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HOPE
As every other morning, I find William in the kitchen, and he places a cup under the coffee machine when he sees me at the door.
“I fear I will become too dependent on you, Will.” I flop down at the breakfast bar and a steaming cup of cappuccino appears before me.
He smiles and starts aligning the baking trays. Since Zach purchased the bakery, we have hired two new bakers and everything except the superhero cupcakes are now prepared there.
It’s been a few weeks since Zach and I started playing this game of boyfriend and girlfriend. When we’re together, I’m on top of the world. But whenever he’s not in front of my eyes, a crippling fear grips my heart. Worry sneaks up my mind, where he is or whom he is with precisely.
As I pour the prepared batter in the small mold, I ask William, “Have you met any of Zach’s girlfriends?” After I blurted the words, I realize how it sounds. “I mean the former ones. If…he had any.”
William’s hands pause for a beat before he continues tapping the molds twice. He finally turns toward me. “Hope, there has never been any of Mr. Teager’s companions inyourhouse.” He gives me a smile before going back to work.
Crap! What was I trying to get out of him?
“I’m sorry.”
Sometimes, I forget William is Zach’s and not my confidant. But in such a short time, he has seen me at my worst and best and I often feel of him as my dad.
But, with all his kindness, William is as sharp as a whip. I have no doubt he’s fully aware of what’s going on between Zach and me when we leave the house forlate-night drives.
“You are entitled to ask all sorts of questions about your husband. That’s your right. But I’m sure you can also talk to Mr. Teager in case you are worried about something.”
I nod, trying to hide my embarrassment from showing.
As if unsatisfied with my response, he adds, “If I know one thing about Mr. Teager, it’s that he is an honest man. He will not lie to you.”
I look at William and he smiles at me.
He’s right, Zach is an honest man. If I ask him anything, he won’t lie and neither will he sugarcoat. Maybe that’s what I fear. The truth.
William and I continue our work mostly in silence.
I don’t know why, but today I have a hard time focusing. My hands tremble and Superman’s cape comes out completely asymmetrical. I remove the icing, and once again, after taking a deep breath, start trying to ignore the worry gnawing at the bottom of my stomach.
Finally, when I’m done in almost twice as much time as usual, I stretch my back.
I enter the bedroom and find Zach still asleep. The blanket is pooled down at his waist where I can spot the waistband of his low-hanging track pants. His broad, hairless chest is on full display for my spying.
My pulse quickens as I look at him. I wonder if there will ever be a day when I won’t find this man so attractive. His gaze, his smile, his touch awakens the lost part of my soul. If I could, I would continue staring at him for all eternity. Whenever he’s around, my heartbeat skyrockets. Maybe that’s because I remember all the things we do outside this house under the blanket of night.
Lost in my thoughts I head to the bathroom.
After taking a shower, I loosely tie the robe over my undergarments and brush my teeth.
As I’m drying my face, my gaze lands on the purple box Zach gifted me during one of our dates. It is a self-care package with tiny, scented candles, small bath bombs, mini tubes of lip scrub, and all that stuff that I never owned. There’s even a travel-size makeup kit from a fancy French brand, which of course, I’ve never heard of.
I open the box with hesitant fingers and pick up the eye shadow palette.
When I’m done,I look up and my breath hitches at the sight of my reflection in the mirror.
This is so not me!
This woman with wide eyes, wearing cat-eye eyeliner, looking back at me, is not the tired single mom.Maybe because I’m no longer that woman,a part of my brain whispers. I’m a woman married to a handsome businessman, and in this reflection, I really look my part.
With Zach and William’s support and reduced worry of Mom, I have started visiting the gym on the ground floor of The Ritz at least three times a week.
The motivation for this rarity is also that I spend almost every minute without clothes when Zach and I are alone in his brownstone. He is not a traditional person when it comes to sex. I chuckle, surprised by my own naivety for thinking about traditional and Zach in the same sentence. He’s all for foreplay, making me wait.
