Presley Tower, Wesbury
I wake up with a sense of unease, the echoes of last night still clinging to me. It was a long, restless night, filled with a gnawing feeling that something’s not right with Aisling. I can’t shake off the worry.
Walking across the room, my cell phone suddenly rings. I grab it, hoping it’s something that can lift my spirits.
‘Good morning, Sally,’ I answer the call from my grandmother’s PA.
‘Good morning, Duke,’ her voice comes through, carrying news I wasn’t expecting. ‘Grandmother isn’t well.’
‘She’s not?’ My heart sinks at her words.
‘She’s been coughing all night,’ Sally explains. ‘She won’t be able to go to church with you today.’
‘Alright,’ I say, my mind now racing with concern. ‘I’ll come by to check on her.’
‘Sure,’ she says. ‘I’ll let her know.’
I hang up the phone, taking a deep breath in an attempt to steady myself. My head is swirling, filled with worry for Aisling, Simone, and now my grandmother too. It feels like my concerns are stacking up, one on top of the other.
I wander into the kitchen, hands buried in the pockets of my sweatpants. Aisling, Tara, and Bianca are already there, engrossed in their morning routines.
“Morning?” I greet them.
“Morning, Sir,” Tara and Bianca respond together, their voices sounding slightly in the spacious room.
I take a seat at the island, an uneasy feeling settling over me. I find myself gazing at Aisling, who has her back to me and hasn’t made eye contact since I walked in.
Tara shares a quick, awkward glance with Bianca before speaking up. “We’ll be in the garden if you need us,” she says, then leaves the kitchen with Bianca.
My gaze shifts back to Aisling, who’s walked over and is setting a serving tray in front of me. “How are you?” I ask, trying to gauge her mood.
“I’m good,” she replies with a quick smile but there’s something off in her tone.
As I start on my meal, Aisling stands nearby, her presence both comforting and unsettling.
“Do you want to go to church with me?” I ask, hoping she might join.
She shakes her head. “No.”
“That’s fine.”
Then she drops a bombshell. “I’m sending Tara and Bianca on a two-week vacation,” she announces.
“Why?” I ask, surprised by this sudden decision.
“I won’t need them,” she explains. “Because I’m going to be doing everything.”
I’m taken aback, my fork pausing mid-air. “Everything? Aisling, this is a four-thousand-square-foot house. You can’t do everything.”
“I can. When I need help, I’ll call for it,” she says, her confidence not quite reaching her eyes.
I watch her, my mind racing, trying to understand what’s happening. There’s a shift in her, something I can’t quite put my finger on. “Aisling, what’s going on with you?”
“I’m okay,” she replies, a little too quickly, before moving towards the refrigerator. Her response leaves me more puzzled, sensing there’s something she’s not telling me.
‘Do you want some syrup on your crepes?’ Aisling asks, quickly.
‘No, thanks,’ I reply, but there’s something more pressing on my mind. ‘What was that about last night, Aisling? I’ve never seen you like that. What’s going on?’ I can’t help but push for answers.
She doesn’t answer, just crosses her arms loosely over her chest, a barrier between us.
‘Why did we have sex last night?’ I find myself asking, needing to understand. ‘It was different, not like us. You didn’t want it. So why did it happen?’
She takes a deep breath, her gaze drifting to the window, but still, she remains silent.
I can feel my frustration growing. ‘If something’s making you unhappy, why aren’t we talking about it? We should be able to discuss anything.’
But she stays quiet, her lips sealed.
I try to change the subject, maybe ease the tension. ‘What are you doing today?’
‘I’m baking cookies for your mother,’ she says, and I’m taken aback.
‘My mother?’ I ask, confused.
‘Yeah.’
‘Did she ask you for cookies?’ The whole thing seems out of the blue.
She looks at me, her expression unreadable. ‘Should she have to ask?’
‘Aisling,’ I say, studying her, trying to read the signs. ‘What’s really going on?’
‘I told you, nothing,’ she replies, but her coolness doesn’t match the tension in her body.
‘I don’t believe that,’ I say, my concern deepening.
‘Suit yourself,’ she says, and then she leaves the kitchen, leaving me behind, filled with worry and unanswered questions.
‘Duke, we can’t just cancel,’ Leonard’s voice comes through the phone, full of urgency and disbelief.
grappling with the gravity of the choice I’m on the verge of making. I exhale deeply, my grip on the steering wheel tightening.
‘Leonard, I’m not kidding. Cancel it. Pull everything back,’ I say, firmly.
‘What about putting it on hold? We could proceed with the fertilization and then freeze the embryos…’ he suggests, trying to find a middle ground.
‘No, Leonard. I said cancel. I can’t go through with this,’ I insist.
‘Are you really not going to do it?’ He sounds incredulous, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing.
‘I’m dead serious,’ I reply.
‘It could be anything, Duke,’ he tries to reason with me.
‘Leonard,’ I start, feeling a need to explain. ‘She knows something, or she’s starting to suspect. Aisling’s been acting off, different than usual.’
‘You can’t halt everything on just a suspicion,’ he argues, his voice laced with a professional’s pragmatism.
‘But I know my wife, Leonard. There’s been a change in her, and it’s not something small. I can see what’s coming, and I know I’m in deep water here. I need this stopped, right now,’ I say.
There’s a pause, and then Leonard relents. ‘Alright. I’ll head to the office and start the withdrawal process.’
