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Anna
While Greyson is in the shower, I cry. I know that look in his eyes, that look on his face, and the way he adjusted himself. He was thinking about something that was turning him on, it couldn’t have been me. I was standing right there; he would have done something if I were the one on his mind.
That alone builds my resolve even more, I still plan to follow through with it. But my love for that man knows no bounds. When I talked to Sara on the way back to the office after my meeting, she suggested I offer counseling. If he’s willing to go, there may still be hope; if not, then he doesn’t care enough to try.
Greyson comes down just as I start to put food on the table. He comes in and reaches around me to grab the pasta off the counter. I can feel the heat of his chest seeping through my blouse into my back as his arm grazes mine. I can hear him inhale my perfume, when he does, his solid chest brushes my back. That alone makes my nipples harden.
He leans, inches from my ear, “Everything smells delicious, Anna.” I know he’s not just talking about the food. My thighs tighten with his words.
“Thanks,” I say breathlessly.
We haven’t been this close or this intimate in months. I clear my throat, and he steps back, heading to the table. I turn and see he’s showered and changed. He’s no longer in his suit and tie, but rather in gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. He comesback into the kitchen to get a glass of water, and as he’s walking towards me, I can’t help but take him in.
His toned muscles are framed well in the shirt, I can almost make out the shape of his cock through his sweats, it seems to begin to harden under my gaze. My eyes snap up to meet his icy blue. One side of his mouth lifts into a cocky smirk, he knows I was looking. lifting his arm to run his fingers through his already messy brown hair, my eyes now move to his bicep as it flexes with the movement. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves, not quite ready for the impending conversation.
“Dinner looks great, Anna.” He says as he passes me.
My thoughts are all jumbled after that, and I want my husband, and I want him now. But the thought of him thinking of another woman kills that need like my entire being was dunked into an ice bath. I have a moment to compose myself before he sits down, and our normal daily small talk begins.
“How was your day, dear?” He asked as he served himself pasta and the chicken breast, then garlic bread. I made one of our kids’ favorite comfort foods, chicken parmesan. Cooking for the kids always brought me a sense of peace.
Lately, the thought of cooking my husband’s favorites has made me tailspin. I wonder if the other woman ever cooked it for him. Did he like hers or mine better? I was always bitter and short with him when I cooked for him.
He then passes me the chicken, and I pass him the salad. Once our plates are filled, I look at him. “Fine,” I respond, “I talked to Henry this morning. He called between classes, and he said he wants to bring his new girlfriend home for spring break this year to meet us. He asked if that was alright, and I told him I’d talk it over with you.” He has a small smile on his face. Henry is our oldest, and after a bad breakup last year, he hasn’t been serious about anyone. I can sense the relief he feels knowing our son has found someone he wants to bring home.
“That’s fine with me, as long as you are okay with it. He knows the house rules.” That last part brings a smile to my face; he implemented the ‘house rules’ about three years ago when our daughter, Sasha, had her first boyfriend over. She is the definition of a daddy’s girl; she once brought this boy over, and they tried to hang out in her room with the door closed. But Greyson wasn’t having it. I didn’t mind so much; I trusted our daughter. Not that Greyson doesn’t; he’s just an overprotective father.
When he got home and I told him she had a boy in there, he made rules: no boyfriends or girlfriends in bedrooms with doors closed. If they spend the night, we’ve gone on overnight trips with them before; they do not share a bed or a room. Typical parent rules, but Henry is twenty; I don’t think we need the rules for him, but Sasha is only eighteen. And there is no bending that rule; if it’s a rule for one, it’s a rule for both.
“Don’t give me that look, Anna; I will not bend the rules for him. Especially since Sasha called and said she and Daniel would like to come and asked if we could go to the lake house for the weekend,” he shakes his head.
“I will not have my little girl alone in a room with a boy under my roof until she is married.” That made me giggle a little. He knows me so well, and that made my heart swell.
“Oh? When did she call?” I was also a little hurt that he didn’t tell me sooner. But a small wave of guilt sinks in. I didn’t give him the chance to tell me anything when he got home. I had asked him last night and once before he left for work to empty the fridge and then take the trash out since it was trash day. And he didn’t. I feel like to get him to do things to help me, I have to resort to nagging, which I don’t like to do.
“Just last night, after you’d gone up to bed to prepare for your meeting today,” he said with a softness to him I hadn’t seenin a while. But the mention of the meeting overshadowed the warmness.
“Oh,” is all I can muster. After a moment of silence, I add, “I’m glad both our babies will be home, and they will be happy this time, it seems.” He’s the one to chuckle this time, and it sends a thrill down my spine.
“Don’t let them hear you call them babies; you know how they love that,” he says jokingly.
I am taken aback at how sometimes it feels like we can fall back into the rhythm of things, like nothing has changed. We fall into a comfortable silence, but my mind is racing. I don’t know how to tell him what I want after all that. Things seem different tonight, lighter even.
But I also know this won’t last; it never does. But I also know if I don’t, it’ll be in the heat of the moment, during an argument, and there may not be a chance to fix things if that happens, and I want to fix this, to fix us.
“How was your meeting?” He asked after a sip of water. I look down at the tablecloth, my fingers fidgeting with the napkin sitting on the edge of the table. My eyes sting, trying to hold back the tears, because it seems my husband has brought up the dreaded topic all on his own, without even meaning to.
“Greyson, there’s something I need to tell you,” I manage, I look up as the tears start to fall. My heart hurts so much seeing the confusion and hurt on his handsome face. I study him through the tears; his features may be blurry, but I know this man better than myself sometimes.
He runs his hands through his hair, again, making it messier than normal. My eyes roam over his features almost like I am memorizing his handsome face. Taking in his narrow nose, and his strong angled jaw. My eyes were drawn to his lips. Would this morning’s goodbye kiss be the last? He must have taken timethis morning to trim his beard; he never keeps it long. He prefers it short, like a few days of stubble. I love it that way, too.
I look back at his beautiful blue eyes, so full of pain and worry; he looks panicked, and that makes my eyes water even more. “What is it, Anna?” He sounds so pained.
Greyson
My heart is breaking; another crack is formed for every second that ticks by as I wait for her to respond. And based on how she reacted when I asked how the meeting was, from the way she looked up with tears in her beautiful chocolate brown eyes, to the way she looked like she was trying to memorize my face, like she’d never see me again.
This has to be when she tells me about the other man. She’s too silent. I can’t take this torment. I slam my palms on the table, making her jump.
