Escalation Clause (17 page)

He’d brushed aside her attempts to explain, ending the night once more in a whirl of icy, single-word conversation. She wandered out to the kitchen. The sleek stainless steel and granite room had been a refuge at one time, Rob’s second favorite space in the house as long as he could be there with Blake. She choked back tears at the thought of him. It was unbearable, this grief. It pressed her down, smothered her, made her unable to eat, drink or sleep. And Rob was worse. Even after the calendar pages had flipped over nearly twelve times since the death of their beloved third.

The connection they’d had was shattered into a million pieces. And she couldn’t seem to reconstruct it no matter how hard she tried. A tear hit the onyx colored counter top, shimmered there, mocking her. She wiped it off, got a glass of water, and resumed her vacant stare out the window.

Her phone rang. She noted it was Sara, decided she couldn’t face talking to Blake’s sister at that moment, and ignored it. It rang again. Rob this time.

“Yes?” Her heart pounded at the sound of his low voice. He sounded like he was at the bottom of a well.

“I need your help. Can you get somebody to watch the boy?”

She straightened up. She’d never known him to ask her help with anything. Between the three of them, when there had been three, she’d taken the house and yard caretaker role, loving it. Nothing made her happier than nice clean rooms, a tidy garden, a well-organized house. Lame. She knew it now. You could hire somebody to do that shit.

“Um,” she cast around in her head for someone who could. “Why? I mean, how long do I need to be gone?”

“Not sure.” She heard the busy noises of his brew pub in the background. “Listen, I fired Stacy.”

Lila groaned. “Rob, not another manger? What is it with you?”

“I’m picky, sorry. I need your help. Can you?”

“What can I possibly do?” but she felt marginally better at the thought of working alongside Rob—the way Blake used to do—maybe that would help. “I mean, sure.” She gulped, sick at heart when she realized this was the longest conversation they had sustained in months.

“Call the sitter. Please, Lila. I need you.” And he hung up.

She set the phone down, her hands shaking, then picked it up and dialed the babysitter’s number. The girl was there in twenty minutes, and Lila pulled into a parking space in the underground lot near The Local fifteen minutes later. She fussed with her hair, straightened the casual dress she’d thrown on and walked the block over to Rob’s pub. She sucked in a breath and pushed the door open, odors of brewing beer nearly making her run back out the door. How did Rob stand it every day? This place was so…Blake.

She squared her shoulders and powered through it, found him in the doorway between the brewery and the pub space, yelling his head off into the kitchen. She put a hand on his arm, and he whirled around, his face an alarming shade of red. His angry look faded, and he held her close. “Thank you,” he whispered, then put her in charge of the bar, which was seriously in the weeds thanks to the giant art fair going on downtown.

Six hours later, the toothache-like pain in her lower back was almost more than she could bear. Rob came up behind her, put his large hands on her and rubbed the ache away. She smiled, let herself relax, and watched as the bartenders handled the remaining crowd. “You should hire that guy,” she nodded towards the tall red-headed young man who moved with ease around behind the bar. “He could handle it.”

“Actually,” he leaned into her ear, making her skin pebble. “I was going hire someone else. Someone much better looking and more capable.”

“Really?” She looked around at him, loving him so much her throat ached with it. “Who?”

“You.” He kissed the tip of her nose then headed back into the kitchen, leaving her standing open mouthed and staring at his broad retreating back.

By the time she got home, she hurt from her hair to her toenails. She’d not worked in a restaurant for years and certainly never one as busy as The Local. Rob said he’d be along behind her, giving her a promising squeeze and a bit more than just a light kiss. She fairly danced her way back to her car, thinking they must be past the worst of it. She paid the sitter, cuddled her son, holding him while he drank a cup of milk before he fell back asleep. Then got under the pounding hot shower propping herself up on the tile as it beat the tired out of her muscles.

She toweled off, thinking Rob must be home by then, but the house was still quiet and empty. Pushing the worry away, she sat, sipped some wine, staring out the window at the dark, Blake-less world.
No. Stop. You made a breakthrough today. Let him go a little. Love the one you have left.

She must have slept, because the next thing she remembered was the door opening and the sounds of stumbling and cursing. She sat, flipped on the light and watched the red headed bar tender leading Rob inside. The guy looked over at her. “Sorry, Lila, I wasn’t about to let him drive.”

She glanced at the clock, noting the numbers two fifteen flashing. Rob staggered to the kitchen. She ran in at the sound of shattering glass. He stood, fury on his handsome face, staring at the mess at his feet. “Rob,” she started towards him. “Let me clean this up. Go sit.”

He stomped past her without a word. She heard the men talking, then the door opening and closing then nothing. She swept up, used a vacuum to get the rest, wiped the floor down with a wet rag. Busy work, she knew, but she couldn’t face him right now or she would scream.

By the time she got back out to the living room he sat, surprisingly awake, staring out the window. His eyes shone. But he would not cry, and she knew it. “How do we do this?” His voice was soft but steady. He looked at her and her heart broke all over again.

“Maybe we don’t.” She said, sliding into a chair across from him. She ached with need to feel him, to kiss him to have him with her, all over her, inside her. They had not made love in so long, between his illness, the baby’s birth and Blake’s death all coming on the heels of the other, like the fucking horses of the apocalypse. He’d been an invalid for weeks after the transplant surgery. She shut her eyes against the utter horror of that memory. But all told, it had been almost an entire year since he’d kissed her, held her, made her feel like a real woman. She was starting to think he was getting some elsewhere, perhaps from another man.

He shot her a bleary stare. She met it. “Are you cheating on me?” He scowled at her, scoffed, and looked away. A spike of fury shot through her. “God damn you,” she stood in front of him. “Tell me now, Rob Freitag. Because you are not the kind of man to go without…without….oh never mind. Fuck it. Do whatever you want. I’m sure there are plenty of options for you, all shapes and sizes, lots of people willing to soothe your grief.” The words spilled from her, out of control.

Rob gripped his thighs. The look on his face was of abject dismay. She let a flicker of hope light her chest. If he would just let her in, a little, give her something. But they’d even taken to sleeping in different bedrooms. Him claiming that his insomnia was no good for her. They were no more than polite roommates. And she had no stomach for it anymore. “Maybe there are, but….”

“Good for you.” She interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest. Moving fast, without a word, he rose, grabbed her and kissed her, making her head spin with the familiar force of his passion. She gasped when he picked her up and carried her to their old bedroom. He hesitated a second, staring at the bed where they had slept, the three of them. She pressed her face into his neck. “I love you.” She whispered.

He set her down, still staring at the bed like a zombie. She stood in front of him, went up in her tiptoes and kissed him. “Go on, I know you can’t be in here.” What was left of her heart fell in little pieces to the floor then, sounding an awful lot like the glass on the kitchen floor earlier. He jerked her to him, slanted his lips over hers and pressed her back onto the bed, peeling her robe and his jeans and tee shirt off until they were pressed together, skin to skin. They kept whispering to each other, but the pure erotic pulse of their mutual need drowned out any words. He parted her legs, slipped between them and stopped, staring down at her. She put a shaking hand to his face. His heat hovered so close but he hesitated. She shifted, wrapped her legs around him, and he groaned and entered her, spreading her with his firm familiar strokes.

“God,” he groaned into her neck, thrusting hard. “Sorry, Lila, I…Oh hell.”

She held on tight, arms and legs wrapped around him, tightening her muscles, knowing the affect that would have. “Come, Rob. Please.”

He flipped them over, making her squeal, dug his fingers into her hips and stared up at her. “No,” he growled. “You first.” He pulled her down so he could suck her nipples, letting her set the pace. She rolled against him, her breath getting faster at the contact, the feel of his lips on her, of his cock sunk deep inside her. She looked down at him at the last minute, kissed him and let the orgasm take her, tumble her around and toss her under just like it used to. Tears leaked from her eyes. She was so lucky to have him. They were lucky to have each other.

“Ready?” he grunted, shoving up into her. “I need to….” He closed his eyes. She gripped him, rolled her hips. “God!” He grabbed her thighs and opened his eyes at the last minute, a tear slipping out of one eye. She dropped down over his torso. They held each other, tears mingling until the baby woke them at six with his usual needy cry for food.

Rob sat up, rubbed his face. “Jesus.” Lila rolled over and pulled a pillow over her head.

“Your turn, Dad.” She heard him get up, find clothes, and stumble out to the hall.

In what felt like fifteen minutes but turned out to be two hours, he came back in, Gabe gripping his neck, and yelling “Ma!” until she woke and smiled at them. But Rob’s face was tired, unhappy. She got up and dressed and took the boy, leaning in for a kiss, but he moved away, muttering about “hangover” and “nap.”

Knowing he had not planned to be at the pub that day, she played with Gabe and let Rob sleep, loving the little boy’s enthusiasm for everything from Legos, to dump trucks, to books. But something nibbled at the edges of her consciousness. Rob was still not here, not with her. They’d finally reconnected physically, but that was it, and she knew it.

She ran a hand down their son’s salt blond hair. He looked so much like Rob, but had more of Blake’s personality, eager, creative, temperamental, easily distracted. Dear God what she would not give to have him here with her right now. She looked up at a noise, saw Rob in the doorway, dressed in a Local T-shirt and jeans.

She smiled, held out a hand. “C’mon down here Rob. Play with us.”

“Da!” Gabriel shouted, pulled himself to his feet at Lila’s shoulders and tried to reach towards Rob. He smiled, knelt down, and held out a hand.

Lila bit her lip and watched their son take his first step, one towards his beloved Da, no big surprise. Rob held Gabe close, kissed him then handed him back to Lila. “I need to go in to work.”

She rose. “Did last night mean nothing to you, Rob?”

He looked away. “It did. But…I need to go.”

“Fine.” She grabbed the boy and carried him to his room. His yells for “Da” echoed in her ears nearly as loudly as the slamming of the front door.

When he got home, she had her clothes and few belongings packed, with a diaper bag and toys for Gabe. Sara had told her to come over, they would talk and figure out what to do from there. Maddie had spent the weekend with Katie anyway. So her and Gabe going there would be no big deal. She gulped at the concept of that—of her, alone again but for her children.

He gripped her arm, his stubbled face a mask of anger. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“I’m not living like this Rob. You don’t love me enough to even try to get over him. We could do this together. But you won’t or you can’t. Either way, I’m done.”

“But,” he held out his arms and Gabe went straight to into them. She bit her lip. “You can’t,” his voice broke as he pressed his nose into the little boy’s neck.

She steeled herself. This was not what she wanted at all, but she had to do it. “You have to decide what it is you want. I know what I want, but you aren’t even willing to meet me halfway. You are barely even here anymore. I am not living in this house with two fucking ghosts. I’ll be at Sara’s then find a place after that. We’ll work something out about Gabe.”

“Da!” the boy yelped when she plucked him from Rob’s arms. Gabe struggled, pushed away from her, and arched his back preparing for one of his epic tantrums. Rob put a hand on him, and he quieted, stuck his thumb in his mouth and glared at her, his brown eyes brimming with tears. She looked up at Rob, the man she loved but could no longer reach. His shoulders slumped, his eyes darkened. But he didn’t protest. So she turned and left.