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Chapter 11
TRINA
I flop onto the couch, snuggling into the cozy cushions with a bowl of popcorn in one hand and the TV remote in the other. We’re celebrating the camera crew’s departure by watching a rerun of a Thunderhawks’ basketball game.
The star of the show is sprawled out like a lazy lion. The guy is massive. I tuck my legs under my thighs to create some space between us.
“I’ll give you some pro tips,” I say before shoving a handful of popcorn in my mouth.
Liam laughs to the ceiling.
I give him the wife glare. Melanie told me it’s about time to try out the superpower bestowed on me when I received the golden ring. Apparently, all married women have this ability, and now I get to use it.
I squint and tighten my lips until they fold inward.
Liam's face morphs into a mix of panic and regret.
It’s working. Without me having to say a word, he knows he needs to back off and beg for mercy.
His eyes widen. “Got a kernel stuck in your throat?”
I huff and slap my hands on my thighs. “No, I don’t.”
His frown deepens. “What’s wrong, then?”
“It’s the wife glare, dummy. Don’t you know anything?” I can't help but crack a smile.
“The what?”
“That one look which enables you to read my mind. Like if you leave your boxer briefs on the bedroom floor. I just need to stare at said underwear, and you’ll fall over yourself rushing to pick them up.”
“Who told you that trash?”
I cross my arms. “I’m probably not supposed to explain it to you. I’m obviously doing it wrong and need to watch some YouTube videos or something.”
“No, you were doing it right. I got scared for a second there. Now that I know what it means, I’ll perfect the art of trembling under your Medusa glare.”
"Good. An important part in sweet marital bliss, dear husband." My tone drips with playfulness. "But don’t worry, I will save the wife glare for special occasions. It shall be wielded wisely."
Liam nods. "Absolutely, my love. Consider this my official apology.” His brows scrunch inward. “Remind me. What am I apologizing for?”
A burst of laughter escapes my lips. I shake my head and press play on the game. “I’ll send you some YouTube videos too.”
We settle into watching the game. Liam picked one where they ended up winning, of course. I’ve seen this match before, and a week ago, I would’ve been hissing through my teeth each time Liam had the ball. But now, I’m admiring his skills. And that’s not all I’m admiring. My husband is a bit of a hotty, especially red-faced and sweaty. Still smoking hot.
What am I thinking? He’s not a real husband, Trina. And he’s not really yours.
Screeching of sneakers, umpire whistles and cheers from the crowd emit from the surround sound system.
Tandy, one of Liam’s teammates, slaps the ball, but hits the opposition’s hand in the process.
"Are you serious?" I yell, my voice tinged with disbelief.
“What?”
“The ref didn’t call the foul.” I sit upright.
“There was no foul. The other guy was faking it. Tandy didn’t touch him.”
