Page 50 of Moonlight & Matrimony
“The papers I signed and filed at the county courthouse say otherwise. Not to mention the way you came on my face last week.” I take in her stunned expression, smirking in response. Not wasting any more time arguing, I carry her into my bedroom, depositing her in the middle of my king-size bed. I stand there for a moment, memorizing the look of her in my space. She’s disheveled in the most endearing way — her hair tousled from sleep, cheeks flushed, wearing only an oversized tee and a pair of boy shorts.
“This isn’t my bed,” she snarks.
“No, but my bed is biggerandmore comfortable,” I reply. “Sit tight.”
An exaggerated eye roll follows me as I back out of the room, smirking as I quietly close the door behind me. “Heating pad, water, pain meds,” I mutter to myself as I head towards the kitchen. “Maybe some chocolate, too.” I grab an empty basket from the console table, quickly gathering the essentials, including a bag of M&M’s from the pantry.
I head back upstairs into the girls’ bathroom, snagging one of Ivy’s hair clips and some of her pads and tampons to keep in my en suite. It’s not often that I use the girls’ bathroom, so it takes me a minute to find everything, but once I’m satisfied with my haul, I return to my room, finding Ivy starfished in the middle of the bed.
Placing the basket on the nightstand, I pull out the bottle of water and the pain reliever. “Sweetheart,” I whisper. “I have your meds. Can you sit up for a minute?”
A very sleepy Ivy scoots closer to the headboard, holding out a hand for her medicine. I place the small white pills in one hand and the uncapped bottle of water in the other.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
After she’s gulped down half of the bottle, she starts to swing her legs over the side of the bed, but I stop her. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Back to my room.”
“I don’t think so. You’re gonna stand for a second so I can pull back the covers, then I’ll set up the heating pad. After that, I’ll leave your snacks on the nightstand and bring the rest of the basket to the bathroom. And you’re gonna let me do this.” She looks at me warily, her gaze flicking to the basket full of supplies.
With a tone of defiance, she says, “This isn’t my first rodeo. I can take care of myself.” I can tell she wants to give in, butsomething is holding her back — instincts honed after years of abuse are telling her to run away.
“But you don’t have to.”
“I —”
I gently place a finger over her lips to silence her. “Let me stop you right there,wife. You’re going to follow my instructions and rest, or I’ll take you over my knee.” A slow blush creeps into her cheeks. “Fuck, you like that idea, don’t you, Trouble?” She shakes her head in response, but the heated look in her eyes tells me she’s not entirely opposed to the idea. I’ll just tuck that knowledge away for another day.
When I don’t say anything else, she grumbles and allows me to get her settled in my bed, placing the heating pad across her lower abdomen.
“Is this okay?” I ask, adjusting the temperature.
“It’s perfect. Thank you.”
In the weeks I’ve known her, I’ve learned that my wife is a caregiver, but she’s reluctant to accept the same care in return. That’s not how I intend for this marriage to work. It may have an expiration date, but I plan to nurture the fuck out of her while I have her. And when she finally moves on to the next man, she’ll remember she’s a queen, and she deserves nothing short of the moon and the stars.
The next man.For some reason, that thought grates.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, checking on my wife for what feels like the thousandth time in the last 24 hours.
Ivy spent the better part of the day curled up in the middle of the sectional with Hazel and Sage on either side, as though they could sense her distress and didn’t want her to be alone. The sweet sound of Rylin’s giggles drifts down the hallway as she taunts Chance with a feathered wand toy.
“Better,” she replies. Her curt tone irritates me. She’s pulling away again, but there's no way in hell I’m going to let that happen. My wife will soon learn that I’m a stubborn son of a bitch.
It was touch and go for a while; I really thought she was going to murder me for hovering so much. Sometime yesterday morning, a migraine came on hard and fast, exacerbating Ivy’s already fragile state. Despite her determination to take care of herself, I refused to let her leave the bed. I drew the blackout curtains closed and soothed her back to sleep with one of my patented foot rubs.
While she rested, I turned my focus to Rylin. We colored, played with the kitten, and watched cartoons. Rylin insisted on a tea party, even going so far as to coerce me into wearing a fluffy pink tiara — I’ll be taking that image to my grave. My knees are still protesting after sitting in one of the tiny child-sized chairs.
Later, Rylin helped me make dinner — homemade pizza and a salad — which we lovingly delivered to Ivy in bed, before snuggling up to watch a movie. At some point, we all drifted off to sleep. It was a surprise to wake up with both of my girls cuddled up to my side, albeit not an unwelcome one. I knew then that I was treading dangerous waters where my wife was concerned.
A notification pops up on my phone, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Miles: Got the blueprints for the Marcello project. Rosie’s in 30?
Luca: See you then.
“Miles needs to show me some blueprints for our next job this afternoon. Do you want to come to Rosie’s for lunch?” Logically, I know I should give them some space, but something is telling me to keep them close. Maybe it’s the fear that Ivy will pull away again, or maybe it’s something much more visceral. Whatever it is, relief washes over me when she agrees.
