Chapter 2
T he warmth of our home greeted us, and I breathed a relieved sigh. We never turned the heating on when we left for the day, but since it was a cold night, we decided the extra cost was worth it. I lifted my cool face to the warm air as I shook the night’s frost away.
Although it comforted me on a superficial level, it did nothing to heat the internal chill that started to spread after tonight’s party.
Drew kissed my brow lightly before helping me out of my jacket. I was comforted by the familiar routine, even though the pit of unease still hollowed my stomach.
The car ride home had been tense, further fueling my suspicion that Drew knew he'd done something wrong. After Carly had slinked off, Drew and I carried on as normal, laughing and chatting with Drew's co-workers and their spouses. We even shared a few dances, although I couldn't look him fully in the eye.
After twelve years of knowing each other intimately, Drew was well-attuned to my moods. He knew that the smile on my face was forced, that the hand clasping his was limp, and the gritted 'I'm fine' meant that I was plotting his demise.
Wisely, he didn't dance with Carly. In fact, he seemed to stay away from her entirely, his presence firmly rooted to my side. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it didn't make me feel any better that he avoided her. It felt intentional.
He wouldn't do that if he wasn’t doing anything wrong.
I slid my heels off before climbing the stairs to our room. Even without looking, I knew Drew was re-checking that the windows and back door were locked. He'd done all this before we left for the party, but he still liked to ensure that the house was secure.
"Gotta make sure my girl is protected," he'd say with a wink.
He was good at making me feel protected and safe. Always considerate, romantic and thoughtful. My big, strong provider.
Lately, though, I couldn't shake the feeling that the foundation of our usually solid marriage was starting to slip. At any other stage in our marriage, meeting Carly wouldn't have rattled me. A pretty woman hitting on Drew was no big deal. I'd seen it happen—sometimes right in front of me—but I'd always brushed it off. I wasn't a jealous woman.
But we’d been arguing a lot lately, and the frightening thing was—they weren't even major blow-up fights. Sure, he and I had had our fair share of explosive disagreements throughout our relationship—any healthy couple went through bumps. We always came out the otherside stronger than ever, though. One thing I couldn’t fault was our communication; it was always on point.
But this…divide felt different. Often times we were stuck on different pages in our conversations, and I wasn’t sure which chapter my husband was on. Our casual inside jokes were now taken the wrong way. The pauses between our silences stretched, and they weren’t comfortable. A big fat elephant loomed in the corner and I found myself constantly switching my attention to Drew as his focus stayed glued to his phone. Bedtimes that used to coincide with each other's body clocks were now sliding further apart. He was also spending more time out with his co-workers after work, rather than heading straight home to help with dinner or to spend time together.
Sighing tiredly, I removed my earrings as I padded into our ensuite bathroom. I hated removing my make-up when I was bone tired and slightly tipsy, but my skin would thank me tomorrow morning. As I dabbed a sponge with make-up remover, I raked over my features with a critical eye. I knew I still looked good and younger than my thirty-two years. I credited that to my Hawaiian heritage on my mom's side. I'd inherited her dark eyes—beautiful and soulful, as Drew described them. I also had her to thank for my luscious black hair and naturally bronzed skin.
I went to the gym when my schedule allowed it, and although I wished I could get rid of the small pooch that developed in my late twenties, I still thought I looked hot. Curvy with an ass that my husband couldn’t help but tap when he walked past me. When was the last time he'd done that?
I took the pins out of my hair and proceeded to brush the long strands. They fell almost to the top of my ass. The last time I’d cut it was when an unusual heatwave hit St Louis a few summers back. Frustrated and hot, I’d chopped my hair into a layered bob. Drew had loved it but pouted that he couldn’t run his large hands through the strands, or roll the ends into a tight grip as he fucked me from behind.
I grew it out once the weather cooled, but the way I felt now about the state of our relationship—I was almost petty enough to chop it off again. Maybe then he'd notice me again.
Drew's heavy steps entered our bedroom just as I finished slathering on my night cream. I listened to the rustle of his clothes coming off and the sound of his belt sliding out of his pants.
I spied him through the mirror as he moved around sans shirt. The muscles on his back rippled as he chucked his clothes in our laundry basket before sliding on an old t-shirt. My husband was still as handsome as ever. The attraction I had for him never waned over the years. I loved him today as I did when we first met. Did he still love me just as much?
His phone beeped, and he paused his movements, pivoting back to where he'd left his device. Those alarm bells started to chime again.
I exited the bathroom while Drew tapped away on his phone.
I cleared my throat. "Who's that?" I took my time folding down the covers of our comforter.
"Hmm?" He glanced at me before shifting his gaze back down. "No one. Just Carly."
My heart sank and I swallowed down another lump of razor blades. "Kinda late for her to be texting. Didn't you talk enough at the party?"
His brow pinched as he placed his phone on our dresser. Face down. "She just wanted to tell me she got home safe."
"Oh." I fluffed my pillow—perhaps a little too violently. "Did you ask her to?"
"No. She left the same time as us, and I guess she just wanted to let me know she got home okay."
Well, fine. I would do the same if I was out late. But I wouldn't text someone’s husband. This felt too personal for two people who were just co-workers, even if they were work friends. Surely, she would have girlfriends or a boyfriend who she could text instead?
"Is there a problem?" His gruff question interrupted my stewing and I couldn’t pretend I was fine anymore.
I met his frown with an examining stare. "I don't know. Is there?"
He blew a breath out. "What is your problem?"
What was my problem? I lifted a shoulder in a nonchalant move that didn’t match the rage building inside me. "You just seem real friendly with her."
His hand raked through his dark hair. "Are you kidding me? We work together. We collaborate often. Carly and I are friends. Men and women can be friends, you know."
"Not when those women are texting my husband at eleven thirty at night."
"For fucks sake." He slashed his hand through the air. “I'm too drunk for this."
He disappeared into our bathroom, the door slamming behind him. I stared after him, my lips tight as I fought back the sting of tears. His reaction was way over the top, which did nothing to calm my fears.
When he finally came out, I was already in bed with my back to him. The mattress dipped down with his weight before he slid between the sheets. My shoulders were rigid, and my breathing suspended into short, quiet breaths as I waited for him to fall asleep. Hot tears gathered behind my eyes, and my nose tickled before I gave what I hoped was a discreet sniff.
His soft, apologetic sigh pierced the quiet before he scooted closer and pulled my tense body towards him. His hand smoothed across my stomach before his fingers brushed mine. Closing my eyes in relief, I grasped his hand in mine. Our fingers interlaced, and I felt his firm, reassuring squeeze.
I prayed we could hold onto our marriage just as tightly.
The next morning, I woke to an empty bed but was welcomed by the tantalizing scent of bacon. Drew's body clock didn't allow him to sleep in, even after a late night of free booze. He still got up at the same time, hangover or not. That could never be me, but the perks of being married to an early riser were the coffee and breakfast that waited for me.
As I padded down the stairs, the events of last night still ran through my head. I didn't want to make a big deal about something he seemed so adamant was nothing, but I also didn't want to be one of those complacent wives who turned a blind eye when something didn’t feel right.
Drew turned when he heard my approaching steps. He eyed my wary gaze with the soft appraisal I was used to.
"Hey," I greeted hesitantly.
He held out his arms, and I immediately walked into them. I breathed in his scent, comforted by the familiar smell of faint cologne. His arms banded tightly around me, and his lips pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I hate fighting with you.”
"I'm sorry, too." I wasn't ready to let go of him yet. I took a deep breath. "Things have been off between us lately." It was the first time I dared to speak it out loud. It was always something we tiptoed around, too afraid to utter it in case it made it real.
Drew grunted dismissively. "We're fine, babe."
I frowned at his cavalier response. Was I the only one worried about us? Did he really think we were okay?
"I can prove it to you." His voice dropped as his fingers grasped the edges of my shirt before climbing up my naked back. Tingles shot down my spine as his lips skimmed gently down the curve of my neck, taking time to lick at that specific spot he knew made my eyes roll. I couldn't stop the moan that escaped me, especially when his fingers brushed the edges of my breasts.
"Drew…" I breathed, tilting my head to allow him better access. His hands smoothed up and down my hips before they finally covered my breasts. His thumbs stroked my hardened nipples, and another hungry groan was released.
In the back of my mind, a fog of discontent still threatened to envelop me. We still had things to talk about, but I was too tired and slightly hungover to argue with my husband. I was also exhausted from our emotional ships passing each other by, that I simply wanted to forget. I wanted him to make me forget.
Drew's lips finally covered mine, and we sank into our familiar rhythm. His hands left my breasts, cupping my face as his tongue tangled with mine. I felt his groan vibrate inside of me as he plundered my lips, dipping to taste me.
His mouth left mine, and I caught a glimpse of answering desire in his dark gaze before my shirt was swiftly pulled up my body and over my head.
"Fuck, baby, you're so beautiful," he murmured as his heated stare raked over me.
A hot pool of lust settled low in my belly, drenching me with the naked craving I could see in Drew's expression. He never hid how much he wanted me. Desired me. I usually couldn't walk past him without his hands stroking me or giving me a love tap on the ass.
I missed this.
His hands gripped my ass, picking me up with ease. My legs curved around his hips as my mouth found his again. I knew where he was taking me. I gripped his shoulders tightly as I felt my body dip down until my ass landed on our dining table. He watched me intensely as he pushed his sweatpants and briefs down. His beautiful cock bobbed free, and I licked my lips in anticipation.
"You want this?" His hand stroked his hard dick, his stare glued on my swaying breasts.
I lifted my hips and pushed my own pants down before kicking them off. I slid my fingers down my stomach before dipping two fingers between my pussy lips. I widened them, showing my sexy husband my erect clit. Swollen and wet.
"Fuck me," I begged.
His fingers gripped my upper thighs, and I squealed as he pulled my ass to the edge of the table. He lined his dick up to my pussy, rubbing my clit with the head of his cock. I moaned before I snaked my legs around his hips, pulling him closer.
"Stop teasing me."
He grinned before his cock finally sunk into my wet cunt. I tilted my head back, breathing deeply as his big cock invaded me.
"Fuck, you feel good," he groaned. His head was thrown back in pleasure, his brow knitted tightly. "I can't get enough of you."
White hot pleasure coursed through me at his praise. My fingers gripped my aching breasts. It was my turn to tease him. And nothing made my husband hotter than watching me play with my tits.
"Rub those nipples for me, baby," he panted as his hips moved in and out of my crudely spread legs. He bent down, placing both hands on the table while his cock plowed me.
I pinched my nipples, the sting of pleasure making me wetter. Something Drew appreciated, going by his harsh groans.
His movements became faster, letting me know that he was close.
"Come with me, sweetheart." His thumb rubbed my slippery clit, and that was all it took.
My hands squeezed my breasts as a powerful pleasure exploded inside me. "Yes, yes!" I cried out, my face reddening as my orgasm continued to ripple through me.
Through the haze of my ecstasy, I heard Drew's rough sounds and his dick pulsing his spend inside me.
A soft kiss to my head and a panting brush against my mouth pulled me out of my sex daze. I giggled when he handed me a paper towel with a wink. After we cleaned ourselves and Drew trashed the egg that burned while we fucked, I settled into my seat with a hot mug of coffee.
"I spoke with Thomas last night," I said as I forked a crispy bacon. Drew stood at the kitchen sink with a protein shake in his hand. His hair was adorably rumpled and his firm mouth was red and slightly swollen.
"He said you ran a successful marketing campaign for your winter season. Your ad clicks were double what they were from last year and your end of month profits reflected it."
Drew worked for a major global travel company. They mainly dealt with RV and car rentals but were the top broker in the business, comparing hundreds of worldwide companies through their websites. Drew was the chief marketing officer. It was a job I knew he wasn't one hundred percent passionate about, but extremely good at. Still, he was at his happiest in the role when he traveled out into the field to film adverts for the company or update the website photos. It was when he could really utilize the skills he truly cared about.
Despite his dissatisfaction, it was good money, unlike the competitive and unstable climate of freelance videography work—even though I knew he could do it and do it well. He backed my dreams without hesitation, and I wished he’d extend the same confidence to his own talent.
He took a long pull of his shake. "Yeah, we had a celebratory dinner and drink last Friday."
I placed my fork down at that reveal. He hadn't been home until midnight last Friday, but he never told me about his campaign or how successful it had been. I’d thought he was just out for his usual Friday night drinks with his co-workers—although lately, they’d started to become far more frequent than just a Friday.
My appetite deserted me. "Seems like things are going well at work." I rubbed my thigh as I decided how to tentatively broach a subject he’d shut down multiple times. "Business has been good for me, too."
Drew made a sound of approval but nothing else. The silence stretched. How different from how we were ten minutes ago.
I took a deep breath. "Maybe we can talk again about trying for a baby?"
His face immediately shuttered and he placed his drink down with a tired sigh. "Frankie..."
"I'm finally making money; you're doing well. I'm not getting any younger."
Drew turned, clutching the sink. His shoulders were hunched, and I almost abandoned the topic. But I pushed through. "It's something we've talked about."
" You've talked about."
My head jerked back at the gruff retort. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Drew knew I wanted children. It was something I talked openly about when we started to get serious. I had a huge family on my mom's side. They mostly lived in Hawai'i, but I visited them often and relished meeting new cousins and cuddling newborns. Mom and dad had wanted more kids, but unfortunately, mom suffered from hyperemesis gravidarum for most of her pregnancy, and she couldn’t bear to go through the sickness again.
When Drew and I were newlyweds, we both decided to hold off having kids until we’d traveled and settled into well-paying jobs. I was certain Drew had been on board with the plan—he'd certainly given me no reason to doubt it.
Drew turned back and slashed his hand through the air. "We're still renting," he pointed out.
"A lot of couples rent and have children."
"Yeah, but that's not what we wanted, remember? We wanted to own our own home first. Our savings are supposed to go towards a house."
"My dad said he'd help us out." Dad lived in Columbia, still in the same home I grew up in. It was too big for him, and he always wanted to sell and downgrade. He'd offered us half of the sale towards a deposit, but Drew had promptly turned him down. It was one of our bigger arguments and was still an unresolved sore point.
"I told you, I don't want to take his money."
"Why? He said we can have it as a loan if we don't want to accept it as a gift."
"Christ!" Drew snapped. He dumped his shake in the sink. "I'm gonna head to the gym."
I flinched at his harsh tone. He moved to leave, before hesitating. His angry features softened when he spied my crestfallen face.
"Can we talk about this later?" he softly amended.
I swallowed and gave him a thin smile. "Sure."
But I knew later wouldn't come.