Chapter 15
“Hey, you’re finally awake?” I say as I mix batter for tomorrow’s cookie orders. Zayn has been sleeping all morning. It’s now late afternoon, and he’s barely waking up.
“Yeah. I couldn’t sleep last night,” he says as he takes a seat on the bar stool and leans his elbows on the kitchen island.
I grab the sugar and measure a cup and pour it into the bowl.
“What’s going on? You didn’t sleep that good Friday night either.
” After we came home from the club, I passed out but woke up every once in a while from Zay tossing and turning.
He said he was having a hard time falling asleep.
He stayed up all day Saturday so he could sleep that night, but the same thing happened.
He runs his hands through his hair and shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
I turn around and go into the pantry to get more ingredients.
Zay startles me as wraps his arms around my midsection, pulling me close.
I tilt my head, looking up at him, and he kisses my cheek.
A slight smile forms. He hasn’t done something like this in years.
It’s one of those things that just falls away after being with someone for so long.
I giggle a little as his heated breath makes my neck tingle. “What’s going on?”
“Why does anything have to be going on to kiss you?” he asks, wrapping his arms tighter around me.
“I don’t know. You haven’t done this in a while.”
He loosens his arms, and I turn around to face him. “How much more do you have to bake?”
“I’m done after this batch of cookies.”
He stares at me closely, almost like he’s in a daze. His facial expression is hard to read. I stare back at him, confused about what’s going on. Maybe he’s fatigued from a lack of sleep.
“Let’s stay in and watch movies.”
An echoed ping comes from his phone, followed by two more.
He’s in a group chat with all his guy friends from work and they send each other memes all day long.
It gets so annoying hearing his pings go off constantly when I’m with him.
I have to tell him to silence his phone.
Sometimes I wonder if the guys do anything at all when they’re not at work because his phone constantly goes off.
I follow Zay out of the pantry and set the ingredients down. When I look up at him, he’s reading over his phone with knitted brows, as if someone told him some harsh news. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down before he puts his phone on silent and slips it into his pocket.
“We can start a movie while these bake,” I say.
He nods and heads for the living room and turns on the TV.
After putting the cookies in the oven, I head over to the living room and slide next to Zay on the couch. He puts his phone away the moment he sees me next to him, which I appreciate because sometimes I can’t get him off his phone.
“What movie do you want to watch?”
He presses play on the remote. “I found a Liam Neeson movie. Your favorite actor.”
Liam Neeson is one of my favorite actors. You can never go wrong with his movies. The movie Taken starts playing.
“We can watch all three. If you want?” Zay asks.
“Okay. I’m good with that.” I love rewatching movies. It’s just as good as rereading your favorite book.
I pull the ottoman over so we can put our feet up; just as I do that, Zay scoots over to my spot and spreads his legs. I eye him in question. Is he asking for what I think he’s asking for?
He rolls his eyes. “I’m not asking for that. Come sit between my legs.”
I chuckle and sit between his legs and rest my legs up onto the ottoman. I wiggle my way into him more, getting comfortable. He wraps his arms around me, holding me tight.
“Why are you so cuddly today?” I don’t mind it. In fact, I love it because physical touch is my love language. But his isn’t, and sometimes it’s hard for him to meet my needs.
“Why do you keep questioning me about cuddling you?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Because you hardly ever do it.”
“I’m here doing it now.”
I tilt my head to glance up at him and smile.
Unspeakable emotions stir around me. We’re about half ways done with the movie.
There is a spark that has ignited within me since cuddling up with Zayn.
Physical touch gives me a deep connection toward him that words can’t describe.
It’s a strong feeling pulsing through my body, making me want to feel more connected to him on a deeper level.
I shift slightly, aligning myself so I can better meet his eyes; his deep brown eyes capture my gaze.
There’s a brief pause, a moment of silence as I reach up, my fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.
He hesitates for a moment and my heart races.
Then he crashes his lips against mine, the warmth of our breath mingling together.
More emotions heighten as our tongues collide together.
I shift my body and slide off the couch until my knees hit the floor, separating our lips.
Zay swallows the lump in his throat as his dark eyes gaze down at me.
His expression is unreadable, and I can’t tell if he wants this or not.
But I continue to reach up for his waistband and tug at his pants.
His hands crash down on top of mine, stopping me from going any further. Our eyes meet and he shakes his head.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I’m just not in the mood,” he says, shifting his body more upright.
I lean back, sitting on my heels, surprised by him turning me down.
He has never turned me down. If anything, I’ve been the one that has turned him down.
He’s always the one who wants it. Sometimes way more than me.
A pang of rejection constricts my chest. Hurt blooms over me as I sit back down on the couch.
Unsure of what to say, I avoid looking at him.
Zay stays silent as he rewinds the parts we missed from the movie.
I give him a side-eye, confused and hurt even more by his rejection, with hardly any explanation, and now he continues the movie like nothing.
I lean back onto the couch, curl my legs up to my chest, and continue with the movie.
Images that have never crossed my mind are swirling in my mind now. Images and thoughts I’ve never had. He’s not only my husband but my best friend. He wouldn’t betray me like that…
Would he?
Cheating would really cross the lines for us. I always see the good in people and I see the good in him.
I glance over at him hoping he senses that I’m not okay. But he sits there in a rigid posture, staring at the TV as if he is lost in his thoughts too. He looks uncomfortable, not just physically but emotionally. His jaw is tense, and his lips are drawn thin.
“What’s wrong?” I ask confused by his demeanor. I’ve never seen him like this before. Something must be weighing heavy on him.
“Nothing,” he says, still staring at the TV.
“It’s not nothing if this is your reaction to me wanting sex with you.”
He turns his head, his eyes dead set on me. “One time I don’t want sex, and this is how you act.”
My lips part. “How I act? I dropped it and didn’t push. But the look on your face and the way your body is, it seems like something is going on.”
“Nothing is going on,” he snaps.
My eyes widen at his raised voice. He looks away from me, back at the TV. His body is even more rigid than before.
I sit back quietly, swallowing the knot in my throat. I force myself just to drop it and continue with the movie. But my insides feel sharp as I try not to pry.
I don’t feel any relief trying to let it go, but I do anyway, hoping in time he’ll talk to me about whatever is going on.