Page 79 of Bad Husband

That’s when she turns to me, and I see she’s crying. Actual fucking tears. “I never wanted that for her. This isn’t a life I’d wish upon anyone.” She motions over her shoulder to her son. “Raising a child, raising a son by yourself isn’t ideal. It’s fucking hard, and there’s times where I hate myself for doing it alone. Mostly because if anyone is hurting, it’s Grady because when he finds out his father didn’t want him, I can’t imagine how that’s going to feel for him.”

I can. It’s a shitty fucking feeling, believe me.

And then I feel bad for being mean to her. For a half a second. This is Nathalie we’re talking about.

That’s when Kip walks up to me. “Where’s Madison?”

The last person I want to see today is this dick tip. I don’t look at him. “How should I know?”

“Well,”—he pushes his sunglasses up over his head—“she’s your wife.”

I notice his right eye is bruised. Probably from another one of these dad’s. I bet he made a move on their wife. I’d deck the fucker too. I shrug and walk away from him to wait for Callan. I’m sure as shit not telling him we’re getting a divorce.

About fifteen feet away I can see Noah playing in the park where Grady is, and out of nowhere, another little boy about two feet taller than my son pushes him down. I don’t do anything because I’m half expecting Noah to stand up and bite him. Wouldn’t be the first time he bit someone.

But he doesn’t. He sits there staring at the kid.

What a fuck face. The kid, not Noah. I’m just about to walk over there when Grady picks up a handful of rocks and chucks them at the kid’s face.

Nathalie gasps from behind me. “Oh my God, Grady don’t throw rocks!” And then she takes off running toward them.

Madison reappears from the bathroom, and Noah runs toward her like nothing happened. She smiles when she notices me standing on the sideline. “Oh, hey.”

I smile too, but it’s forced and painful because I don’t think I have a reason to smile. “Hey.”

She’s quiet for a moment and then carefully looks at me, her voice just above a whisper. “Do you want to come by after the game and have dinner?”

“I thought you and Kip have pizza after every game. It’s like a tradition, right?”

Madison frowns. “We’d rather have dinner withyou.”

Did you catch thewe? I did. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

I don’t say anything, and she panics a little, her cheeks flushing. “If you already have plans... I understand.”

“It’s not that I have plans. It’s just I left a jobsite to come here, and I need to get back.”

And here I am choosing work over my family again. Isn’t that why she wanted a divorce in the first place?

“I’ll come over around five, is that okay?”

Her eyes brighten. “Yes, that works perfect.”

WE HAVE DINNER that night and it’s as if nothing’s changed when you look at us from the outside. A family of four, eating, talking, laughing, but something has changed. It hurts to think this won’t be happening anymore and I won’t be sharing a home with them.

When dinner’s finished, Madison stands to clean up the table and Noah since most of his food went on the floor or himself. I grab the plate from her hand. “I can do this.”

“The dishwasher isn’t working.” She turns her head for a moment to look at Noah who’s now crawling on the floor in the kitchen under the table eating what he threw down there.

“I’ll do these for you.”

Callan stands up from his place beside me. “I’ll help, Dad.”

I’m not wild about him helping and you’ll see why in a minute, but I’m more caught up in the fact that he's calling me Dad all the time now and not ignoring me after the other night.

Callan’s idea of doing the dishes is washing one dish, drying it, putting it away and then starting on the next. It goes to show you how different our personalities are in that aspect. I usually always break at least one dish while I'm doing them.

I laugh when he reaches for a bowl.

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