After I Do by Taylor Jenkins Reid Read Free Book Online Page B

would kiss my neck and push us onto the bed. He would do the same things he always did, say the same stuff he always said. I’d stare up at the ceiling, counting the minutes. I wasn’t in the mood. I wanted to go to sleep.
    I held on to the sides of my open shirt and pulled them closer. “I’m not up for it,” I said, moving away from him toward my pajamas.
    He sighed. “It’s my birthday,” he said, keeping his hands on my shirt, staying close to me.
    “Just not tonight, I’m sorry, I’m just . . . my head hurts, and I’m so tired. We’ve been out at the smoky bar all night, and I’m feeling . . . not very sexy.”
    “We could get in the shower,” he said.
    “Maybe tomorrow,” I offered, putting on my sweatpants, ending the discussion. “Would that be OK? Tomorrow?”
    “Lauren, it’s my birthday.” His tone wasn’t playful or pleading. He was letting me know he expected me to change my mind. And suddenly, that enraged me.
    I looked at him, incredulous. “So what? I owe you or something?”

LAST WEEK
    R yan asked me where his leftover burger was from the night before.
    “I fed it to Thumper for dinner,” I said. “I added it to his dog food.”
    “I was going to eat that,” he said, looking at me as if I’d stolen something from him.
    “Sorry,” I said, laughing at how serious he was being. “It was pretty nasty, though,” I added. “I don’t think you would have wanted it.”
    “Like you have any idea what I want,” he said, and he grabbed a bottle of water and walked away.

RIGHT NOW
    T he ride home from Dodger Stadium is cold and lonely despite it being eighty degrees out and that there are two of us in the car. We use the radio to gracefully ignore each other for a little while, but it eventually becomes clear that there is nothing graceful about it.
    When we pull into the driveway, I am relieved to be able to get away from him. By the time we get to the front of our house, we can hear Thumper whimpering at the door. He is fine being alone, but the minute he can hear us, and I swear he can hear us from blocks away, he suddenly becomes overtaken with dependence. He forgets how to live without us the minute he knows we are there.
    Ryan puts his key in the lock. He turns toward me and pauses. “I’m sorry,” he says.
    “No, me, too,” I say. But I don’t really know what I am even sorry for. I feel as if I’ve been sorry for months now without a reason. What am I really doing wrong here? What is happening to us? I’ve read books on it. I’ve read the articles that show up in all the women’s magazines about marital ruts and turning the heat up in your marriage. They don’t tell you anything real. They don’t have any answers.
    Ryan opens the door, and Thumper runs toward us. His excitement only highlights our own misery. Why can’t we be more like him? Why can’t I be easy to please? Why can’t Ryan be that happy to see me?
    “I’m going to take a shower,” Ryan says.
    I don’t say anything back. He heads to the bathroom, and I sit down on the floor and pet Thumper. His fur soothes me. He licks my face. He nuzzles my ear. For a minute, I feel OK.
    “Goddammit!” Ryan calls from the bathroom.
    I close my eyes for a moment. Bracing myself.
    “What?” I call to him.
    “There is no fucking hot water. Did you call the landlord?”
    “I thought you were calling the landlord!”
    “Why do I always have to do that stuff ? Why is it always up to me?” he asks. He has opened the bathroom door and is standing there in a towel.
    “I don’t know,” I say. “You just normally do. So I assumed you were going to be the one to handle it. Sorry.” It is clear by the way I say it that I am not sorry.
    “Why don’t you ever do what you say you’re going to do? How hard is it to just pick up the goddamn phone and call the landlord?”
    “I never said I was going to do it. If you wanted me to do it, you should have said something. I’m not a mind reader.”
    “Oh,