An Underestimated Christmas (Underestimated 3) by Jettie Woodruff

could tell when I was about to set him off. This one felt different, worried.
    “I’m concerned, Morgan.”
    “Well, you’re concerned about something you don’t need to be concerned about.” I ducked my head, trying to drown out my husband’s presence, and not freak out about something I didn’t need to be freaking out about. I didn’t have a problem. I wasn’t addicted to pain pills. I could stop taking them whenever I wanted. As soon as this appointment was over with Nicholas, I would. I wouldn’t take them anymore unless I needed them.
    “Did you carry Tad to bed?” I asked, trying to elude to anything too deep. It didn’t take much to set one of us off these days. I knew we were both treading lightly. I just didn’t know what to do about it. We tried the phone sessions with Deidra. I refused to do it after the second time. What was the point in seeking counseling if I wasn’t allowed to be honest, say what I thought the problem was, and let her decide how to get through to Drew? She couldn’t. She knew nothing about Nicholas. Drew wouldn’t let me tell her. I had an inkling that Drew was still talking to her, but I wasn’t sure. If he was, it was at the office and I was never allowed to see his phone. Who knew what the hell he did?
    Avoiding any form of eye contact, I bathed and washed my hair. Drew gave up with a heavy sigh and left to take care of Tad, who I knew was still asleep on the couch.
    I quickly got out, rushing to be dressed and in bed by the time Drew returned. I almost made it. My hair stayed wrapped in towel while I disregarded Drew and turned down the covers. He pretended to do the same, retrieving clothes for his own shower.
    “I was hoping you were still in the tub. I was going to join you.”
    “Yeah, I’m tired. I’m just going to read for a little bit,” I countered, knowing he wanted me to say I could come back. I couldn’t. I wasn’t feeling it. The only thing I was feeling was stoned off my ass. Two glasses of wine and two Lortabs was all I needed. Yes, that makes me sound like a druggy, but it wasn’t like that. It just helped me deal with everything a lot better than without it.
    I didn’t remember Drew coming to bed. I remembered reading about two lines of a book I’d been wanting to finish, and that’s it. I remembered kissing him back, or did I kiss him first? Regardless of how fuzzy things seemed to be in the morning, I knew Drew and I had some pretty amazing sex. I know I straddled him backward, sucked him off, took it up the ass, and sat on his face. I knew I did all those things with immense passion and pleasure. I just didn’t recall the steps. It came back in intervals the following morning.
    I laid perfectly still in Drew’s arms when I woke before him, secured and closed in his arms. My thumb swiped the tear while I lay listening to him breathe, sound asleep. It wasn’t going to stay like this. We would be at each other’s throats before noon. It was becoming the norm with us. Fight. Fuck. Repeat. Fight. Fuck. Repeat.
    “Why are you crying?”
    Okay, maybe he wasn’t sleeping. I lay still, not moving, trying to pull off a false sleep. My breath caught in my lungs and the lump in my throat wouldn’t go down with any of the three swallows. I didn’t want to start the day like this.
    “I’m not, crying,” I assured Drew, trying to spin out of his arms and get up.
    He held on to me. “Please don’t shut me out, Morgan. Tell me what’s going on. I can’t make it better if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
    That pissed me off. Drew knew it when I shoved him away and got up. Really? Don’t shut him out? What the fuck did he expect? I wasn’t supposed to shut him out, but I wasn’t allowed to talk about what we needed to be talking about. Oh my god. Did he really just do that? What he was really saying was, ‘Tell me what I want to hear, and pretend everything is okay.’ Fuck that. Fuck his fucked up perception of what the problem was.
    I