HADLEY
Banging my pointe shoe against the counter in one hand, I press the button on the blender for my breakfast smoothie using my other hand. I have no qualms that this will ruin any sleep-in plans that my dear husband may have envisioned.
A proud smirk takes over me when I notice him walk down the stairs, though shirtless, and scratching the back of his scruffy morning hair. He seems rather grumbly, and I don’t mind. The man is the king of mixed signals, because what in the world was last night? I’ll never look at ribbon the same way.
The drilling of the blender sounds like my agonizing heart. I’m slightly disappointed that I caved so easily yesterday. Then again, Connor is the one who faltered first, right? Yet, I gave him the power…
“Uh, what in the world is going on? It’s not even nine,” he groggily calls out over the noise and walks to the cupboard to take out his protein powder.
I stop my noise for a second. “Some of us work all year round. I need to teach old ladies tap dance this morning.”
“Fine, but must you do it making all this commotion?”
I offer him a pointed look. “I always have a smoothie for breakfast when I can. Vitamins are important, just like staying hydrated. And my shoes? I need to break them in.”
He smiles to himself as if he is reflecting, and his gaze falls low to my waist. “Ah yes, your shoes.” He clucks his tongue. Not even two minutes in and he is reminding me of last night.
I hold up the blender cylinder. “Shake? It’s banana, avocado, oat milk, spinach, mint extract, some Brazilian herb, and a hell of a lot of contempt for you.”
Connor walks my way with a swagger in his step, then purposely brushes his arm across my body, sending a tingle to my nipples as he reaches for a glass behind me, our eyes in a deadlock. “Aww, you’re the sweetest. Both figuratively and literally.” Oh crap, he has a saccharine tone, and his grin is too charming for this early in the day. My defenses are too weak before lunchtime.
But I will stand firm. “Let me state the obvious. So what? We had an orgasm. It might happen while we are husband and wife. It is what it is. But make no mistake, it’s not me weakening my resolve, because I didn’t magically forget what an asshole you were the first time around.” His grin disappears and his jaw moves side to side. He hates when I remind him of that, I’ve learned that pretty quickly.
Stepping away from the joint bubble of space that we created, I walk to the other side of the kitchen to grab a massive water bottle and my to-go cup to pour my shake into. Twisting the cap, I ignore Connor who is like a lost puppy right now, unsure of what to do.
But then I freeze mid-twist when he pipes up.
“Let me put in the effort.”
I slowly turn, with fear running down my spine. “What do you mean effort?” My eyes land on Connor leaning against the counter, ankles and arms crossed, and that cunning look is back.
“Let’s call a truce. If we are going to be married for a bit, then let me show you that I can be agood husband,” he casually mentions, and my mind flashes to his use of the label last night and hate that my body responds positively.
Shaking my head, I huff out a breath. “I don’t have time for this. Whatever game you want to play today, have fun. I need to get to my studio,” I declare and grab my shoes and drink in a hurry.
I vaguely hear him mention that he will see me at noon.
* * *
The old ladies were hysterical.They always are. Tap dancing isn’t my go-to choice of style, and I’m counting on one of the teenagers from my dance company to start teaching in the summer. But something about teaching a classic dance number à la “Singing in the Rain” always puts a smile on everyone’s face. After their morning class, I worked on invoices. It’s a weekday, so other than adults and toddlers in the morning, my days are fairly free, as it’s summer, so I have a lighter schedule.
I threw Radiohead on my Bluetooth, put on my new shoes, and ignored the fact that the new ribbons are a little stretched. It doesn’t matter, I get lost in my movement with nobody around. Swaying to the music and seeing where my body flows. I do this for a solid twenty minutes.
I’m landing from my pirouette when I get startled. “What the hell?”
Connor is leaning against the doorframe to the back door with his hands in his pockets, a man confident and eager to show power. Connor’s eyes are filled with… sizzling heat, darker than normal. “You look good twirling around with my wedding ring on your finger.” I tip my head to the side slightly, waiting for him to explain why he’s here. “I guess being your husband gave me the privilege to watch you.”
“Without lurking, oh gee, lucky me,” I retort and turn the music off. I walk to a chair in the corner to unwrap my shoes. “Why are you here?”
“I’m taking you to lunch, of course.”
I glance up as I slip one slipper off then massage the pads on my toes, a soft whimper escaping me as I notice a blister forming. “You’re not taking me to lunch.” I continue to my other foot.
“Truce and effort, remember?” He steps in my direction, examining my foot. “You okay?”
I look at him like he’s crazy. “It’s a blister. I’ll survive,” I answer rather dryly. In truth, I’m far too curious what “good husband” Connor is like.
“Come on, Jolly Joe’s? Catch 22? Dizzy Duck? What do you want to eat? You need to eat, you’ve worked up an appetite.”
