He sets his keys down. I hear the faint click of metal against marble. Then the rustle of the bag as he places the take-out order next to his keys. Once his hands are free, he uses them to help guide his big body to the floor so that he can join me down here.
He doesn’t care that the tile is cold.
He doesn’t care that he’s Dallas Collins and, as a thirty-year-old grown man, he probably hasn’t sat on the floor like this in years.
He just plops down beside me. “Hey. You okay?”
No. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
I nod.
“‘Cause if you want to eat dinner down here, that’s fine with me. I got us burgers. Might have to wash our hands first, but then, yeah, let’s go for it, Luce.” He pauses. “You do something new to your hair? It looks good. Fuck, you always look great, but I like it.” Reaching out, Dallas takes one of the tousled waves, curling it around his finger. “And the dress.” His eyes light up with sudden arousal. “I’ve gotta send Loni a fruit basket or some shit. She knows how to pick out clothes.”
See? Here’s even more proof that I’m messed-up. This is exactly the sort of reaction I’d hoped for from my husband, and now that I have it? My stomach goes tight in sudden nerves as my brain insists he’s only saying that to be kind.
Damn brain.
Murmuring a ‘thank you’ under my breath, I give Dallas a thin-lipped smile. Then, doing my best to convince myself that my stomach is suddenly queasy because I haven’t eaten in hours and I can smell the food he brought, I start to climb to my feet.
Dallas runs his hand over the curve of my ass. “Sure you want to get up? We can have fun right here. Dinner can wait.”
I shake my head. “I’d rather eat, if that’s okay.”
“Yeah. Of course. I brought dinner because my wife needs to eat.” Showing off his athleticism, Dallas gets up much faster than I do. Once he has, he grabs me by the waist, helping me to my feet. “We need plates?”
Considering I had a private meltdown before I grabbed them… “Yes, please.”
He presses a quick kiss to the corner of my mouth. “You got it.”
Dallas is in a good mood, at least. Doing my best to follow his example, I force my own insecurities out of my head so that I can enjoy the time I have with my husband. He’s always so busy, and I’m always so alone, it’s nice to just be with him. I’m not going to screw it up for myself. I’mnot?—
Ido.
Dallas manages to hold out until dinner is done and the two of us are sitting on the couch together in the living room. Now that he has seen me in the nightie, it would’ve been noticeable if I changed out of it, so I kept it on. However, despite how he kept shooting me approving looks, all that did was make me think that he might be used to a standard that I can’t reach.
And that’s silly. That’s so silly. He marriedme. He lovesme.I wake up to his boner nestled in the cleft of my ass almost every morning. We have a very healthy sex life for a married couple who spent the last year or two separated. He’s obviously attracted to me.
You’rebeautiful, Dandelion.
I curl in on myself.
He notices. Grabbing the remote from the coffee table, he turns off the show that he was watching and that I was only pretending to.
“Okay. Out with it. Something’s wrong and I’m not going to drop it until you tell me what it is.”
When I press my lips together, not saying a word, he lays his hand on my knee.
“I mean it.” A flash of panic touches his expression. “Shit. Was it me? If I fucked up, if I did something wrong… I didn’t mean it. Okay? I promise you, baby. I didn’t mean it. Tell me what I did. Tell me how to fix it.”
I am a piece of shit. Not only did I spend tonight shutting Dallas out, now I have him worried that he upset me—and all because he wrote me a sweet love note.
I swallow the lump lodged in my throat. “You left me a note.”
His expression goes flat. “I thought you liked my notes.”
“I do! I mean, I do, Dallas. But this one…” I look away. “I have a hard time believing that you mean it.”
