8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
-Kace-
I felt very confused as my wife stood in front of me, a little wet, wrapped in a towel, and looking very upset. Yet I had to say that the sight of her standing there, dripping a little, made me imagine what she looked like without a towel. The thought surprised me. Did my wife turn me on a little? That was interesting , I thought.
“Can you remind me how people we didn’t invite are now coming to our house?” I asked.
“Because they invited us to theirs,” she replied.
“Did we accept?” I inquired, finding our little talk amusing, but my wife didn’t seem to find it funny.
“No!” she exclaimed.
“We didn’t?” I asked.
“I told them you didn’t want to go.”
“Oh? Are you a mind reader?” I questioned, feeling a bit annoyed that she had decided for me.
“No, of course not,” she replied.
“So, how could you know what I wanted?”
“You asked if we could have dates here,” she reminded me.
“Yes?” I coaxed.
“Oh, I’m sorry. So from now on, should I just presume that it’s only me you don’t want to be seen with out in public?”
“What?” I asked, confused.
But Annabella was glaring at me, her arms crossed over her chest, and she looked at me like she was ready to cry. Yet her reaction made something clear to me, and it made me see deeper into the person I had married.
“Listen, I understand you probably thought you couldn’t get anything better considering everything and that I was the consolation prize, and—”
“Wow, slow down, Annabella!” I quickly interjected, making her look at me, surprised.
“What?” she inquired.
“Where is all of this coming from? Why do you think this way?”
“Well…” she trialed off, looking around. “It’s not like I’m my sister.”
“And your sister is…?”
“Perfect,” she said.
“Perfect? How?” I inquired.
“She is… your usual type, right?”
“I can see how that might seem that way, but I don’t know her.”
“Well, appearance matters to you, right?” she asked.
“It matters to everyone. Anyone saying differently is a liar,” I stated.
“Again, how can you view people like that?” she inquired.
“How can you not see the truth?” I shot back.
“But it is your truth. Not mine!”
“There is always an attraction, or not.”
“How about people who find personality an attraction and not the skin?” she challenged.
I was about to answer when she held up her hand.
“If you say, ‘they are not being honest with themselves’, I am leaving!” she snarled, surprising me once again.
This was what I found so strange. My wife didn’t think of herself as someone who could be desired, and yet she was good at telling someone when they were being an ass without saying the word.
“I won’t say it then,” I assured her.
“Good,” she replied.
“But let’s go back to what you said,” I told her.
“What?”
“You aren’t a consolation prize. I didn’t want your sister, and I could have chosen someone else, but I chose you,” I explained.
“Why?” she inquired.
“Because I knew your father. I know what family you come from.”
“So it’s about business?”
“Not really,” I replied.
“Can I get an explanation, then?” she requested.
I sighed, not wanting to give away too much about myself and my plan, but I knew I had to give her a little.
“You aren’t my usual type, as you said,” I explained.
“See?” she countered.
“But!” I quickly added. “I didn’t want that.”
“Why not?”
“Because such people often carry no depth.”
“I don’t follow,” she admitted.
“Few stayed with me after the accident,” I told her. “I had a very serious girlfriend. How often do you think she visited me?”
“Didn’t she stay in the hospital?” she asked.
“No,” I replied.
“Well, then… every day?” she guessed.
“None.”
“None?” she asked, shocked.
“She came when she heard I was on the road of recovery… Or sort of recovering considering,” I said and gestured to myself.
“And then?”
“And then we broke up. Or I broke up with her because I saw the truth, but I had been blind for a long time,” I admitted.
The best lie was often the one closest to the truth, and I could see I was making my wife view me a little differently.
“I saw I had terrible taste,” I continued.
“I might just agree,” she mumbled.
“Louder,” I scolded, but she glared at me instead. “Anyway, I decided to try something new.”
“So, I'm your test subject?”
“You could almost say that, but not really. I do think you are beautiful,” I assured her.
“What?” She took a small step back.
“What? Is that bad?” I inquired.
“No, but I don’t believe you. Not when you have dated supermodels,” she confessed.
I shrugged a bit. “Taste changes.”
“Not that much.”
“Could you stop?” I asked.
“With?” she inquired.
“Letting your insecurities shine through so much. There is nothing more unattractive than insecure people.”
That didn’t sit well with my wife, though I was just trying to help. She turned red in the face from anger and walked closer.
“And there is nothing more disgusting than rude people,” she retorted, making me feel shocked, my eyebrows raising high. She planted her hands on my desk and leaned closer, but soon my eyes got their own will.
They went toward her cleavage slowly, which was no longer covered because she was leaning forward. Her arms were pressing her breasts together, and they were not on the smaller side.
Annabella saw where my eyes went, and I quickly averted my gaze. But it was too late. She groaned, annoyed, and looked at me like I was the most awful person on the planet.