“I mean, she’s trying to be supportive, but she doesn’t understand the pressure I’m under. Last night when I got home, she was already passed out in bed. I didn’t want to wake her, so I kissed her head and just rolled over and tried to sleep. But then I left early again before she woke up. We’ve barely spoken in the last five days, and fuck, I miss her. But I can’t shut my brain off long enough to purely focus on her.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, man. Things were going well between you two though, right?”
“Before my dad had a heart attack, I told her that I loved her,” I admit.
“Fuck, really?”
“Yeah, and I fucking do, Silas. She makes my life better. I love coming home to her, but this week I feel like I’m failing her too.”
“If she means that much to you, don’t forget to make time for her too, man.”
“How?” I say much louder than I intended, reaching up to pull on the strands on my hair. “How can I be everything for everyone right now? There’s only one of me and my dad needs me, man. I can’t fail him. And I can’t fail me. I hate fucking failing at anything.”
“That perfectionist complex of yours is going to be the death of you if you let it.”
“Don’t I fucking know it.” I tip back my beer, draining the glass. I really wanted whiskey but didn’t want to drive home after. I can have a few beers and be fine, but whiskey will get me buzzed a lot quicker.
“So what do I do, Silas? How do I handle this?”
“You think I know?” he counters.
“Well, I sure as fuck don’t.”
He sighs and then adjusts himself in the booth. “First of all, you need to fucking breathe,” he says as I realize I was holding my breath just now. I let it out and then take another deep breath, exhaling as my heart pumps furiously. “Second, you need to give yourself some grace. You’re juggling a lot and you feel like you have to do it all at one-hundred percent. If you’re not careful, you’re going to be in a hospital bed after a heart attack just like your dad.”
“Shit, you’re right.”
“I know,” he says with a smirk. “But I think you need to talk to Waverly. Explain how you’re feeling and ask her to be patient.”
“I don’t want her to worry about us. I don’t want her to think that I can’t manage this. I know I can,” I say while nodding my head. “I just need some time.”
“Then try to relax, make time for her when you can, and just remember that this will get easier once you get a system down. There are men out there that have it all. It’s possible, right?”
“Right,” I say, mustering up enough confidence to convince myself that things are just rough right now because it’s new. I can do this. I can be the successful boss and doting husband. I just need a little time to figure it all out.
Chapter 17
Waverly
“Damn, that’s sexy!” Chloe shouts as Shayla holds up a turquoise corset and garter set.
It’s the first weekend in June and today is Shayla’s bridal shower. Girls from her old job at the nightclub and the coffee shop, as well as co-workers from the Wheels & Wings Facility have gathered to spoil the bride at a conference room in the Morgan Hotel in Los Angeles. Chloe and I transformed the space using room separators and splashes of teal, yellow, and coral décor as a backdrop for the champagne brunch for the celebration, and it was all worth it as I watch Shayla beam with excitement over her gifts.
“Wes will definitely like that one,” she replies as she places the lingerie back in the box and then reaches for the next gift.
Hayes would like that too, I say to myself, although at this point, he’d have to be home and awake in order for me to show him, and that’s been a rarity in the past two weeks.
As I sit and watch my future sister-in-law partake in another wedding tradition I didn’t experience, I try not to feel sorry for myself that I also haven’t really spoken to my husband much since he took over his father’s company. Given the circumstances surrounding his promotion, I understand the pressure he feels to not let his father down. And I’ve tried to tell him that. But when I bring it up to speak to him, he tells me everything is fine and then changes the subject.
Last night was the first time I’ve seen him before nine o’clock in two weeks. It was Friday, and I was so eager to spend time with him that I had a comedy special queued on the television and two glasses of wine ready to go when he walked through the door. But I could see the exhaustion on his face the moment he saw me waiting for him, which just made my heart plummet. Nevertheless, he changed his clothes and joined me on the couch, but passed out about ten minutes into the show. I took advantage of just being near him and cuddled him all night, waking up on the couch alone once I realized he’d already left for work this morning. He’s been going in on Saturday’s and Sunday’s to catch up on things he missed during the week since he’s still managing his night club investments until they can hire someone to take that part over for him, an idea that I can tell he’s not too keen on.
I wish there were something I could do for him, something to make this easier. And I know it sounds selfish, but part of me just wants some time with him too because I feel
