Novel Short-Romance Novel

Seven years of marriage, and every morning Reuben James made two cups of coffee. One for me. One to take to the university. I always thought the second cup was his own. Until the day he forgot his phone, and I brought it to him at the university. I pushed open his office door. His colleague, Bonnie Locke, took the coffee from his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, smiling as she said, ""Let me guess. Today's latte art is a little doe — just like me."" She looked down. She'd guessed right. I stood in the doorway, watching the two of them laugh and talk. And it hit me that these seven years of marriage were a lot like that cup of coffee I was allergic to. Not worth much at all. ... ""Excuse me, who are you looking for?"" I turned around. Another one of Reuben's colleagues. Seven years married to him, and his colleagues still didn't know my face. I opened my mouth to answer. ""What are you doing here?"" Reuben crossed the room fast and steered me to the corner of the hallway. ""I told you, didn't I? Don't come to the university unless it's important. It looks bad."" He turned his face away, barely hiding the irritation in his eyes. ""You left your phone."" He took it and turned to go. Then he seemed to hesitate, and after a long moment he looked back at me. ""Why aren't you at work today?"" There he went again. Not one word I'd said had stayed with him. I'd started my time off three days ago. He had no classes this month, and I'd saved up a year of vacation. We were supposed to go to Iceland together. I'd brought it up with him six months ago. He'd said he knew. A month ago I reminded him again, told him to clear his teaching schedule. He was in the study at the time, talking poetry collections with Bonnie. He didn't even look up. Just said he knew. Last night I told him the tickets were already booked, that we'd leave in three days. He froze and asked me where we were going. To Iceland, I said. Did you forget? Only then did he scramble to apologize, saying the university had suddenly added a lot of classes, that he couldn't go, that we'd do it next time. I looked at the schedule posted on the hallway wall. He had no classes. None for the entire month ahead. Right beside his, Bonnie's schedule was packed full. Before that, Bonnie had called him in the middle of the night to complain. ""I'm completely buried, Reuben. You can't just run off and have a great time on your own, that's not fair. You have to keep me company."" He'd laughed, his voice fond and helpless all at once. ""All right, all right, whatever the great Professor Locke says."" I hadn't called it out then. Now, standing here, my chest went tight. Seeing the look on my face, he softened for once, which was rare for him. ""I really can't get away this month. Bonnie's swamped with her project, she came to me for help, I can't just leave her hanging."" I held back the sting in my eyes and said, low, ""But you promised me. How many times has it been now?"" He frowned, an edge of impatience in his voice. ""We've been married how many years now? Why do you have to have this honeymoon?"" ""Marie Gilbert, you're thirty-three, not some twenty-three-year-old girl. Can you be a little more grown-up about this?"" My heart dropped to the bottom. He must have caught the tears in the corners of my eyes, because he reached up and ruffled my hair, then sighed. ""Next time, I promise I'll set aside time just to take you. Okay?"" Next time. Next time. With him it was always next time. The honeymoon we'd planned when we married was Iceland. Three days before we were supposed to leave, Bonnie got dumped and threatened to jump off a building, so he flew off to be with her. Three years ago he said he'd make it up to me. A week before we left, Bonnie got sick, and he spent the better part of half a year nursing her at the hospital. Last year we'd even booked the flights for the holidays. On the twenty-eighth, two days before, Bonnie said her family was pressuring her to get married, so without a word he refunded the tickets and drove over six hundred miles to play her boyfriend. And now this. Chapter 2 Reuben was a man of principles. He liked plans. He liked order. He liked everything to follow the proper sequence. He was never late for a date. If we said seven o'clock and he arrived at one minute past, he apologized. Every anniversary, he worked late, because the project deadline couldn't be moved. The hospital where I worked was close to him. I asked if he could drop me off on his way. He said he didn't want to take the detour. So I caught the subway and switched to a bus every day, until my heels blistered, scabbed, and blistered again. Then one day the rain came down hard, and I stood soaked through under the bus shelter. Reuben's car drove past and sprayed water all over me. Bonnie was in the passenger seat. That was how I learned that every day he drove halfway across the city to take her to work and home again. He was always like that. Bonnie was the one exception in all his principles. ""Reuben…"" Bonnie's voice carried over. He glanced back toward the office, and his tone went hurried. ""I have to get to it. We'll talk at home if there's something."" I looked at him, and for the first time I saw how ridiculous I'd been. Forget it. ""Come home early tonight. There's something I need to talk to you about."" I turned and walked away. Reuben froze, took two instinctive steps after me, then turned back at the sound of Bonnie calling his name. Downstairs, I dropped the coffee into the trash. Coffee I was allergic to, a man past his expiration date. I didn't want either of them anymore. I walked all day with nowhere to go. By the time I got home, it was dark. I'd just stepped out of my shoes when a pair of hands gently caught me from behind and guided me to the couch. Reuben knelt in front of me and bent his head over my ankle. ""Why are you bleeding?"" I followed his gaze and only then saw the raw patch on my heel, the faint stain of blood seeping through my sock. He dug the little first-aid kit out from under the coffee table and started dabbing at it with an iodine swab. ""Does it hurt?"" He blew on it softly, every motion careful. Something in my chest went soft for a moment. I nodded and looked down, meaning to say something. My eyes landed on my ankle. On the bandage was a little deer. The same little deer shape as the latte art on the coffee that morning. My fingers curled in. The warmth that had just started to rise felt like someone had poured a glass of ice water over it. ""Reuben, let's get a divorce."" The hand holding the tweezers went still. ""Over the Iceland trip?"" He frowned, his tone disbelieving, as if the idea were absurd. I met his eyes and nodded. ""Yes."" He raised a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose, like his patience had run out. ""Marie, something this small, how long are you going to keep making a scene over it?"" Small. My things were always small. Only Bonnie's things were ever big. Reuben took a deep breath, set the tweezers back on the coffee table, stood up, and stepped back. ""Marie, you're not stable right now. I'm not going to argue with you."" His voice was pressed flat and even, the way you'd soothe a child throwing a tantrum. ""This divorce thing, I'll pretend I didn't hear it. Don't bring it up again."" Then he turned for the entryway and bent to change his shoes. ""I'll stay somewhere else tonight. We'll talk when you've calmed down."" The door slammed shut. The apartment went terrifyingly quiet. I slumped there in the dark, and the familiar suffocation rushed over me. It wasn't the first time. Reuben and I had fought over Bonnie more times than I could count. Every time ended the same way. He slammed the door and left me alone in the empty apartment. No clearing it up, no explanation, no talking. Just gone, like he'd vanished off the face of the earth. Chapter 3 He'd come back in a few days as if nothing had happened, asking whether I'd calmed down yet. Every problem between us, he traced back to my moods. It never once occurred to him that he might be the one at fault. Bonnie was always innocent. The only one being difficult was me. I curled up on the floor, buried my face against my knees, and swallowed down the burning in my throat again and again. I didn't sleep all night, and by morning I was running a fever. When I woke, I'd already been carried to the bed. Reuben stood in front of me, breakfast set out on the nightstand. Seeing my eyes open, he reached out and felt my forehead. ""Still feeling bad?"" I shook my head. I wanted to tell him to get out. But my throat hurt too much to speak. He picked up the bowl of porridge, stirred it, blew on a spoonful, and held it out to me. I turned my head away and refused to open my mouth. Reuben sighed and set the spoon back in the bowl. ""Marie, can't you act like an adult and stop making trouble for me?"" Trouble. Anything to do with me was trouble. My throat was tight and burning. I didn't want to say anything at all. Reuben stood there a moment, then set a small box down in front of me. ""I did go back on my word about Iceland. This is for you. Stop making a scene."" Then he turned to get his coat. ""I'm heading to the school. Bonnie has a paper due today, I need to go help her with it."" At the door, he paused. ""Get some rest. Don't dwell on things that aren't real. Once your fever breaks and you're feeling stable again, we'll talk about Iceland."" The door closed. H