Page 23 of Skipping Stones
“Do you suppose,” he murmured, “that dinner can wait?” His lips crushed hers hungrily and Linney felt the room spin. No matter what, Mac always had that effect on her. She reached up around his neck and before she knew it, he’d scooped her up and taken her to the bedroom.
* * *
They lay side by side under the covers staring at the ceiling, not touching. Linney twisted the hem of the bedsheet in her fingers. What had gone wrong?
“I gotta go.” Mac sat up suddenly and shoved his legs into his boxer shorts. He pulled on his pants and buttoned his shirt in a rush. “You just don’t do it for me anymore,” he slurred. “You think you’re so hot. You’re just another wannabe journalist. I’m outta here.” He weaved his way out of her room and slammed the door to her flat. She heard him stumble down the stairs.
Sitting up in bed with her arms around her knees, Linney wept.
Later that evening, she put her glasses back on, got out of bed and cleaned up her kitchen. When she dumped the stir-fry into the garbage, she remembered the risotto that she’d scraped into the bin. Had this been going on that long? Just the thought of it made her feel ill. Tonight was a disaster. Linney picked at a torn cuticle while she waited for the kettle to boil. She made herself a cup of chamomile tea and curled up in her reading chair with her laptop. It was time for some research. With shaky fingers, she started to type the word “alcoholism” into the search bar when her phone buzzed. Linney slammed the computer lid shut.
There’s a great exhibit at the Tate. Want to go tomorrow?
Linney sighed. All she really wanted to do was hole up in her flat and try to figure out what to do next. But an afternoon out with MJ would be a good distraction.
Sounds great. Thanks for the invite!
The women texted back and forth for a few more minutes, deciding where and when to meet. When they finished, Linney muted her phone, left it in the living room, and drew a bath. She needed to think.
Because her phone was on silent, she missed several texts from Derek. Reading through them the next morning, Linney realized she’d been pulling away from her best friend. She just didn’t know how to talk about this problem with him.
* * *
Olivia and Derek enjoyed a rare Sunday when neither of them had work to do. They took a sunny stroll, gloved hand in gloved hand along Queen’s Quay and then stopped to warm their frozen fingers and fill their stomachs at the trendy bistro up the street from their condo. They sated themselves on the world-class brunch menu and drank mimosas. They’d been married for almost eight months and with the stress of the wedding behind them, they were deliriously happy.
The waiter brought another mimosa for Olivia, and coffee for Derek along with the bill. Derek put his credit card in the folio and then reached across the table and laced his fingers through Olivia’s. He looked deeply into her eyes and brought up what was on his mind. “I think it’s time we started trying for a baby.”
“Derek, it’s way too early!” Olivia pulled her hand from his. “I can’t afford to take time away now. I’ll look like I’m not serious about making partner. Maybe in a few more years.”
Derek was crushed. “I thought maybe we could slow down a bit. I can take fewer cases, and you could–”
“No.” Olivia cut him off. “Not now. It’s not the right time.”
Knowing he wasn’t going to win, Derek raised his hands in defeat. “Fine, not now. But I want to start talking about when is the right time. I want a family.”
Olivia nodded. “I know you do. Just not yet.”
* * *
It was the dreariest April Linney had experienced in London. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen the sun, and the damp cold had seeped into her bones rendering her permanently cold. London was miserable, and Linney’s mood reflected it.
She was on edge all the time now with Mac, and the state of her fingernails betrayed how stressed she was. Sure, they’d made up, and there hadn’t been any more problems in bed but Linney agonized about Mac’s drinking and felt powerless to do anything about it, watching helplessly as he changed from Jekyll to Hyde at the flip of a switch without warning. Some days she internalized what he said about her. Her research was poor. Her stories were shallow. Her scripts were trite. She looked fat on camera. She was lucky to have him. It went on and on. His words were at odds with how Gemma treated her, but somehow she believed him more. She dressed badly, she wasn’t attractive, she couldn’t cook well. He had put on weight, but he blamed her for taking his clothes to a dry cleaner that shrank them. How could she be so stupid?
Linney’s hands weren’t the only ones showing the state of things. Mac’s own hands often shook during morning story meetings, but stopped after he emerged from his office with a fresh cup of coffee. The little bit of research she’d done told Linney that the tremors meant alcohol was starting to leave his system and that when they stopped shaking, he was probably doctoring his coffee with something so there was booze in his system all the times. There was always a drink at lunch, and he was at the pub almost every night now. Linney finally started acknowledging how many empty bottles were in the recycling bin. She knew from the nights he stumbled home to her, that he wasn’t sleeping well. Nothing made him happy and how he was keeping up with work was beyond her. She couldn’t bring herself to share any of this with anyone. Not Gemma, not MJ. Not even Derek.
Linney sat at her desk, head in her hands, trying to battle through the dull throbbing behind her eyes. Dealing with Mac, on top of the stresses of the job, was hard and her head ached frequently these days. She’d had a tough week at work, putting in long hours on a story that would air tonight. She was looking forward to a quieter day tomorrow, when Gemma called her into her office and handed her a Eurostar ticket. “Go home and pack a bag. I need you in Rotterdam,” her boss said. “The port is in trouble. I want both TV and web copy from this.” Gemma was nothing, if not direct.
Adrenaline surged as Linney recognized the opportunity in front of her—her first story from Europe. “Thank you, Gemma. I’m on it.” She took the tickets and popped her head into Mac’s office before heading back to her desk to collect her purse. She waved the tickets. “I’m heading to the Netherlands,” she told him.
Mac looked up at her, unshaven and rumpled. “Grant’s your cameraman?” He grunted as she nodded and leaned back in his chair to take a sip of tea. “When do you go?”
“Now. I’m heading home to pack.” Linney pushed his door closed and walked around to the other side of his desk. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”
Reaching his hand out as he stood up unsteadily, Mac pulled her close. Still holding the tickets, Linney put her arms around his neck and they shared a passionate moment. “I hate that you have to go,” he whispered in her ear. “I had plans for us tonight.”
“I’ll miss you too,” she whispered back. “I won’t be gone long. Two nights at most. Probably just one.”
Linney smelled the alcohol on his breath—it was a constant now—but she gave Mac a quick peck on the cheek. She put that aside and headed out, excited by the assignment, but also aware that Mac might brood for a time. A few years ago, that story might have been his. She just hoped he wouldn’t pour another shot into his mug of tea.