I step closer and narrow my eyes. She’s got no blanket on and she’s curled into a tiny ball. I stare down at her bed and realize it’s wet. Growling, I hurry over and lift her tiny body gently. She’s wet the bed because Lena was too lazy to put a diaper on her. She knows she isn’t ready to sleep without them. Macy curls into me, and I can feel her damp pants touching my arm as I carry her to a clean spot on the floor.

I gently lay her down and remove her wet clothes as quickly as I can without waking her. She groans and her little eyes flicker open. She’s got stunning green eyes. Her little lips part and she squeaks, “Daddy?”

“Hey princess,” I murmur, putting her diaper on. “You wet the bed. It’s okay, Daddy will get you all cleaned up.”

“I didn’t wear a dee dee,” she says, her voice soft and sweet.

She’s called her diapers dee dees since she could speak—I never bothered to correct her. She’s only little for so long; if it makes her happy to call them that, then who am I to stop her?

“It’s okay, baby,” I say, pulling a fresh pair of pajamas on her tiny body. “You’re all clean now.”

I lift her up and with one hand, pull the sheets from her bed. I carry her into the hall, get some new sheets and then sit her on the rocking chair in the corner while I make her a new, clean bed. When I’m done I turn and lift her, placing her back on the mattress. I stroke her curls as her little eyes flutter back closed.

“Night, sweet girl.”

I carefully step out, closing the door behind me. I contemplate sleeping on the couch, but it’s so damned hard I decide I’d rather sleep next to Lena then fuck my back before tomorrow’s race. You’d think with all our money that we would have gotten a soft couch, but no; Lena insisted we get some fancy new style that’s hard as stone.

I get into the room and Lena is on the bed, naked, hair trailing down over her breasts. There was a time I couldn’t resist her; now I find it difficult to respect her or her body. How can I when she doesn’t respect our house, our marriage, or our daughter? I ignore her as I walk past, pulling off my shirt. We’re usually in bed at separate times, so I don’t have to have the “why don’t you fuck me anymore” conversation.

I slide my belt off and drop it on the floor before walking into the bathroom and brushing my teeth. I take as long as I can, but she’s still on the bed, staring at me when I come back out. She drops her legs open, exposing herself to me. I sigh. There’s just no nice way to reject her without hurting her feelings, and as angry as I am about Macy, I don’t want to hurt her feelings.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you without a shirt,” she says, looking at my chest. “I’ve missed it. You’ve gotten stronger, Nate. I’m lucky, aren’t I? My husband is hot.”

I don’t answer her. I just get into the bed, pulling the sheet over me.

“I’m tired, Lena.”

She rolls towards me, trying to straddle my hips but I push her off.

“You don’t fuck me anymore.”

I knew it was coming.

“Fucked you two weeks ago,” I mutter, dropping my phone on the bedside table.

“Two weeks is a long time.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“You don’t love me anymore,” she cries.

I sigh. “You’re hardly making any of this easy.”

“Not this again,” she yells. “You’re always accusing me of being a bad mom, of being a bad wife. I’m doing the best I can.”

I turn and glare at her. “Macy had no diaper on tonight; she wet her bed. Did you even check her before you came in here?”

She crosses her arms over her breasts. “She was fine before.”

“She was not, Lena,” I yell. “She’d been laying like that for hours. She was freezing. Would you like to sleep in your own piss? How fuckin’ hard is it to put a diaper on her?”

She starts to cry, big tears running down her cheeks. “You hate me. You think I’m a bad mom. You’ve never been proud of me.”

Fuck.

I hate when she cries, I really do. It’ll always be my weak point.

“I don’t hate you,” I say as softly as I can when I’m this mad. “I just want you to try harder with her.”

“I will,” she murmurs running her hands over my chest. “I will, I’m sorry, baby. So sorry. I’ll try harder.”

I sigh and put an arm around her. “I’m sure you will.”

Marriage means trying.

You can’t just walk away.

You have to fight for the choice you made.

I tell myself this over and over, each day. Marriage isn’t something you just walk away from. It gets bad; you have to fight for it. You have to try. I do, I try every day. I’m sure it’ll get better. I’m sure she’ll turn into the woman I thought I was marrying. I just have to hang in there.

“Fuck me, Nate,” she whispers, climbing onto my lap. “Please?”

I fuck her.

It takes me a solid hour.

Then I spend the night sitting, staring out the window because I know it’s gone.

There’s nothing left but I have to stay. I have to fight for my little girl, if nothing else.

~*~*~*~

AVERY

Morning comes quickly, and it takes me a solid hour to drag myself out of bed for my morning run. The cool air wakes me up, but I find myself trudging through my morning at work as though I’ve had no sleep. I’m sure it’s emotional exhaustion. The day seems to drag and it feels like it takes hours and hours before lunchtime rolls around and I head to the studio.