First night: another seemingly endless movie based on some classic novel, that, when it did finally end, was terrible. And Lilia was crying her eyes out over it, her shoulders actually shaking, as the tears flowed so hard.
“Are you kidding me?” I asked. “Unless you’re crying because you wasted all that time.”
She gasped in outrage, wiping her tear-stained cheeks. “I’m crying because it’s a beautiful, tragic love story.”
“You’ve got the tragic part right. But a love story? Every one of those people was completely dysfunctional. And I would have smacked that morose little shit Heathcliff into the next county for what he did.”
“He was insane with grief.”
“He was a piece of garbage.”
She looked very much like she wanted to tell me it takes one to know one. “How are you so…” she never finished, so I still didn’t know what she thought I was.
Second night: I got to choose the movie, and being the gentleman that I am, chose one I thought she would like. Funny, lighthearted, nobody jumped under a train or destroyed generations of a family.
She hated it.
“What even was that?” she asked.
“You didn’t like anything about it?”
She made a sound like she might throw up, looking adorable in a big sweater over her snug pajamas. Seriously, did the woman ever wear real clothes? I couldn’t complain since I wasn’t letting her out of the house, and she looked sexy as hell in most of them.
“I guess I appreciated that it was only an hour and a half long.”
“So you hate comedy?” I asked, trying hard not to smile at how pretty she was when she was offended.
“Fart jokes aren’t comedy.”
“It had a happy ending where the family all came together.”
She sighed, long and hard, her soft, warm breath caressing my cheek. It took all my willpower not to slide a strand of wayward blonde hair behind her ear.
“I guess that part was nice. Sort of,” she said, like it pained her to admit it.
“Don’t strain yourself,” I told her. “You can torture me again tomorrow night with another movie that ends with all the main characters dead or miserable.”
She stuck out her lower lip. Dangerous move. I wanted to kiss that pout away. “Tomorrow I’ll pick one with a happy ending,” she promised.
I couldn’t stop smiling, which made her scowl harder. It meant she was already looking forward to the next night. But she still remained huddled on the far side of the bed at night, her back to me, while I simmered with pent-up desire for my gorgeous wife.
Third night: “This is based on my all-time favorite book,” she said. “I won’t make you watch the five-hour miniseries—”
“God bless you,” I groaned.
She was right that it had a happy ending, but I would be hard-pressed to understand why she loved it so much that she was actually clasping her hands together, her face wreathed with smiles as it ended.
“So did she actually love him or did she just want his money?” I asked. She looked like she might implode, so I hurried to laugh, reaching to take her hand. “I’m teasing,” I lied to keep the peace. “I get it. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a proposal like that guy.”
Lilia blushed, actually looking touched. I dug deep and thought of something I didn’t hate about the movie. “I liked how he took care of that… that scoundrel who ran off with her sister.”
“Oh, yes, I love that part, too.”
She continued to yammer about things that were cut from the movie, and it looked like the five-hour series was in my future. And I didn’t care. I looked forward to it because it meantfive hours with Lilia. The passion that bubbled up from her when she talked about something she loved so deeply, was hotter than any sexy dance in lingerie.
What the hell was happening to me?
Lilia was happening. As she talked, she leaned closer, looking up at me with wide eyes after finishing an impassioned speech about true, perfect love. All she wanted, was something I couldn’t give her. The stab I felt made me wince, and she grabbed my hand.
