Page 1 of Claiming His Wife

Chapter One

Mallory

He’s two hours late.I’m not sure why I’m surprised. I shouldn’t be because this is our new norm. Scott spends more and more time at the office, and even when he is home, he’s distracted and inattentive at best. At worst, he’s annoyed by my presence. All the little things he used to love about me seem to be just one more thing he finds aggravating.

I’ll be the first to admit I’m a bit of a mess. The word klutz doesn’t even cover the level of catastrophe that I am. When shopping, things just jump off shelves at me. I trip over thin air like it’s an Olympic sport and I’m going for gold.

I’m easily distracted which is problematic because I tend to forget what I’m doing… especially when doing things like baking. I love to bake but I hate waiting for things to bake, so I do other things while waiting, and then I forget that I have something in the oven until the smoke detector starts blaring.

I’m sometimes forgetful. Okay, a lot of times I’m forgetful. In the last three months, I’ve forgotten the alarm code five times. Three of those times I couldn’t find my cell phone to answer the call from the security company, so the police were dispatched. Officer Shelley has a great sense of humor, thank God, and just laughs while helping me. I’m a bit of a running joke, but I don’t mind because I know I’m a wreck.

Scott knew all of this about me from the start. On our first date, I spilled my wine, bumped a waiter causing a tray of pasta to hit the floor, and tripped on a curb ripping the sleeve of his suit jacket while trying to keep my balance. Needless to say, I was shocked when he called me the next day.

He laughed with me when disaster struck and took everything in stride. Even when I nearly broke his penis… if a man can forgive that level of klutziness, he’s a keeper. Our relationship was hot and heavy from the start. Within two months I moved out of my little apartment and into his condo. Within six months we were engaged. Two months later we were married. Five years later and I think our marriage might be over.

I check my phone for the dozenth time and am disappointed when there aren’t any messages. It’s our anniversary and he forgot, again. After a few minutes’ deliberation, I decide to text him.

Hi honey! Just checking to see when you’ll be home.

I send the message, and it almost instantly shows he read it, but the little dots that indicate he’s replying are absent.

He’s just busy. He’s not ignoring me…

As a distraction, I busy myself checking dinner… the roast is beyond well-done and moving towards becoming beef jerky. The creamy au gratin potatoes are looking a bit like shoe leather covered in cheese. The crunchy asparagus is limp. In other words, dinner is ruined. I spent hours getting everything just right for nothing.

I close the oven door a little harder than necessary and cringe when the clock that hangs on the wall crashes to the floor causing the glass to crack. My eyes start to burn with tears that I won’t allow to fall… I don’t even like the damn clock. My mother-in-law gave it to us as a housewarming gift when we moved into my dream home in my dream neighborhood. It’s a hideous thing with a rooster on it and completely clashes with the modern kitchen. I quickly clean up the mess, then check my phone.

Still no response from Scott. I stare at the little screen with indecision. To message again or not? I look down at the sexy dress I bought just for tonight in hopes that Scott would finallyseeme. The lacy red corset and matching panties underneath it is designed to seduce. I’m not even going to lie, I’m horny and desperate for some affection. It’s been eighteen months since Scott made love to me, and that last time was mechanical and lacked our usual passion.

Oh, fuck it. I’m texting him again.

Will you be home soon?

I chew my bottom lip while I wait. Again, he reads the text almost immediately, this time the three little dots start bouncing, and a little thrill of excitement warms my blood.

I’ll be there when I get there.

My heart stutters in my chest, and not in a good way. I know that is a brush off and a veiled ‘leave me alone,’ but I can’t stop my fingers from responding…

I miss you.

Jesus, Mallory. Quit nagging. I’m busy. It’s called work, and it’s what keeps a roof over your head.

Those tears that I was holding back? No more. They stream down my face ruining the makeup I spent forever applying while watching a tutorial on YouTube. Thirty minutes later, dinner has been disposed of, and the kitchen is sparkly clean. I strip off my little black dress and hang it up.

My reflection catches my eye in the floor length mirror, and I take in my appearance. My alabaster skin sets off the crimson lace of the lingerie. I’ve always thought that my hips are a little too wide and my breasts a little too big, but Scott always made me feel beautiful.“You’re my very own 50s pinup model,”he used to say. Now he doesn’t see me. After some debate, I slip on my silk robe. Just because dinner was a bust doesn’t mean that I can’t still seduce my husband.

Tonight is the night that we end our dry spell.

My phone dings from the kitchen and I run to check it, hoping it’s Scott saying he’s on his way home. It’s not, it’s Zack, my best friend.

How’s it going?

Did Scott remember your anniversary? If he didn’t, Jen knows a good hitman…

I’m assuming you’re fucking like the horny little bunny you are since you’re not responding.

Get ‘em, girl!

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