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I laugh out a sarcastic, “Okay, Mark.”
“I’m not joking, do you dress in skimpy crap like this during the day? When Tyson is here?”
“You’d never know, would you?” I mutter. I’m still smirking. He’s still not. And screw being queenly and mature, because this is the most fun I’ve had since the wedding.
He sighs and steps back. “Just keep yourself covered. I mean it.”
“Uh, huh. Fine. Do you want some—“
“I already ate.” He almost yells as he storms out.
Looks like I’m ordering more of these pj’s in every cut and color.
•••••
“Excuse me, but we want the newlyweds to join us in a dance,” Mark’s mother says to the ancient oil baron we were pretending to listen to. Or I was pretending, maybe Mark was sincerely following the story. He’s such a great actor, I can never be sure.
I start to protest Annabelle’s request, but Mark grabs my hand, hard. I remember his lecture from our wedding and shut my mouth. Plus, I absolutely want to dance with him again.
Once I’m in his embrace, I can see the tightness in his neck and shoulders. He hates this. He’s not looking at me, but he’s not as rigid as the last time, at least. And he’s not sweating. I’d like to take some credit for that. I pick imaginary lint off of his lapel.
“I told you not to go into my wing, so naturally you went through my entire closet.” He says quietly, smiling and looking down on me like he just declared his undying love. His mother swoons off to our right.
“Is that your way of saying thank you for the clothes?” I ask, batting my lashes to keep up his ruse.
“So you admit you were trespassing.”
I shrug, “Carmen put the new pieces in your closet.”
“Mm.” He looks away to raise his chin in greeting at some eager young guy in the crowd.
“I don’t know how you do this with these people all the time, they’re so,soboring.” I say.
He leans in and brings our heads together, putting his mouth at my ear. I almost squeal out loud in excitement, just to have him so close. To smell his spicy, clean scent and feel his perfect hair at the side of my head.
“Look at the bar.” He instructs me. I nod. “Watch.” I stare as a couple we’ve met before are joined by a third woman. The man greets her and I almost don’t notice, but then, slowly and subtly, he grabs the third woman’s ass. The woman who is most definitely not his wife. I gasp. “Keep watching.” Mark says and then he pulls back and watches me study them.
The wife slowly turns. I think she’s going to see, to get ticked, to make a scene. But then she grabs the woman’s ass too! I audibly gasp.
“They’re not all boring.” Mark whispers.
“I guess not!” I say way too loudly. Then I let out nervous laughter, again too loudly, and Mark smiles wide and he grips my hand tighter. The lines around his eyes deepen. It seems so real. Like a true, warm smile. At me. I can’t be sure though. And it’s gone in a flash.
He clears his throat. “Tomorrow you’ll need to be home all day. All new appliances are being installed in the kitchen.”
My jaw drops open. He doesn’t look down at me. “Is, is that your way of saying sorry for being an asshole last night?”
He rolls his eyes. “Tyson had been complaining about those appliances for years.”
“But I’m the one who said the oven didn’t cook evenly. When I handed you a buttered blueberry scone last week.” For a second, I see something in him. A smirk at the corner of his mouth, a genuine crinkle around his eyes.
“I don’t remember that,” he shrugs.
“Liar.” I say.
He rolls his eyes. “This title is much more appropriate for us than the one from the wedding.”
I listen. It’s another crooner song since the party has a big band type group, like always. The title of the song isYou Don’t Know Me.He’s trying to be mean, again. Deflecting the fact that he just did something nice for me.
