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That snaps me out of my sexual fever. “Excuse me?”
His eyes widen as he realizes what he just asked me. “I mean—”
“You never ask a woman that! Especially not when you’re trying to have sex with her!” I shove him. “Get the hell away from me.” Honestly, I’m embarrassed that he’s noticed. I thought it was only a little bit, but maybe not. I yank my shirt in place and crawl beneath the covers.
“Sylvie—”
“There is nothing you can say to me right now that I want to hear, so please, shut up!” I curl into a ball, suddenly crying silently. When I feel his fingertips on my elbow, a new surge of fury comes. “So help me, if you touch me, I’ll kick you in the balls.” His fingers quickly disappear.
The tears continue to fall. I wish I could kick him out of our bed, but I’ve never done that. Never been pissed enough to do it. I wonder if he’d actually leave.
“Happy anniversary,” Scott mutters.
My eyes flick to the clock to see that it is the wee hours of the new day. What a way to start our tenth anniversary of marriage together. Unfortunately, that breaks me down more, and I start to sob.
“Oh, Sylvia.” Regardless of my threat, he pulls me in his arms. “I’m sorry, okay? I fucked up. I do not want my number one girl crying. Please stop.” He turns me over to face him, but it’s hopeless. “Are you still feeling off?”
“Why?”
“Maybe you should go into the doctor for a full workup.”
“Oh, so I’m going crazy now? Maybe my husband shouldn’t point out that I’m getting fat on our ten-year anniversary! Ugh, get away from me.” I try to push him away, but the asshole is an athlete, he’s a man, and those things mean he’s stronger than me. If he doesn’t want to budge, he’s not going anywhere. That only pisses me off more. My knee comes up and his hand moves just in time to save his balls from my wrath.
“How can I get us back on track?”
“Why would you even mention something like that?”
“I was curious if you actually had or if I was imagining things. I’m an idiot. You know I don’t care about your weight as long as it’s a healthy one.” The first time he said that to me, I was a bit insulted. Only because he should love me no matter what, but then he added, “The healthier you are, the more likely you are to live a long life and I need you to live as long as I do.”
That melted away any negative feelings.
Scott’s hand moves under the covers to my knee and draws lazy circles. He doesn’t say anything. Just waits for me to tell him what we’re doing next. I’m so embarrassed that he noticed. Then again, he noticed because he grabbed my boobs, not because he looked at my waistline. Scott is a boob man, so maybe I should’ve known that he’d realize they were a little bigger and heavier.
He shouldn’t have said anything, but surely he’s learned his lesson and that’s no reason for me to miss out on the sex we were planning to have. On that thought, I scoot closer to him, hands on his chest, and kiss him. The only time Scott gets a free pass and can order me around is during sex. Still, he doesn’t do it too often or excessively.
Tonight, however, he’s bossy and I find I don’t mind one bit. This is the distraction I need from feeling bad, from the anxiety I’ve been feeling, and everything else going on right now. Let Scott take control. I’ll be better at the end because of it.
There’s a vase of red roses on my nightstand when I wake up. A note is sticking out amongst the petals. I don’t have to reach for it to know that it says only five words: I love you. Happy anniversary. That’s part of our anniversary tradition. I’d bet all the money in our bank account that Scott is in the kitchen making breakfast right now too. It’s Saturday, so the girls would be here, but I happen to know that Scott talked my parents into taking them today for a sleepover.
The aroma of his breakfast hits me all at once and I rush to the bathroom. Ugh. I’m so over this! Why can’t I get better already? I brush my hair and teeth and return to lie in bed. What I should do is tell Scott that while I appreciate his efforts, I don’t want any of his breakfast, but any minute now, he’ll walk in with a tray of food.
Speak of the devil...
“Good morning, beautiful.” He smiles as he walks around the bed. I eye the tray warily because I really don’t think my stomach can handle it. “Don’t worry; there’s only French toast and some fruit up here.”
Maybe that’s not so bad. Scott settles it over my lap. “Thanks.”
“I’ll be right back.” He gives me a quick kiss and is out of the room.
Gingerly, I test out a piece of French toast. So far, so good. My nose wrinkles as Scott reenters the room with his own tray. He’s having eggs and bacon to go along with his French toast. “Stay on the far end of the bed. I can eat for a change and I don’t want those eggs and bacon ruining it for me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What do you have planned for us?” I only really know the next part of our day. After breakfast, we’ll exchange whatever gifts we bought for one another. Thank goodness I’ve had Scott’s hidden in the laundry room for a month now. I don’t think I would’ve made it shopping with how I’ve been feeling.
“Is there anything around the house you want me to do?”
I frown, my brows pulling together. “On our anniversary?”
