Chapter 20
I just want my wife back
“I’ve missed your cooking.” Rhys smiles, spearing his last piece of pasta and shovelling it into his mouth. He lets his fork clang onto his plate and stands up from the table. “Fancy watching a film tonight?”
“Sounds good.” I actually still have all of my marking and a ton of paperwork left to do, but I don’t want to annoy Rhys by choosing that over him. He’s making an effort to spend time with me, after all.
“I’ll go and choose something. Don’t worry, I won’t start it until you’ve finished loading the dishwasher. I wouldn’t want you to miss the beginning.”
As he leaves the dining room to set up the TV, I take our dishes into the kitchen.
I load the dishwasher and put the leftovers in a tub for Rhys’s lunch tomorrow.
Opening the fridge to put the tub away, I remember the fresh punnet of strawberries I picked up from the local farm shop on the way home.
A realisation hits: if Rhys can make an effort, so can I.
I grab the strawberries and quickly melt a bar of chocolate in the microwave.
Adding a little cream to stop the chocolate from solidifying too soon, I pour it into a small bowl, rinse the strawberries and set them on a tray.
I add a beer for Rhys and a glass of wine for me, then carry it carefully into the living room.
“Surprise!” I say, popping the tray onto the coffee table and handing Rhys his bottle of beer.
“Cheers, Mat,” he says and takes a swig, his eyes on the tray in front of him. “You can’t watch a film without some nibbles.”
I take a seat next to him, my own drink in hand, and settle down for the movie. Rhys reaches for his phone and starts to scroll. Assuming he’s checking in on a client as he often does, I reach for a strawberry and dunk it into the velvety chocolate sauce.
“Are you sure you want that?” Rhys asks, nodding towards the chocolate dripping from the berry onto my fingers.
I look between him and my hand for a moment before it clicks what he means. “Oh, shit, I forgot to check my calories first!”
Rhys gives me a sympathetic look and turns his phone so I can see the screen. “Sorry, Muffin. You’ve reached your limit for today. It’s a good job I’m around to remind you of these things, isn’t it?” He gives me a playful wink.
“Yeah, thank you. I’ll just have the strawberries without dipping them.”
Rhys sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Not enough calories left for those either. I know it’s just fruit, Mat, but calories are calories. There’s no getting around it. I’d stay off the wine too if I were you.”
Disappointed with myself for not planning my meals in advance to allow me to have a little treat, I admit he’s right. I lean to put the strawberry, still dripping chocolate on my hand, back onto the plate, but Rhys grabs my wrist in midair.
“Let’s not waste that.”
His voice is a low rumble as he looks me in the eyes and pulls my hand towards his mouth.
He takes a bite out of the strawberry and licks the stray chocolate from his lips.
Hooded eyes still on me, he takes the remaining piece in his mouth and chews.
I move to take my hand back, but Rhys’s grip is firm, almost painful.
“You’re a mess,” he says in a husky voice.
He takes my index finger into his mouth and sucks, licking until all of the chocolate is gone, then moves onto the next finger.
My breathing quickens, and I feel myself flush, my skin on fire.
As he makes his way through all the fingers on my right hand, ending with my thumb, I feel myself getting uncomfortably aroused.
It’s not that I’m finding his actions particularly erotic, as much as it’s been a very long time since I’ve had sex.
But despite my body’s reaction, I’m not mentally ready to sleep with Rhys again.
I’ve agreed to try again, but that doesn’t mean I trust him entirely.
“Rhys…” I start to protest, but it comes out as a moan which only spurs him on.
“Do you need me to clean you up anywhere else?” Rhys releases my hand and dips two fingers into the chocolate sauce.
“How about here?” He smears it on my neck, letting it trickle down to my collarbone.
Before it reaches my shirt, he licks the drip from the bottom all the way to the space just below my ear.
I try again. “Rhys…” but he’s too focused on kissing every inch of my neck to hear me. And it was a feeble attempt to stop him.
Goosebumps erupt over my skin when I feel his fingers trail a line from my collarbone down between my breasts. He has easy access, with the first couple of buttons of my shirt being undone, but as he starts to unbutton more, and his tongue follows its new, chocolatey path, I come to my senses.
“No,” I breathe.
“Oh, come on, Muffin, you’re loving this,” he says against the skin of my chest.
He’s right. I’m so aroused by now, the slightest touch between my legs would send me over the edge. But this isn’t what I want.
“No,” I say more firmly, lifting his head away from me.
Realising I’m serious, he pushes away from me and storms to the other side of the room, pacing angrily.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, avoiding his eyes. In a panic, I reach for a wad of napkins and roughly clean the trail of chocolate until my skin is sore.
“You’re my fucking wife, Matilda! I should be able to have sex with my own fucking wife.” He kicks the footstool on his way past out of frustration. I jump in my seat but try to stay calm. I’ve never seen him lose his temper like this before.
“I’m just not ready.” I try to stay as small and quiet as possible so he doesn’t get more angry.
“I’m not taking your virginity, Mat. It’s just sex, we’ve done it before.”
“I know, but after everything that’s happened, I don’t think I’m ready to jump back into bed with you yet. Maybe we could spend some time getting to know each other again before rushing into anything?”
Rhys gives me an ice-cold stare and shakes his head in disbelief.
“I can’t believe you’re coming back to this again.
” He looks around as if trying to find someone to back him up.
“I’ve apologised for my part in what happened to us, but can’t you just take a little bit of responsibility for our marriage falling apart?
Can’t you, for once, admit that you were in the wrong too? ”
How ironic. I do nothing but blame myself for anything and everything, but Rhys clearly doesn’t see that.
“I know I’m the one who slept with someone else…”
“Multiple people,” I say. I can’t help myself.
“Multiple people,” he grinds out. “But I’m not naturally that kind of guy. Have you considered that there might have been a reason I acted so out of character and went around fucking other women?”
Sinking lower into the cushions of the couch, I try to catch my breath, but a sharp pain stabs my ribs with each inhale. Is this what Ivy was warning me about?
“I know it’s not been easy for you,” he continues in a calmer tone.
“You’ve been struggling with your weight, let yourself go a bit since getting married, so I get that you’re self-conscious.
But don’t I get any credit for putting up with it?
For using my time to help you track your food, encouraging you, being honest with you when most wouldn’t?
For loving you despite the way you are?”
He moves to sit back on the couch so our knees are touching. I try not to look at him; I’m afraid I’ll start crying if I do. I keep my trembling hands between my knees so he doesn’t notice how worked up I am. I don’t want to add fuel to the fire. Luckily, Rhys carries on, oblivious.
“I love you, Matilda. Even when you’ve made it really hard to love you, I’ve done it anyway.
I’ve stuck by you. Do you know what it’s like to see my mates’ girlfriends looking after themselves, making an effort, then coming home to you with no make-up on, gorging on crisps?
I deserve better than that, but I didn’t want to abandon you and risk you not finding someone else.
So I stayed, but fucked around on the side to get it out of my system.
It made coming home to you easier, for the sake of our relationship. ”
The pain in my ribs increases with every breath until breathing itself becomes difficult.
My lungs burn from lack of oxygen, and my head starts to spin.
Rhys notices me swaying and grabs me by the shoulders, pulling me into a hug.
Instinctively, I inhale deeply, seeking that familiar scent that never fails to soothe me.
Then I remember that scent isn’t around anymore, and my heartbreak only worsens.
I try to match Rhys’s deep breathing, and, after several gruelling minutes, the pain dissipates and I breathe more easily.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, Mat,” he whispers, rubbing small circles on my back.
“And I’m not saying we have to have sex right now.
But I need you to see this from my perspective.
Things have been tough for a while, and then you went away for weeks.
I just want my wife back. I want the girl I proposed to. Is she in there?”
“I think so,” I mumble. “I’m trying.” I quietly cry onto Rhys’s shoulder, prompting him to hold me tighter.
“Shh, I know, Muffin, I know,” he coos. “I just don’t want to get back to that place where I feel like I don’t have any other choice, you know? I want this to work, for both our sakes.”
Angry with myself for spoiling things again, I pull away from Rhys, straighten my hair and wipe under my eyes. He’s right, I played a huge part in the crumbling of our relationship, and I’m determined to do better. I won’t push Rhys into another woman’s bed again.
“I’m going for a shower.” Rhys nods his approval. “Tomorrow, I’ll take my calories down to eight hundred a day. I’ll prove I’m worth keeping.”
“That’s my girl!” He grins broadly at me, and I feel a spark of pride at his praise. “How about I sign you up to my gym, too? I can put a training plan together for you.”
“Yeah, okay,” I agree reluctantly.
The last thing I want to do is spend time at that hell hole surrounded by sickeningly thin and beautiful women, God knows how many of whom Rhys has slept with.
But it’s time I made a real effort. Who knows, if I finally lose the weight, I might actually feel good about myself and be able to be happy?