Chapter 15 - The First Fight in My New MarriageLuke and I had our first real married fight over a dishwasher.
At least that was how it started.
“You loaded it wrong.”
“There is no morally correct way to load a dishwasher.”
“There absolutely is.”
“You married an artist, not an engineer.”
“You put a wooden cutting board on the bottom rack.”
“It wanted adventure.”
I pulled it out.
Luke laughed.
I didn't.
His smile disappeared.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Clara.”
There it was.
The word.
Nothing.
I had spent years saying it to Nathan when everything was wrong.
Luke leaned against the counter.
“Try again.”
I hated him a little for knowing me.
“I deleted Nathan's number.”
“Okay.”
“That's all?”
“What response were you expecting?”
“I don't know.”
Luke studied me.
Then he understood.
“You think I'm relieved.”
“Aren't you?”
“Clara, I don't compete with Nathan.”
“Everyone competes with an ex.”
“No. Insecure people compete with ghosts.”
That irritated me.
“You're never jealous?”
“Of course I am.”
I blinked.
“Of Nathan?”
“Sometimes.”
That surprised me.
“When?”
“When you know what coffee he orders without asking. When the two of you remember a joke nobody else understands. When he gives you something connected to a life I wasn't part of.”
My throat tightened.
“Why haven't you said anything?”
“Because jealousy is information, not an instruction.”
I stared.
“That sounds like something from therapy.”
“It is.”
“You're in therapy?”
“Sometimes.”
“How did I not know that?”
Luke's expression changed.
“You never asked.”
The words struck harder than he intended.
He saw it.
“Oh.”
I stepped backward.
“Don't.”
“Clara, I didn't mean—”
“I know exactly what you meant.”
I walked into the bedroom.
Luke followed but stayed in the doorway.
“I wasn't comparing you to Nathan.”
“I know.”
“You're doing it.”
That stopped me.
He was right.
I had spent so much time defining my new marriage by everything my old one had lacked that I had accidentally made Nathan part of the architecture.
Luke sat on the floor.
I looked at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting.”
“For?”
“You.”
I sat opposite him.
“I don't want to become the person who expects you to prove you're not Nathan every day.”
“Then don't.”
“Excellent advice.”
“Thank you.”
I threw a pillow at him.
He caught it.
Then his expression softened.
“You know what scares me?”
“What?”
“That one day you'll decide needing me means you're losing yourself.”
That hurt because it was possible.
I took his hand.
“And you know what scares me?”
“What?”
“That one day I'll stop noticing when you need me.”
Luke smiled faintly.
“So we have matching emotional damage.”
“Very romantic.”
“We should put it on towels.”
I laughed.
Then we talked for three hours.
About money.
Space.
Work.
Jealousy.
Nathan.
My father.
Children.
That last one changed the room.
Luke became quiet.
“We've never really talked about that.”
“No.”
“Do you want them?”
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
For most of my marriage to Nathan, children had belonged to a future we kept postponing.
When business stabilizes.
When travel slows down.
When the house is finished.
Someday.
Now someday was sitting across from me.
“I don't know,” I admitted.
Luke squeezed my hand.
“Okay.”
“You?”
He smiled nervously.
May you like
“I think I do.”
And suddenly our first fight was no longer about a dishwasher.
Related Stories
