“I uh, may have forgotten to pack Willow's leotard in her bag this morning,” he admits sheepishly, and I sigh as I drop my head forward, already knowing what he wants me to do.
He’s barely said two words to me in a year, only communicating with me about Willow through text, and now he wants to throw me to the wolves? Seriously?
“Dammit, Trick,” I huff, “That is the fifth time, and Drew is going to have my ass. They’re supposed to be doing the dress rehearsal for the recital today, and she’s hormonal as heck because she’s pregnant!”
Drew Martinez, Cage’s amazing ballerina wife, not only helps raise money with shows for many charities but also helped Cage see that he could come home and take his rightful place.
They already have a little girl together, Angela, who is seven months old and adorable, and she’s pregnant with a little boy.
“Come on, buttercup, the woman is fucking scary when she goes into a rant,” he pleads, and I snort, shaking my head.
“Big, badass biker my ass, our daughter is more man than you,” I mutter, and he playfully scowls at me before I sigh, “Fine, I’ll take the heat this one time, but I swear to God, Trick, if you do it again…”
I let my threat hang between us and the sexy ass smirks, making my heart flutter.
“Now don’t go threatening me, buttercup, we both know what happened last time…” He says cockily as he points at me, his wedding ring clear as day on his finger, and I scrunch my nose up, ignoring the flutters I get every time I see it.
The reason why he put the fake snake in my car all those years ago flash before me. The way he was shocked when I threatened to rip his balls from his body if he went near my car that I spent four summers saving up for, not wanting to rely on my parents.
“That’s just mean bringing the fake snake up, Trick, we both know how much I loved that car,” I say, and he grins wide, and the urge to hit him and kiss him at the same time pulls. I quickly look down at my to-do list, or chores as I like to call them, and I sigh, seeing that Dr. Lavish has added several more.
Damn, sly woman.
“I’m not going to be finished until well after six, going into overtime,” I say as I look at Trick, “I’ll have to see if Belle can grab Willow, she was only on a half day.”
Trick frowns and takes my list, but Dr. Lavish quickly snatches it from his grasp, and I roll my eyes at her when she puts it down and says, “Dr. White, we have to go see Betty. Why don’t you say bye to your friend…”
Friend, wow.
This is probably the longest conversation we’ve had in six years, a conversation that felt like us again, before what happened, and she’s just reverted me to his friend.
“You mean my wife,” he snaps back, and I look at him wide-eyed like he’s lost his damn mind.
Did he just?
I mean…
“I-I, well, you I uh…” she stutters, and Trick curls his lip at her and sneers, “Next time you overload my wife’s list to three hours past her clock out time, making it difficult to pick up our daughter because you were hoping I’d fuck you, I’ll report you for sexual harassment and overuse of your power!”
Her mouth drops along with mine, and Trick turns my way and raises a brow at my shocked look.
Six years, he’s barely spoken to me unless it’s about Willow, the past year even less. He’s never brought up the fact I’m his wife, he’s had women drooling over him, and he never pushed them away. What twisted universe am I trapped in—watching my husband, who never guarded my heart, suddenly claim me as if I matter?
“You… you just told her I was your wife,” I stammer, shock rendering me stumped.
He softly reminds me, “Because you are, buttercup.”
He closes my mouth with two fingers, winks, and walks to Betty’s room while Dr. Lavish and I stare at him in shock.
Did my husband just claim me?
Am I living in a twilight zone?
Dr. Lavish growls, then stomps after him, and I blink, before shaking my head, then turn around, ready to go clean out room four. I stop short as I come face-to-face with my husband's mistress, who curls her bottom lip at me.
Today just isn’t my day, is it?
“I have something for you,” Lavender says with a sneer, but I don’t reply to her because what is there to say?
