The following morning, the smell of burned toast and frying bacon wakes me. It turns my stomach. After forcing my eyes open, I blink into the darkness. Our bedroom door is closed, and the blackout blind is still down. I lean over to the bedside table and flick on the small silver lamp that sits on the heavy wood. Fuck, my head is banging. Katie is such a bad influence.
Pulling back the cover, I realize I’m naked. Did we have sex last night? If we did, I don’t remember. But looking over to Terry’s side, I see the bed is still made. He must have slept in the spare room. A dull weight settles in my chest, dragging everything else down with it. He’s sleeping in the other bedroom more often these days, and we pretend it’s about my rest.
Tentatively, I sit up and stretch my arms above my head, and a huge yawn escapes my lips. My muscles lengthen and contract as I move. Once I swing my legs out of bed, the soles of my feet tingle as they connect with the cold laminate floor. I flex my toes to relieve the sensation. Nerves dance in my belly, my memory of the night before lost.
I grab my robe from the chair next to our bed and stand to wriggle into it; it’s four sizes too big, made of a furry material with sheep printed all over it. Leaving our room, I wander toward the living room in search of my husband.
He's in the kitchen waving a spatula at a pan. Whatever breakfast is being cooked is being prodded viciously. Even though he works in a burger joint, his culinary skills are limited.
“What are you making?” I ask. His huge frame jumps.
“Shit, Amz. Are you trying to off me with a heart attack? At least announce your arrival, will you?” He tuts before returninghis attention to the sizzling ingredients in front of him. “It’s scrambled eggs and bacon,” he says as an afterthought. “Want any?”
My stomach rolls at the idea. “No, no. I’ll just get myself a glass of water. “
“Hangover that bad, huh?” he sniggers. “No wonder. You left a right mess in the plant pot my mother gave us. I had to take it to the back garden and hose it out.”
My eyes widen.
“You do remember emptying your guts, right?”
“Not really. It all goes blank after the second round of chasers. Do you know where my phone is?” He shrugs. “Did I bring my bag home?”
I get the same response, so I go in search of them. My bag has been dumped unceremoniously at the door with my phone inside, thank goodness. I pull the cell out. There’s a wide new crack across the screen and a message from Katie.
Hey, gorgeous, that’s me home. Great catching up today. You do you, honey. Much love, K xoxo
Chapter nine
Amy
Christmas day arrives. The event will be unrecognizable from previous years. Terry and I are spending it alone for the first time ever. Normally, we’re at Ben and Bex’s surrounded by screaming teenagers and mountains of wrapping paper.
Because it was their first year without her, Ben decided to take the whole family away to the sun for the holidays. I don’t blame him; it’s horrendous when every bloody thing reminds you of the person you lost. Every new memory is tainted by old ones. Even the smell of cinnamon crushes my spirit.
With no rush to get up, we laze about in bed until midday. Terry sits, propped up on pillows, reading on his iPad. “What are you reading?” I ask. His focus moves to me, then toward the screen. I prod his shoulder with my finger. “Hey! Are you not talking to me?” He flashes me a cheeky smile.
“Not telling,” he murmurs. Annoyed, I push myself up to sit and shuffle closer to him to peer over his shoulder. He bumps me out of the way. “Get over to your own side,” he says.
“The news?” I splutter. “You’re reading the news on Christmas Day?”
“I read the news every day,” he says as a way of explanation.
“Yeah, but it’s Christmas Day. Surely there are better things you could be doing.”
“Do you have a suggestion?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’m open to ideas for better ways to spend my time.”
“Possibly,” I purr, “but we’re both rather overdressed for what I have planned.” Even though he’s bare-chested, throwing the covers back exposes his navy fleece pajama bottoms. “You don’t need these,” I say, sliding greedy fingers into the waistband. He lifts his hips to allow the material to slide away. Warm skin, comforting and safe, and yet some part of me doesn’t feel whole.
As I climb on top to straddle him, his cock touching against my sex. I grind against him. He places his hands on my hips, encouraging me to move with more force. His strong fingers press into my skin. It won’t be the first time bruises are left due to our over excitement.
“Your turn,” he murmurs. “Get naked.” I smirk and shake my head. He increases his strength on my hips. “Get fucking naked. I’m going to bury myself inside you.”
“Make me,” I mouth silently. His eyes fire with arousal and he sits up hastily, wrapping his arms around me then taking my mouth with his. Our tongues dance, and I close my eyes, enjoying the intimacy. I move my legs around his waist. He grabs the hem of my top and lifts.
“Arms up,” he orders. I submit to his request, but not before leaning forward and nipping his ear. “Bitch,” he scolds with a sly smile. Released from their casing, my breasts hang free, andhis hands move automatically to them. He loves my breasts, especially when his nose is buried between them.
“Mine,” he whispers, his voice soft. “You’re always mine, Amz. My everything.” The words catch—sweet, but heavy. They land like a confession. Unease pricks my skin. There’s a sadness behind each one. An unspoken pain neither of us wants to face. Taking his face in my hands, I pull his gaze to mine and kiss him softly. I don’t want to face it either.
