AllFreeNovel
Share Us
After Nikki left, I paused long enough to tell Nat she was fired.
“She won’t take you back.” She laughed in a kind of malicious way.
Not bothering to answer, I followed Nikki, only to be caught up in all the traps she’d thrown in my way.
When I finish the door,I grab my phone and make a food order. I tidy up the lower part of the town house, seeing how she’s been comforting herself with the champagne Jackson introduced her to, popcorn, and not much else. I fold the throw the blankets she’s been using before getting out new ones. Then I vacuum and load the dishwasher. I’m used to doing most of the chores between us. Gran’s house was mainly my responsibility, so I never made Nat really clean up. I see I handicapped her in a way because she clearly hasn’t picked up since she’s been here.
There’s a soft knock on the door, and I answer it. The deliverywoman’s eyes grow wide as she recognizes me. “An extra fifty if you keep this quiet,” I tell her. “My wife is not feeling well, and the press crawling all over us wouldn’t be good right now in her condition,” I say, milking the whole unconfirmed pregnancy rumor even though I know there’s no way she could be pregnant. Another thing we need to talk about—her keeping secrets.
“No problem. You can request me so no one else will know. And you don’t have to give me any extra tip. You deserve your privacy too.” She gives me the prettiest dimpled smile, reminding me of another person I knew that was once her age. Though nows, she hiding from me upstairs.
“I’ll do that,” I say, taking the food, doubling her tip. After closing the door softly behind her, I place the bags on the table.
I hear Nik’s muffled sobs the minute I hit the landing. The door squeaks when I open it. Her whole body stiffens. I sit on the edge of the bed, not touching her.
“I’d like to be alone, please.” Her body shudders under her laborious attempt not to let me see her in this state.
“Okay.” Clenching my fist in the effort not to touch her when she obviously doesn’t feel safe with me, I continue. “I ordered some real food whenever you’re ready.”
She doesn’t say anything but gives me a small nod after a few seconds.
I go back downstairs and set the food on trays I found inside an ottoman. I guess Easy concedes not many people would use her small dining room off the kitchen.
“Hey.”
I look up to my freshly showered and fresh-faced wife at the bottom of the stairs.
“Hungry?” I ask, sipping a glass of Cooper & Thief.
“Yeah.” She gives me the cutestwell, duhlook.
“Good. I got your favorite. Sit.” I nod to the sofa, my stomach tightening at her apprehension. I bite back a curse, knowing I was too rough with her. Her heart, her body, you name it. I’m sick with it, but I don’t know how to make it right. Men like me don’t ask for forgiveness. We don’t fucking beg.
“Eat.” My words sound gruffer than I mean them to be, but I can’t make myself take them back. She hasn’t been taking care of herself, and I don’t like that shit one bit.
She takes the plate, saying a quick grace like she always does, and starts twirling her fork around the fettucine.
She hums, loving the food. I watch, hungry for just the sight of her as she cuts into the pork chop Marsala before popping a juicy piece into her mouth.
“I was going to cut it up for you, like I used to, but I didn’t want it to get cold on you.” I clear my throat, watching her look up to me, still hesitant, still hurt.
“I don’t need you to do that for me anymore.” She looks down, swallowing hard like the meat is suddenly tough. “I never did, really.”
“I know. I like doing things for you.” I take another drink, not eating yet, content to watch her, getting full on the sight of her. People say you don’t miss something until it’s gone. That’s a lie; I miss what we had when we were still together—this—and I resented her for it. Blamed her for what she and Joi did to us.
Her eyes meet mine for a long moment. She chews her lips like she does when she wants to say something awkward. Instead she drags her gaze away, searching until it falls on the remote. Then she clicks the TV on.
“I fired Natalie,” I blurt out.
She pauses, keeping her face turned away. “Why?”
The night at the country club, Nat was the “emergency phone call,” only I didn’t know it was her until I was shown to the back room. Nikki turns to face me. As quickly as I can, I explain to her what happened between us and why I hung back—to let Nat go.
“Okay,” she says simply. Still there is something in her, a demeanor, a wedge that wasn’t there before, even at the beginning of the marriage.
Picking up my fork, I watch her as we finish the meal in silence. After taking her plate once she’s done, I add it and mine to the dishwasher.
She’s flipping through movies and shows when I join her.
