“Why is this so easy? I’m scared that you’re taking every suggestion I make. That’s not like you. You’re a fighter. You like being an evil overlord. What’s going on?”
“I want you tolikeme. That’s the truth. And you’re right, a positive work/life balance is good optics. HR has been badgering me about it for months. I want to show that you’ve been a good influence.”
He puffs up proudly. Still having asshole motivations for making changes, but I’ll take it.
“As far as dinner, yes to that too. Now, before I go read boring legal briefs, can I ask you a question?”
Now I’m nervous.
“With Junior set to make an appearance in nine months, our lives are going to change drastically. I would very much like to have an intimate relationship. So what does consent look like for you? Do I ask you every time? Can you just say no if you’re not in the mood? How much sex can I look forward to?”
“Consent means you asking if I’m in the mood. I reserve the right to say no for whatever reason.” I lean in and kiss his soft cheek. “But every night sounds good to me, until the baby starts kicking my ass.”
“Thank you.” He looks visibly relieved.
“Now, go to work, you slacker.” I slap his ass.
He grabs me and kisses me full on the mouth. “Marital sex starts tonight. Just so you know.” He licks my lips, and boy, is he hard.
“Oh, fun.” I cup him through his trousers, and he groans.
“I hate you,” he teases.
“Work calls...” I pull away, laughing.
It feels good. For the first time since meeting Griffin, I’m happy.
Griffin works for several hours, and I venture upstairs to explore the upper level of the loft. The industrial staircase is metal and makes a hollow banging sound when you walk on it.
Griffin's home is basically a vast open space with floor-to-ceiling windows covered in dark tapestries. The living room and dining room are sectioned off by shelving units full of books andpriceless art. The kitchen is in the back, with a brushed steel breakfast bar.
Behind it is a large walk-in pantry that hides a bedroom with a bathroom—the maid’s quarters. No one stays there. I look at it, thinking perhaps we can put one of the boys in there, but the space feels sad. It has a view of an alleyway.
Our primary bedroom is on the opposite side of the loft. It’s huge, divided by bookcases, with a fireplace and a conversation set. The bathroom has a shower big enough for a party.
Across from our room are two offices with sliding metal doors. Griffin told me they were soundproofed. Next to his office ismyroom, which he had redecorated with green velvet furniture, a lounger, and a soft, shaggy rug. It has a view of Manhattan and lots of natural light.
“Green?” I asked him when he first showed me.
“I consulted a designer. She told me green is relaxing for anxiety, which I assumed you would have,” Griffin explained.
“I kind of love it,” I told him. And I do.
I continue my mission to the second floor, where there are guest rooms and a theater. The boys will love the theater—it has tiered seating and a popcorn machine. I look into the guest rooms. Each has a king-sized bed and an ensuite bathroom behind Japanese shoji screens.
I take note of colors I’d like to add—steel grey, navy blue, hunter green. Manly but warm.
Griffin texts me while I’m on the tour.
Order from here…He sends a link to an expensive home design store.It’s my favorite. There’s no budget. Have fun. - Griffin
I text back.Okay. Going to the roof for a dip… of the skinny variety. Perhaps you’ll be done with work soon.
Ah, very nice. You torture me when I’m working so hard.
I’m just here trying to be a wife.
I’m actually craving his company, something I didn’t think I’d ever do.
