cheat on her… oh, and now she hates our home. The same house we poured blood, sweat, and tears into to make ours. A house she loved until yesterday, or so I thought. She has everything she could ever want at her fingertips, why can’t she just let me take care of her?”

“Maybe because she doesn’t want to lose herself?” Daniels eyes are flashing with anger.

“You married one of the most real and honest women on the planet, Jake. She’s loyal to a fault, has an admirable work ethic, and wants to continue to grow in life. Do you really want a woman who is complacent to just let you do everything and run the show while she’s barefoot and pregnant in your kitchen?”

“Hasn’t he been asking for that for years?” Mike reminds him.

At least someone was listening.

“Look, Jake, I know you’re stressed at work…”

“She told you?” I ask incredulously.

“No, she didn’t give me any details, just said you’re stressed, working late, and not sleeping much. You said it yourself ten minutes ago. She’s worried about you and it seems for good reason. I’ve never seen you wound this tight.”