My Fake Husband by Black, L. (lightest ebook reader .TXT) 📗

“You don’t owe me comfort. You don’t owe me anything, Trix, I want you to know that. I’d never think you did.”

His voice was almost anguished, and it twisted something inside my chest uncomfortably. Did he think I’d slept with him last week out of gratitude? I got to my feet and shuffled off to my bedroom.

“Good night,” I said half-heartedly as I closed myself off once again.

16 Damon

Driving by her shop, I could see how busy she was. It was the first full day of her reopening, and I knew she’d have a crowd. Trixie had worked so hard to make this shop a reality, to reopen it better than ever. It was good to see her succeed at it, and to know I had a little part in it. I called the shop during my lunch break.

“This is Trixie, how can I help you?” Her voice was brisk, rushed, lots of noise in the background. I grinned to myself.

“Well, you can tell my wife I’ll take care of supper tonight. It sounds like she’s having a busy day,” I said.

“Oh, Damon! You wouldn’t believe it. People around here have been so good to me.” She sounded happy.

“I’ll see you later. I’m proud of you, Trix,” I said.

When I got off work, I picked up her favorites from the Chinese restaurant and had them waiting for her. I wanted her to know she had my full support, that I was happy for her success. That I wasn’t going to come home and whine about work and try to grope her again. So instead of sending flowers, which she’d actually have to select and arrange for herself, I was trying to say it with Chinese takeout. That I was here for her, for whatever she needed. I wouldn’t pressure her again for more than she might want to give.

Still, I opened a bottle of her favorite wine, a chardonnay that probably didn’t go with egg drop soup and shrimp fried rice and egg rolls, but I knew she’d like it anyway. I just wanted to spoil her a little. Not with any expectations, just to show her I was proud of her. That I saw how hard she worked, and I was happy that she was getting the attention she deserved with the reopening. Now if I could just manage to say that to her without tripping over my words or saying something sexually suggestive, that would be the goal.

Staying home from work had made me restless. I’d worked out and returned some library books and got new ones to read. I read half a mystery, got impatient and I showered. I had turned on the cute little robot vacuum and folded up some towels from the dryer. It had seemed like a long day, waiting for her to get home. When I finally got the Chinese food, I lit a couple candles and opened the wine. I was so excited for her to arrive that I panicked a little. Was I making it too sexy with the candles and wine? Should I turn all the lights on and maybe change out of my button-down and put on a crappy t-shirt from the Little League team? I started to freak out like I was a teenager going on my first date with a girl I really liked. Remember, you’re a firefighter, a devoted son and friend, and also her freaking husband, I told myself. So quit acting like a nervous kid!

I tried pacing but it didn’t calm me down. When she opened the door, I was on the living room floor doing pushups.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” she burst out.

“Uh, yeah I was just—doing pushups. Why?”

“Well, first of all, that’s a weird place to do pushups, but mainly I saw you down there and thought, oh my God is he having a stroke? Did he fall down?”

“And what? Break my hip? I’m not that much older than you, Trix,” I said, rolling my eyes as I got to my feet. I felt a little foolish, but her overreaction helped a little.

“I don’t know exactly. I just don’t—I’m not used to coming in from work and finding a grown man sprawled out on the floor in front of the door like that.”

“Well you should probably get used to it. I tend to do it a lot,” I told her.

She nodded her head. “Noted. Hey, what smells so good?”

“I told you I’d take care of supper,” I said with a smile. “It’s from that Chinese place you like.”

“The one in Overton? I can’t believe you went all the way there for takeout. But you were stir crazy, weren’t you?” she asked.

“I was just fine,” I said defensively.

“Vacuum’s done, laundry’s going cause I can hear it. You worked out, went to Overton for food. What else? Oh—new books. Library, too then.”

“What are you, a crime scene detective?” I asked. “So I ran some errands and decided to be productive around the house. I’ve been slacking on the laundry and stuff. You’ve been busy, and it’s not all your job anyway. I was just making up for lost time.”

“So another three days of this and you’ll have re-roofed the entire place, right?”

“Maybe,” I said, “come eat dinner. You can give me crap about doing laundry while you eat. Tell me about your day. Since I’m a shut-in and everything.”

Trixie kicked off her shoes and set them by the door, left her purse on the table, and washed up at the sink. “This is really nice,” she said. “I know it’s hard for you to be home when you’re used to spending so much time at the station. Thanks for getting supper.”

“You want to make fun of me so bad right now, but you’re afraid it’s mean,” I observed.

“Yeah,” she sagged into her chair. “I mean, there you are, facedown on the hardwood floor. What am I supposed to think? You need one of those Life