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“This is a fine time to discuss your expectations.”
I take a deep breath and calm myself before telling the man of my dreams what it is I want from him.
“Okay. Number one. I don’t want anyone else cleaning our home. That’s my job,” I begin before pausing for a second. Geeb just stands there listening to me. All I can think about is him coming around the counter and pulling me into his big, strong arms and kissing me. I shake my head.
One thing at a time.
ChapterFive
Geeb
God, she’s beautiful when she’s angry.
“I don’t want anyone else cleaning our home. That’s my job. I would like for us to spend time together. How are we supposed to get to know one another if we don’t talk, spend time alone and discuss things?” That’s a good question. “I would like you home for dinner every night. If it is not at the same time, please let me know when so I can make sure it is ready for you and I want children. I know it is going to take time, but I want them. That is not something I am willing to negotiate on. That’s it. For now.” That’s it, she says. That's more than I was planning on giving in the first place. “Oh and I reserve the right to add as we go along. I don’t exactly have a reference for this since you are the first man I have dated or anything.”
“I see.” I mean what else am I supposed to say?
“Do you have any expectations?” she asks, staring at me like she is waiting for me to give her the moon or something.
“I haven’t really thought about it. Can I take a raincheck?” What else am I supposed to say?
“Sure. Well if you would like to wash up for dinner, it will be ready shortly.” Nodding my head in a daze at all of the shit she just dumped on me, I go upstairs and do as she has instructed. Instructed. When did I become someone who listened?Ever since you got the best thing that has ever happened to you living in your home.The delusional part of me says.
I am standing in front of the mirror trying to see something other than what I have seen for the last seventeen years of my life, and I can’t. When I look at myself, I see the same fat, dorky kid I was in high school and college. Sure I am taller than most big guys and I was an offensive lineman in high school and college, but it changed nothing. I am still the guy no girlreallywants.
Disgusted, I get in the shower and am out in no time. I grab a pair of boxers and sweatpants and put on a t-shirt. “Damn something smells good,” I say to myself, opening the bedroom door and walking down the stairs and I am stopped on the last step. For the first time since she has been in the house I take a moment to admire how beautiful she is. Beautiful is a rather tame word to describe her really. If I had to name an actress to describe her it would be Kate Upton fromThe Other Woman. Just shorter.
I also notice that she’s changed her clothes. Now she is dressed simply, in a white and black sundress with straps. It falls to her ankles, but it looks sexy on her. She is barefoot and I suspect that is part of what makes this moment more erotic in my mind. The only thing that could make it better would be for her to turn around and a swollen belly be underneath that dress.Whoa. Hold up. Back up and reverse. Swollen belly? What the fuck.Shaking my head I stick my hands in my pocket to try to stop myself from reaching out to her to make this a reality. I really need to get a grip.
“You are just in time. Do you mind grabbing the salad off the counter?” I turn and see she actually has a salad inside of some fancy looking dish I didn't know I owned. I am so busy trying to figure out when the last time I had a salad that I almost miss her question. “I hope you like chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and gravy?” Is she serious? Who doesn't like it? Do I look like I don’t eat fatty foods deemed not good for you?
“That happens to be one of my favorite meals. My grandma used to make it all the time.” Grabbing the plates from the cupboard, I begin setting the table. Minutes pass and the room begins to feel light and comfortable. Somehow we have fallen into a familiar rhythm right now as we prepare to sit and eat together.
“Alright. Everything is ready. Wow. You did a great job with the table.” I smile slightly, my chest puffs out a little beguiled by her praise.
“Thank you so much." I wait for her to put the dishes she has in her hand down and then I pull her chair out for her and push it in when she sits.
“Thank you.” I look in her eyes, really look in her eyes and I see nothing but appreciation.
“You are welcome.” Taking my seat on the other end of the four-person table, I sit unsure what to do next. She smiles like she knows and shakes her head in amusement.
“Would you like for me to serve you or…”
“No. How about I serve you. After all, you did all of the cooking.” And it looks fucking delicious, but not as delicious as she does.
“That would be fine.” She hesitates when she says it, a slight frown on her face and I can't help but notice how adorable she looks when she is not sure about something. I hate how strained it all feels, you know. Neither of us is sure how to bridge the gap and I know it is mostly my fault, but I also don’t know how to fix it without feeling a dork.
I grab her plate and put a healthy portion of food on her plate, placing her salad in the salad bowl. She drizzles dressing on her salad and hands me the dressing. Once I am done, I look and notice she is not eating. “Is everything alright?” I ask her, concerned I have somehow done something wrong.
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“You’re not eating,” I say pointing to her plate.
“Oh. I’m sorry. The way I was raised, the man of the house has to take his bite first before we all eat.” I take a moment to soak this in before speaking.
“I see. Is this a tradition you would like to continue, or would you like to try something different?” I can see her mind spinning the question around. Then like watching a light turn on a quiet room she lifts her head and answers me.
“I would like to try something different.” She stops and bites her lip before saying in a quieter voice. “A lot of different things.” I feel pride in her decision to make different choices for herself. I sure hope her quieter voice doesn’t mean she feels judged by wanting to try different things.
