I reprogramLorientoWifey. The poor girl has no idea who she’s playing with
Lorien
No response.
I can’t say I’m disappointed. I can say I’m surprised. And I’m beyond relieved.
Last night I climbed the man like a tree, made him my safe space, and kissed him. He was unaffected, or worse, uninterested. Brutal to my ego. Crushing to my fragile heart.
I know where I stand. And that would be fine, but having to explain the boulder on my finger today to everyone I crossed paths with means I’ve had to fake, fake, fake and lie, lie, lie, all while smiling and fawning over the man who rejected me.
The man who dropped me at the door and called me Wifey while threatening me with his return.
At least I don’t have to fake it in close proximity with him. This morning was brutal. And when he slid that ring on, his huge warm hands so gentle in their task, it was all I could do to avoid crying. Or screaming.
Work is a bust. Yesterday was terrible. Today is more of the same. If the research weren’t so important, I’d take a vacation and get my head straight. But it is.
Instead of giving my half-assed efforts to the thing I care about most, I meet with the topicals team, pulling sampling criteria for them and lining out the requirements for the clinical trial. It’s tedious administrative work, but my analytical mind is toast. At least I’m doing something for someone.
I’ve booted everything down when my desk phone rings. “Hello?”
“Dr. Anderson, there’s someone here to see you. Can you please come to the front desk?”
“Can you tell me what this is regarding?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t.” The line disconnects and dread pools in my belly. If they found out what I did, they could have me arrested. Removed from the property, never allowed to come back.
A family photo sits on my desk. It’s from my graduation and hooding ceremony. Mom and Dad are on the left, arms around one another. Sam’s on the far right. In the center is me in all my regalia, Strider’s arm slung over my shoulders. They’re my whole world. I slide the photo into my purse, in case I’m not allowed back here, and close up my lab.
I’ve just made it to the reception area when I realize how wrong I was.
I’m not being escorted out. It’s not security or the police.
It’s worse… It’s my jailer.
“Hey, Wifey. How was your day?”
Kill me now.
The security guard smiles huge. “It was nice meeting your husband, Dr. Anderson. And here I didn’t even know you were married.”
I do my fake-smiling-lying routine. “I’m still a newlywed.”
“Honeymoon phase,” Liam adds over my head, grabbing my hand in his, and leading me out.
He opens my car door. Come to think of it, I’ve never opened a door when he’s been around. He takes those old-school manners to the extreme, but in a very quiet way.
I glare as he closes my door and throw on my sunglasses before he can make it to his seat.
“I’m so glad you didn’t have to call an Uber.” There’s humor in the man’s voice as he buckles. “I’d hate that.”
Grrrr. I manage to avoid a growl, but just.
I haven’t said a word to him since I pretended to be sleepwalking last night. Well, except his name. I think that streak should continue.
“Did you want dinner on the way home?” There’s false cheeriness in his tone.
I ate those vending machine powdered-sugar donuts, which were dry to the point of chalky and overly sweet, from my desk drawer and had a Diet Coke. That’s been my whole day. Then again, I had a full meal after midnight so maybe my body’s just revolting.
