Chapter 2
Madison
#smockdress #handmade #tradwife #naturalbeauty #lifegoals
I sit on the edge of our Alaskan King bed, the sheets still mussed from last night, and listen to the shower running in our en suite bathroom.
I think about the times I’ve followed Michael in there, slipping off my dress and panties as I go, the grin on his face as he realizes what’s coming.
I wonder what would happen if I tried that now.
Would he lift me up, let me curl my legs around his torso, hold me against the limestone tiles, and make love to me?
Or would he disentangle himself, remind me about his busy day, and leave me smarting with embarrassment?
But the shower noise stops, ending my dreamy conundrum, and a minute later, Michael walks into the bedroom.
His thick chestnut hair is wet, pushed off his face, and he’s wearing a white towel knotted around his hips.
He gives me one of his languid half-smiles.
Easy as breathing to him, but even now, after over a decade of marriage, it makes my insides twist. ‘So what was it this morning?’ he asks. ‘Banana bread? French toast?’
‘Granola.’
He nods. ‘Happy with it?’ Michael is a barrel of a man.
Muscular, strong, but thickset rather than ripped.
More heavyweight boxer than track sprinter.
He drops his towel on the floor and wanders over to his underwear drawer butt naked.
Michael has never been prudish about his own physique, although it’s a different story when it comes to women’s bodies, and the biology that goes with them.
Thank goodness.
‘I think it’ll turn out well,’ I say. ‘The light was perfect.’
‘Sounds great.’ Then he twists towards me, his eyes narrowing. ‘I take it there’s something more filling for me?’
‘Of course,’ I say quickly. ‘Lori’s making you steak and eggs.’
He nods. ‘Good. Cattle breeding starts today, so I need a proper breakfast. All being well, I’ll have fertilized one hundred ladies by dusk.
’ He lets out a crack of laughter, then reaches for me.
I go willingly into his arms, arch my body into his, give him my most seductive smile.
His bulge expands against my dress, and I feel a frisson of excitement – laced with power.
I might be in my thirties and a mother four times over now, but I can still arouse him. I’m not like Rose, and I never will be.
But then my sense of power vanishes, because Michael pulls back, gives my ass a light slap, and returns his attention to his underwear drawer.
‘Will Lori make me a packed lunch too? And can you make sure, between you, that dinner is ready at six? I’ll be starving by then, and you know how I hate to wait for a meal. ’
‘Of course. I’ll let Lori know.’
‘And what about you?’ he says, pulling on a pair of jeans. ‘You got much on today?’
He says it so dismissively that I have the crazy urge to goad him.
To remind him that I’m the one who has built a global brand.
But the compulsion evaporates as quickly as it arrived.
‘Oh, just the usual. Helping Lori in the kitchen. Spending time with the children. And, um.’ I swallow.
I find that I don’t want to tell him about the new tutor, even though it was him who pointed out that we needed a replacement, that our children deserved someone more qualified than me to teach them.
But he’s going to find out soon enough. And at least I took precautions this time.
‘What’s up, Madison. Cat got your tongue?’
‘The new tutor is arriving this morning,’ I say. ‘Ready to start lessons next week.’
He stops buttoning his shirt. ‘I didn’t know you’d hired someone.’ His voice cools. ‘You didn’t think to speak to me about something as important as that?’
My cheeks sting with the error. Why did I let my pain at his straying blind me to something so obvious?
‘You’re right, I should have done.’ I wring my hands in frustration at my own stupidity, hoping it looks like humility.
‘But you’ve been so busy working on the ranch; I wanted to take some of the burden of running the home off your shoulders. ’
‘Hmmm.’ He resumes doing up his shirt and it gives me the impetus to keep going.
‘And I used an agency that specializes in finding tutors who hold traditional family values. People like us.’ This is a lie, but I can’t tell Michael the truth.
That I chose an agency in Boston exactly because the area is liberal, progressive.
Full of people who are different to us. Young women that Michael won’t want to sleep with.
Because I knew a male tutor was out of the question.
‘You interviewed her?’
‘Yes, absolutely. She’ll fit in, I promise.’
‘If she doesn’t smell right to me, she’s gone, you understand? I don’t care how much it will cost me.’
‘Of course, honey.’ This is a familiar dance for us.
I never mention the huge paychecks I get through my brand deals and advertising revenue, and in return, Michael turns a blind eye to the hours I spend developing my social media presence.
While we can pretend it’s just a wholesome hobby – even though he knows exactly what I earn because those dollars go straight into his bank account – our marriage can stay strong.
But sometimes that pretense is harder to maintain.
Needing to give staff a sweetener in return for their discretion is one of the ways it spills over into our family life, but there are trickier obstacles to navigate.
Like security. The fence around the homestead is designed to keep animals out, not people, and whenever I get a particularly creepy message, I ask about hiring a security detail.
But Michael always says that defending our family is his job, and that me suggesting otherwise questions his masculinity.
Of course I never want to push things after that – Michael’s masculinity is more important to him than oxygen – but I do wish I could ask him about all the time he spends on his ranch, away from the homestead, and who would defend us then.
I walk over to him, run my open palm across his broad chest. ‘A word from you, and she’s gone; you’ve always been a better judge of character than me.
’ I look up into his face and give him my most alluring smile, while internally praying that he doesn’t decide to get rid of our new tutor.
I need this one to work out. I can’t let him replace her with yet another blonde-haired, wide-eyed good girl.