Although to be very honest, this isn’t a good hiding place. I should’ve probably chosen the bedroom and locked the door. Barred the windows. Not that it would keep him out, but I’m too angry at him right now to do it anyway.
Yes, I’m angry.
I’m so angry that I could…
I spin around when I feel him at the threshold. His tall, big presence overwhelms everything else, and as soon as I see him, the space that was bright turns darker.
So much so that the only thing that shines bright is him in his light-colored t-shirt and dark jeans. There’s a strip of grease onhis left bicep and also a smaller spot on his left wrist that makes my stomach clench, my chest heave with longing.
He’s usually super careful about washing up at work before he comes home. Something about not wanting to dirty things up. But sometimes he misses spots and I don’t know what it is about them, but I find them so masculine, so very, very sexy.
And I want them on me, those dirty, greasy,fascinatinghands.
I clench my fists because it only makes me angrier.
When I look back at his face, I find that his eyes are taking me in.
They are glowing as he takes in my braid, my daisy-printed white dress.
I chose this dress today because it makes me feel like a fairy — courtesy of the guy I’m mad at — and since I was bringing my Halo home, I wanted to feel like one.
When he’s done, his gaze lingering on my stomach that’s more pouchy than flat for a second too long, and his eyes come back to mine, I blurt out, “Everybody left.”
“I see that.”
Of course he does and of course he’d use a voice, all deep and smooth, that goes down my spine like warm honey.
I clutch my dress and blurt out again, “Halo’s sleeping.”
It’s true.
Sheissleeping. I just fed her, changed her and now she’s out. Which won’t last long because she’ll need another feeding soon but for now, my baby’s sleeping and hopefully dreaming of magical things.
Meanwhile I have no idea what I’m doing except that I’m very, very mad at him and if he doesn’t do anything about it soon, I’ll punch him.
I will.
“I know,” he says as if he heard what I was thinking.
“What?”
“That she’s sleeping.”
“How do you know?” I ask uselessly, belligerently.
And a very subtle sparkle of amusement enters his eyes. “Because I know her schedule. Because I’ve known it for the last four weeks.”
I know he knows it.
He knows everything, doesn’t he?
Then how come he doesn’t know that I’m so mad at him right now? That I’ve been slowly getting madder and madder over the past few days?
And maybe I shouldn’t be but I can’t help it.
I inhale sharply and wipe my trembling, sweaty hands over my thighs. “Well then, I’ll go catch some sleep too. Because all the books always say that I should sleep when Halo sleeps.” I nod to emphasize it. “So I’ll leave the kitchen now and —”
“Not so fast.”
