“How did you sleep?” I ask, handing her a cup of coffee.
She sips the coffee and frowns. “This is perfect. Did you just guess how many sugars I like?”
I chuckle, realizing I should have asked. But every time I’ve watched her order an iced coffee, I figured she would enjoy it the same way. “I just got lucky,” I smile. My eyes drift over her. She’s wearing a pair of pale grey sweatpants and a matching tight grey crop top. She looks absolutely gorgeous in the fitted top and low-hanging pants. I’m so used to seeing her in oversized baggy jeans and a big t-shirt, this is the first time I’m really seeing her figure. And I’m staring, and I’m thinking to myself,I really did get lucky, didn’t I?
She glances down at herself, brushing her hand nervously over her stomach. “Um, you said it was okay if I took something from the cupboard to sleep in,” she stammers awkwardly.
“Oh, of course, yes, no, I meant it. It uh, it just fits you perfectly,” I blurt out, not sure how to cover for the fact that I was staring so intently at her body.
“Ok, I thought maybe you were angry that I slept in Gucci,” she replies quietly.
This makes me chuckle. As far as I’m concerned, she could sleep dripping in pure gold, and I wouldn’t mind.
“It looks good on you. I’m sure the other clothes will fit just as well,” I say. “What do you usually have for breakfast?” I ask, knowing full well that she usually skips breakfast completely.
“I’m not much of a morning eater. The coffee is great, thanks,” she says, taking another sip.
“I’ll make us some bacon anyway. It’s good to start the morning with some protein. Your body went through a lot of stress yesterday, too,” I explain.
“No, it’s really okay. I’m going to go shower,” she says, taking a few steps toward the door. I sigh and smile. “Alright, I’ll make us something nice for lunch then.”
Blair hurries out of the kitchen and disappears from view.
I don’t like the fact that she negotiated that clause into the marriage documents. I didn’t want it there at all, but I’m hoping that, given enough time, I can convince her not to go through with the divorce. All my life, I never expected myself to be the type who wanted to get married. I watched my siblings doing it and saw how happy they were, but I never wanted it for myself. Relationships are so unpredictable and messy.
But here I am, standing in my kitchen, having just married a girl without even thinking it through fully or taking a moment to plan any of it. She has a strange effect on me. She makes me reckless and spontaneous… and in a lot of ways, I like it.
At lunch time, Blair doesn’t come down. She hasn’t actually come out of her bedroom all day, and it doesn’t take a fool to work out that she’s actively avoiding me.
That night, she stays in her room at dinnertime, and I start to get agitated.
At seven, I knock on her door, calling her name.
“Blair, dinner is ready,” I say through the closed door.
“You go ahead without me, I’m not really hungry,” she calls back.
Anger spikes through me. She can’t avoid me forever.
Without thinking, I push the door open, ready to tell her that starving herself isn’t healthy, but as I step into the room, she squeals and pulls the towel tighter around her otherwise naked self.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” I mumble, knowing I should turn my head away from her but unable to do so.
“Don’t you knock?” she blurts out.
“You can’t not eat, Blair,” I tell her, my eyes still drifting over her, noting how the water runs in glittering drops over her skin. When I look up at her face, I see her cheeks are glowing bright pink, hot with embarrassment. Her long, dark hair is wet and clinging to her skin.I wonder if she knows how beautiful she is.
“Ok, but I’m not sure ifnowis the right time to be having this conversation!” she snaps at me.
I cock my head to the side. “I’ll give you five minutes to get dressed before I see you downstairs?” I say sternly, not really a question at all.
“Fine,” she huffs, just to get rid of me.
I wait ten minutes before she arrives in the dining room.
She’s wearing a white crop top and a pair of tight jeans that hug her hips and legs, showing me every curve of her perfection.Damn. So that’s what she looks like in fitted jeans.My cock stirs, and I adjust my position, clearing my throat and dragging my eyes off her. “Sit, please,” I say, gesturing to the chair near mine. She chooses to sit opposite me instead.
“The chef made Asian stir-fry tonight. This one is pork and honey. He makes a brilliant ginger and chili one too, but I wasn’t sure if you enjoyed spicy food?”
