Page 2 of Such A Good Girl

I took my time to dress, pulling on clothes that wrapped me in comfort, as far from the lacy lingerie as possible. Dragging my hair into a ponytail, I washed the sorrow from my face.

By the time I returned downstairs, Jerry had helped himself to a plate of dinner from the slow cooker, spaghetti sauce dripping over his chin where he shovelled the food into his mouth.

I served myself, sitting at the breakfast bar and eating in silence while he flicked through the channels on the TV.

The front door clicked some twenty minutes later, and dread poured into me.

There wasn’t a knock, and that could only mean one thing: Beverley.

‘Good evening, my sweet boy,’ Beverley crooned, kissing Jerry on the head, like he was five, as she swept into the room. Her words clipped as she addressed me. ‘Ashley.’

Gritting my teeth, I bit back the retorts that filled my head. Liketry fucking knockingorget out.

‘Evening Beverley. I’m so sorry, I must have missed your call…’

She tsked at me before dumping a takeout box on the counter in front of Jerry. ‘I don’t need to call to come bring my son some dinner.’

Fiery anger flooded my stomach, eating away at me. When Beverley had followed us across the country, I’d been shocked. Moving away had few perks besides escaping the smother-in-law. I should have known my luck didn’t run that way.

‘He’s got dinner. I cooked,’ I pointed out.

‘Oh, I know, dear, but Mommy knows what he likes best.’

Mommy needed a foot up her ass. I glared at Jerry, sending a thousand fucking signals that demanded he back me up. He tore into the takeout carrier without even glancing my way.

Of course, if Ihadn’thad dinner ready, she’d have vilified me as a terrible wife.

Suddenly, I had gone entirely off of my dinner, wanting to be anywhere but near them. Scraping my leftover pasta into the trash, a scoff came from Beverley.

Closing my eyes, I inhaled. Deeply.Don’t rise to it.

My fingers whitened around the handle of my fork, the last remnants of the pasta falling.

‘You probably shouldn’t be eating pasta anyway. You’ll need to be looking after yourself if you’re going to give me a grandbaby one of these days,’ Beverley’s voice grated.

Heat suffused my face as I tried my best to let it slide. The words came bubbling out, anyway. ‘You’re not getting grandbabies because yourperfect little boyprefers fucking his fist to fucking his wife.’

Stunned silence filled the room. Beverley looked utterly wounded by my words. I’d pay for it, but fuck, did it feel good to say it.

Jerry dropped his fork and scowled at me. ‘Don’t talk to my mom like that, Ash.’

‘And what about me? You’re supposed to be the person who sticks up for me. You’re myhusband.’

‘God, you always have to be so dramatic,’ he said, sighing.

‘Maybe that’s because I’m wasting away here, and even in my home, I’m ignored by you and insulted by her!’ I jabbed a finger toward Beverley, my voice swelling with rage.

‘I pay for everything. I look after you. All you have to do is cook and clean. Most women wouldkillto be in your shoes.’ That even his retort lacked any passion hit me. He didn’t care. I was nothing but a pain in his ass.

‘Who could blame him?’ Beverley added as I crossed the kitchen. ‘Men don’t want to sleep with mouthy women. They want a good meal and a clean house and pea?—’

Slamming the door as hard as I could, I left them there. The tears had my vision swimming as I reached the stairs, each step corrupting beneath my sea of anger.

My bed welcomed me into its dark embrace, the duvet surrounding me in the only semblance of touch I had in my home.

Sobs tore from me, muffled by my pillow.

Even hating him, I hoped Jerry would come. That he’d offer me a warm hug and a kind word, that he’d treat me to a sliver of humanity.

---