Two pumps and I’m there, groaning out my release and nearly collapsing against the black marble wall. My cum streaks along the marble veins, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
I finish up with my shower, dress myself, and head out into the kitchen to ready myself a cup of coffee.
I go about my routine, setting the coffee pot and grabbing myself some eggs and vegetables to make an omelet. Movingabout with precision, I get lost in my task. It’s the same every morning.
When I have flipped my omelet onto my plate and the coffee pot goes off, Savannah’s voice breaks my motion.
“Hey,” she says apathetically.
Not good morning or anything remotely welcoming. Just hey. Like she’s talking to an employee and not her husband.
“Good morning,” I say, trying not to let her sour my mood. If I did, I’d be mad all the time.
She leans her long arms across the counter. Her makeup is perfect, hair pulled back in a loose golden ponytail.
“You’re getting those packages, right? At the post office? You said you’d pick them up yesterday, and—”
I sigh. Of course she needs something. My brother and Mack have often said I should just say no, that I shouldn’t give into her like I do. But a part of me, a small part, still wants to do what she asks because I’m not an asshole, and she’s my wife. Even if she doesn’t treat me like her husband.
“Yeah, of course,” I say with a smile, though it’s not genuine. “I have some errands to do before I clock in today, so I’ll swing by.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Okay, thanks.”
“You’ll let me know when you land, right?” I ask.
She looks at me in question. “It’ll be like three a.m. our time. You’ll be asleep.”
I sigh. “Still. You’re flying to another country. It would be nice to know you’re okay.”
She rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Fine. I’ll text you.”
I nod as she grabs her suitcases, rolling them out the door to go catch her ride, since she refuses to let me drop her off at the airport.
I grab my travel mug and head for the door, taking a deep breath as the sun peeks out from the clouds, knowing what I’m about to do.
Here goes nothing.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cameron
One good thing about staying with my mother is she isn’t an early bird. And if I’m really lucky, she’ll sleep until late afternoon. Not that I plan on hanging around the house all day, as spending time with her is the last thing I want to do, but while I’m here, I am curious about some things. Mostly the in-law apartment I spent most of my time in once I hit high school.
My mother was glad to have me “out of her face” and I enjoyed the privacy.
I’d asked her about staying there last night, but she said it was unsafe due to the floor caving in. Then she went on a rant about how she doesn’t have money to fix it. I wanted to tell her that if she did something with her life, that wouldn’t be a problem,but I was hoping for a bed to sleep in, so I kept my mouth shut. She was hoping I’d offer, and I’m surprised she didn’t outright demand I pay for the renovations. Of course I can afford it, but she doesn’t deserve that from me. I don’t care if she spent sixteen hours pushing me out of her body. I wasn’t the one who made that happen.
I get dressed, making sure I have all of my things because I do not plan on staying here again tonight. Honestly, I’m not sure why I chose to stay all weekend at all. I should have booked a flight out first thing this morning, but at the time, Sunday night seemed like a good time to leave. I could change my flight, I guess. I’ll look into that later.
I put my suitcase in my car before heading back inside and going to the door that leads to the stairs that brings you to the in-law apartment that’s over the garage. My mother doesn’t own a car and hasn’t ever, as far as I know, meaning the garage is full of junk that’s probably ruined or damaged.
The stairs creak as I walk up them, and I wonder if they’re going to cave as I go. Wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to me, so I keep going, flipping on the light when I reach the top of the steps. Stupidest thing about this apartment is that the light switch for this stairwell, that has no windows, is at the top of the stairs…
They flicker before staying on. Dust particles float all over, and I push open the door to get into the apartment. It’s been broken since I kicked it in when I was sixteen and no one ever bothered to fix it.
The bright morning sun shines in through the curtainless windows, illuminating the room, but it’s eerily silent.
It’s not big, and from here I can see everything except the bathroom, that’s in the back and off to the side, behind another door. Everything else is an open plan, even the section for the bedroom.
