It's Time

Never Better

The drive back home is uncomfortable, to say the least. Spencer turned on some music to drown out the silence, but that doesn't stop my mind from racing. I felt him tense and saw the frown appear on his face towards the end of my conversation with Cameron. When I asked him if he wanted to talk about it, he just shook his head no. He hasn't said a word to me since, and I'm trying not to push him, but I need to know what he's thinking.

We finally arrive home after what has been quite possibly the worst afternoon I've had in years. Spencer quickly gets out of the car, avoiding my direction. I briefly hear him open and close the back door before he emerges at the passenger side with my crutches. I steal a glance at the bassinet in the backseat, and my heart breaks all over again.

"Don't get rid of it," I whisper. His stare, previously unreadable, breaks for just a moment before he nods in my direction. He reaches out his hand, escorting me out of the car, and makes sure I make it safely into the house before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Maybe we should talk?" I call out.

"No." He responds.

I head into our bedroom, wanting nothing more than to shower away the devastation of this day. I know that it won't change anything, but I desperately need to hold onto the things I can control right now. I'm not fighting Spencer harder on his avoidance of my revelation because it's out of my control. I'm afraid if I force him to talk to me, it'll turn into screaming, and I don't have the energy to fight with him.

I reach into Spencer's drawer looking for one of his shirts to change into after I shower. Gripping tightly to the shirt, I raise it to my nose, inhaling his scent. Even though he's just a few feet away, I couldn't feel further from him right now. In a silly way, this shirt makes the distance a little more bearable.

The warm water caresses my skin, creating a soothing effect that eases my mind. The bathroom door opens, and Spencer enters, walking over to the sink to wash his face. I open the shower door staring at him momentarily as he goes through the motions of his nightly routine.

"Join me," I shyly request.

Spencer pauses, and I can see his expression change to one of sadness through the reflection in the mirror. He quickly splashes water on his face before turning off the sink and heading back toward the door. I let out a sigh as I watch him continue to retreat from me.

"I made food. You should eat." He says dryly before exiting, leaving me to reel in the discomfort of our frustrating exchange.

What started as an understanding of the hard time Spencer must be having with what he heard on the drive home has slowly transitioned into full-blown anger. He's acting like I did something wrong. After getting dressed, I crutch out of the bathroom to an empty room. I continue out to the kitchen, and as promised, there is a plate of food sitting on the island. Spencer, on the other hand, is noticeably missing. The funk we are currently in effectively killed my appetite. I decide to wrap up the food and hide it in the back of the fridge. The last thing I need is Spencer's attitude, coupled with a lecture about how I need to take care of myself.

I notice light coming from upstairs and realize he must be in his home office. I hobble over to the closest intercom, finally finding a use for the annoying gadget that Spencer finds so entertaining. I've had just about enough of his childish antics, but if this is the game he wants to play, I guess I'll just have to play it better. I have never been more grateful for his unwavering commitment to this house solely for this very system.

"Spencer James. Kitchen, now!"

The lack of noise inclines me to believe he's still ignoring me. I begin to summon him once more before I hear footsteps approaching. We engage in an intense staring contest, him at the top of the steps and me at the bottom. Despite the lack of words we are currently exchanging, this feels like the most we have communicated since arriving home. "Spence, please. I need you to talk to me."