Chapter 32
Five Months Earlier …
“Happy anniversary.”Amelia wakes me with breakfast in bed. The sun’s not up. Astrid’s still asleep. And my five o’clock alarm hasn’t gone off yet.
Who am I kidding? It’s the middle of the night.
Our bedroom smells like bacon and eggs, and my beautiful wife of ten years is wearing the sexiest pink lingerie I have ever seen. I rub my eyes and sit up in our bed while she places the wood tray of food over my lap, covered in white sheets and a soft blue linen blanket. She gathers her slightly tangled blonde hair and pulls it over one shoulder while giving me a giddy, wide-eyed look.
I love that look—usually.
I stare at the food. The eggs over-easy. The bacon from a turkey. The toast on the dark side. A small bowl of blueberries. And coffee black.
My favorites—usually.
“Not hungry?” She pouts at the prospect of me not feeling hungry in the middle of the night. I glance at my phone on the nightstand, reaching over to tap the screen—three a.m.
I haven’t had much of an appetite in weeks. My five a.m. alarm calls have been snoozed every nine minutes until nearly seven in the morning. That’s when I fly out of bed, grab coffee, and break all the speed limits on my way to work.
“If you want me to eat, move the tray and take that pink thing off.” I’m not a hundred percent sure I can get it up or give her that kind of orgasm. But I feel like those odds are better than bacon and eggs.
Amelia smirks, taking a bite of the bacon before bringing it to my lips. The smell makes my stomach roil, but I take a tiny bite and manage to keep it down with a stiff smile.
“As much as it would be my pleasure to feed you this morning, I want to be the giver. We’ll renegotiate later when we go to bed.” She sets the tray aside.
Trapping her lower lip between her teeth, she works my underwear down my legs and situates herself between them, hands on my thighs as her tongue makes its first stroke. I close my eyes and focus on what feels good since that hasn’t been much lately.
The good news? My dick hasn’t gotten the memo that the rest of my body has gone on strike.
Twenty minutes, a partial blowjob, and a helluva bull ride later, she’s naked, satiated, draped across my chest, and drifting off to sleep.
However, I can’t sleep. It’s taking everything I have not to push her off me because I am not well. Eventually, my alarm saves me, and she automatically rolls to the side, freeing me to get out of bed.
If it were any other day, I’d stay home. But Amelia loves celebrations, and I don’t want to disappoint her. So, I pop a few over-the-counter pain pills and go to work.
By noon, I’m past my breaking point and making a poor decision to drive myself to the hospital.
“Can I call someone for you?” the nurse asks while I restlessly wait for the doctor.
“No.” There’s no need to worry my wife on our anniversary if I’m just passing a kidney stone or something benignly delightful like that.
Hours later, after poking, prodding, scanning, and administering stronger pain medication, I head home with less discomfort but no answers.
Amelia makes her way down the stairs in a stunning emerald gown, blonde hair in loose curls, and nude lips perfectly glossed. “Don’t tell me where you made dinner reservations; I want to be surprised. Just tell me if we’re staying in town tonight or jetting off to another destination so I can let Hillary know when she gets here to stay with Astrid. And …” When she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she holds out a black box with a white satin ribbon. “I know we don’t usually exchange gifts until after dinner, but I couldn’t wait to give you yours.”
Dinner.
Gift.
I smile, praying to God that she doesn’t see through my silent agony for having fucked everything up. In the box is a new gold watch.
“Since you lost the one your mom gave you.”
My gaze lifts from the watch to her glimmering, soft blue eyes. She’s so beautiful.
“Thank you.”
She gives me a peck on the lips and wipes her gloss from my mouth with the pad of her thumb. “So, will we be back here tonight? I’ll call Hillary while you’re in the shower.”
“We’re staying in town. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course. I know whatever you have planned will be spectacular.” Her heels click along the white marble floor toward the kitchen while I drag myself up the curved staircase for a shower.
After closing the bedroom door, I call my assistant. “Megan, I need a huge favor. It’s my anniversary, and I have nothing planned and no gift for my wife.”
“Oh, uh …”
Of course, she’s caught off guard because I’ve used her for a million things. Still, I’ve never been the guy who asks his assistant to remember birthdays or anniversaries, buy gifts, or make reservations at the last possible minute.
“I’m sorry, but?—”
“Nope,” she chirps. “I’ve got it all handled. Are you staying in Philly?”
“Yes.” I remove my already loose tie.
“Great. Can you give me ten minutes?”
I love her. She’s getting a raise first thing in the morning. “Yes. I need to shower and dress.”
“Keep your phone close; I’ll send you all the details.”
“Thank you, Megan. You are truly the best.”
“Of course, Mr. Milloy.”
I pull it off.Well, Megan pulls it off. A chef’s table dinner at a new French restaurant and tickets to George Frideric Handel’s Julius Caesar.
“Oh my god, Price! I can’t believe you’re taking me to an opera,” she covers her mouth, “in Paris.”
That makes two of us. I’m not a fan of the opera or Paris. And I now have mixed feelings about Megan. I thought she liked me better than this. Now, I’m forced to rethink her raise.
“I love you so much.” Amelia stands to lean over the table and kiss me.
I smile when she sits back in her chair and adjusts her dress. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”
She sips her champagne, eyes narrowing a bit before she sets it back on the table. “I’ve noticed you haven’t been yourself lately. I know you say it’s stress at work, but you’ve been sluggish, and your skin is pasty.”
“I’m sure it’s the lighting.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I’ve noticed it at home too. When’s the last time you had a physical?”
I watch the chef carefully place a sprig of rosemary beside two lamb chops. “I don’t know.” I lie.
When I know more, I’ll tell her about my trip to the ER earlier today. But until I know something concrete, there’s no need to worry her.
“Well, I think you should schedule something. It might just be a virus. That would explain your fatigue.”
I nod several times while shifting my attention back to her. “I’m sure that’s it. But I’ll have it checked out if I don’t feel better soon.”