Page 28 of Croc Food

Raw sweat was trickling down my face, throat, and chest, soaking the waistline of my boxers, because I wanted her forgiveness so badly it hurt.

“That’s very pretty,” she said neutrally, but I could see a light in her brown eyes.

“Please, sweetheart.”

With a trembling hand, I took her face gently in mine and lined kisses down her beautiful silky throat.

“I was such a fool. Such an idiot. I don’t want you to change one single thing about yourself. Please, can I show you how sorry I am?”

But just as I was waiting in breathless anticipation, Zach bounced on by, his face all shiny and a big mug of coffee in his hand.

“Bitzer!” he caroled. “I have some more information about that business proposition we were talking about.”

“Do not give my wife a nickname!” I warned him.

But what business proposition? Was Bitsy talking to him about her business ideas and not me?

That sucked. I felt sick to my stomach, and Zach talked her ear off all the way to work as we strolled through downtown.

Somehow that fuckin cut the deepest. That I’d screwed up so badly she didn’t even want to talk about her hopes and dreams with me.

I came into the office dry and sick as hell.

What was the point of it all? What was the point of even getting this promotion if Bitsy hated me, in like the sweetest and nicest way it was possible to hate someone.

I got a little spark of hope when I opened my briefcase and realized she’d packed me a lunch.

Yes! We were back, baby!

Finally! Finally there was hope on the horizon that she might have forgiven me. I absolutely couldn’t wait until lunchtime when I could see what kind of funny creation she had made for me.

I was so delighted I couldn’t think about anything else all morning, and when we went to the golf course for a day of networking with some local business owners, I was shooting better than I had for weeks!

My wife was unique and irreplaceable and I had severely fucked up by addressing her as anything else.

Even though we had a very good club restaurant, naturally Mr. Van Buren would never dream of anything but sitting down and opening up our lunchboxes.

Even though I knew now he was a big fat hypocrite, nothing could burst my bubble if Bitsy was back to making me lunches.

“Boys, you’ll be jealous of what I got,” I chuckled, setting my lunch down right in the middle of the stock reports.

“Indeed?” Mr. Van Buren asked irritably. “Son, I was looking at those reports.”

But when I opened the lunchbox—I was aghast! She hadn’t forgiven me at all. What was inside was a chicken wrap.

Nothing whimsical at all!

How could I make my wife understand that I wanted her back, all of her?

“Damn, bro, at least it’s a change,” Kyle said glumly.

Well, as depressed as he was about not getting the promotion, I was 10x as depressed about actually getting it.

This chicken wrap had buttercrunch lettuce, cucumber, and avocado on it.

It was very healthy, very considerate. I had told Bitsy over and over that she didn’t need to pack me lunches.

But she had said it was no problem, that she enjoyed it.