By the time I'd finished scrubbing the bathtub, James and the girls had finally come home; their animated chatter and laughter pulling a smile from my face.
"Hey, babe." James had on his sexy muscle shirt that exposed his beautifully defined arms. A slight tingle of awareness travelled through me, and when he bent down to kiss me, I allowed my lips to linger on his. He pulled back with a delighted look on his face. "Did you relax?"
"Hmm. Thank you for the pancakes."
"Did you chill out?" He asked again as he pulled off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. He lifted his head, and his nostrils flared. "Did you clean?"
I nodded my head. "A little bit."
His face fell, and a distressed look crossed his features. "Oh. No, babe, I didn't want you to do that."
I lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. "I didn't want to leave the dirty dishes, and some of the batter had fallen on the floor, so I thought I might as well mop it."
His mouth dropped open, and he stared at me with an ashen face. "You…you did the dishes and mopped? But I wanted you to relax."
"It's just easier to do it when the kids are out of the house. That way they're not constantly under my feet or slipping on the floors."
He stared down at the ground, looking like a lost puppy. I opened my mouth to ask if he was okay, but then Sienna yelled at me to help wipe her bum, which ended our conversation.
As I walked out of the room, I glanced back to see James with his hands on the counter, his shoulders slumped, and his head bowed.
What was up with him?
Chapter 9
James
Icouldn't seem to get anything right. While I was out at the park, swinging Sienna and chasing Kehlani around, I was smugly envisioning my wife having a nice lie-in or a long soak in the bath. I didn't expect her toactuallybe scrubbing the bathtub. Or mopping the floors and cleaning our breakfast dishes.
The shitty thing was, I would've left those dishes for Zara without a thought. I wouldn't have even noticed that the floors were dirty and needed mopping. My mind was focused on getting out of her way so she could have some alone time and not feel so overwhelmed.
Last night, while scrolling through social media, I came across a husband-and-wife podcast discussing their love language. The husband responded to physical affection while the wife preferred acts of love—cooking, doing the dishes, and cleaning.
It mirrored our marriage. I craved my wife and showed her that I cared through caresses, kisses and lovemaking. If she wasannoyed or angry at me, my go-to move was to feel her up and kiss her until she gave in.
Except that, while I was getting what I needed from my wife, her emotional needs were not being met by me. I'd slacked off and taken her for granted. As much as it had hurt to overhear her discussing her grievances about me, I was also bloody grateful. Knowing me, I would be the idiot served with divorce papers, claiming it came out of the blue.
"Thanks for taking the girls out." Zara slid into bed beside me, the scent of her expensive creams tickling my nostrils and causing me to salivate. I loved the absolute bones of my wife, but especially how she was now—sleep shorts, tiny crop top and skin smelling like an exotic flower.
"There's no need to thank me. You do it all the time."
She shrugged, then grabbed her reading tablet and settled back. "Mum's coming next month and she's offered to have the girls for the weekend once she's settled."
My hand rubbed over her knee, and for a brief second, I felt her stiffen before she relaxed. I was desperate to make love to Zara, but I wanted to prove my worth to her first. Sex came easily for us, and I didn't want to use it as a band-aid over our issues.
"Hey, maybe we can have a date night? I know I fucked up our other one, and I'm so sorry." I squeezed her leg. "Can we have a re-do?"
She paused for a brief second before she gave me a small smile. It didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah, sure. If you want." Her attention returned to her book, and I bit back a frustrated sigh.
Okay, it wasn't the most receptive reaction. She usually jumped at the chance for alone time with me. In fact, she usually planned it first. Well, I wasn't going to let that deter me.
"I'll book it," I promised.
"Sure." She placed her book aside before reaching over and flicking off her lamp.
Chapter 10
Zara
