I was getting positive feedback left and right; that was afact.
And not just fromchicks.
The crew seemed to think I was a nicer dude now, too. Guys who used to steer clear of me backstage were starting to look me in the eye and wish me a goodshow.
Feltgood.
Who knew not being such a self-obsessed prick would make life so much moreenjoyable?
I’d even apologized to Talia for threatening to fire her, and apologized to a few other people for various shit I’dpulled.
I’d gradually gotten back into a routine of promo work; no solo interviews, but interviews with the other members of my band, no more than two a day. And I hadn’t even slipped or put my foot in my mouth at any of thoseinterviews.
But no one was exactly asking about my sobriety or my marriage, because neither of these topics had hit themedia.
Until thismorning.
It was pretty much my personal version of hell to have to sit through interview after interview fucking dodging every question about my personal life and being all fucking evasive and secretive, but I’d been doing it. ForMaggie.
No; for my relationship withMaggie.
All the while, I just wanted to shout the truth in everyone’sfaces.
I’m in love with Maggie Omura, oh, and by the way, we’re married. Sendgifts.
Except…
Maggie would’ve been pissed. And not the kind of pissed that could be channeled into sexual frustration and end in a nice angry fuck. Like seriously pissed—the kind where she stopped fucking meandtalking tome.
Wasn’t going down that road, ever again, if I could helpit.
So, I’d bit my fucking tongue and slogged through thetorture.
And I kept doing my best to make my wife happy. Not something I had a great track record with, but I was figuring it out. I was finally learning all the waysbesidessex I could put a smile on Maggie Omura’s face, and I was committing this shit tomemory.
Coffee with honey in the morning, mocha if she could getit.
Chocolate.
Yoga.
A few hours of quiet each day to get work done and some time alone every few days, usually involving a bubble bath or the spa, for “Maggietime.”
Time to chat with hergirls.
High-heeledshoes.
Pretty pinkshit.
These were the things that made Maggie Omura happy, day-to-day.
She also liked it when I washed her hair in the shower, and when I had deep conversations with her that didn’t lead to sex. Go figure. Took me a while to figure that one out, but it definitely went a long way to making Maggie happy when we spent quality time together without me putting the moveson.
Bonus: it usually made her so happy she ended up putting the moves on meanyway.
Win-win.
Oh, and girl-on-top. Because sexual satisfaction was now a guaranteed way to give Maggie that happy glow. And no matter who was calling the shots, Maggie loved being on top when we hadsex.
