Page 4 of His Naive Wife

Iopen my eyes and stretch as I look around Dylan’s studio apartment for him. He lives in a converted loft that once was a warehouse. The front door is on rails, and it locks with a padlock I’ve never seen him use. The room is echoey and cold, but it feels like it’s made for him.

He’s standing naked in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, looking at his phone. He’s thin and muscular with shoulder-length hair, a perfectly groomed beard, and a little too much body hair. But I love him.

“Come back to bed,” I say.

He grunts, mumbles something, then continues looking at his phone. While I wait, I quickly run my fingers through my black hair, then position myself on my side, with the sheet draped over my breasts and hips but nothing else. I think I look seductive and can’t wait for him to turn and notice me.

But he doesn’t.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He grunts again and then glances over at me. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

I wince at his words but then tell myself that he’s just being nice, thinking about my time. I must have told him about my dad asking to talk this afternoon. It’s a conversation I dread having.

“No, I can stay here all day if you want,” I say.

He looks at his watch, then back to his phone.

“I have things to do,” he says.

I stay in my sexy position, still waiting for him to notice. After several minutes, he starts typing on his phone.

“Who are you texting?” I ask.

“My girlfriend.”

I giggle and pick up my phone, waiting for a text from him, but it doesn’t come. I sit up in bed, pulling the sheet up to cover myself more, and check my phone again. Nothing.

I check to make sure I’m not in a dead zone, then close and reopen the app. Nothing. I reboot my phone. Something has to be wrong with my phone for me not to get his text. Still, nothing.

“I don’t get it,” I say. “Was that a joke?”

“Huh?” he asks. “You confuse me sometimes, baby.” He picks up his boxers from the floor and puts them on. “Has your dad said anything about promoting me yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“You asked him, right?”

“Yes, several times. He doesn’t want to hear it.”

Dylan pulls the sheet down, exposing my body. “You like how I’m taking care of you, right, baby?” His hand slides up my thigh, giving me goosebumps.

“Of course, you know I love you,” I say.

“Then why haven’t you gotten me that job? If you really loved me, you would.”

“But it’s not up to me. You know I love you. I love you so much. And you love me too.”

“Does your father know I popped his little girl’s cherry?”

“Don’t say it like that,” I say. “You make it sound like this is all about sex.”

He grunts and gets up from the bed.

“He knows we’re dating and that we love each other.”

“Mmm hmm,” he says as he looks at his phone again.

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