Page 15 of Playing With Fire
“Shannon?”
I look across the table at my husband, hating myself for the comparison, but it’s already taken hold. Gregor’s skin is sallow from the fluorescent lights in the office. His shoulders are beginning to round from staying hunched over paperwork all day, and his button-down hangs loosely off his thinning frame in direct contrast to Hudson’s mass.
“That’s great that something new has come to light that could help you get your client off,” I recite, letting him know I heard him—and also silently wondering if perhaps the people of this city wouldn’t be better off if most of his clients were behind bars. It sounds like this guy’s a real creep.
“Thank you. And I wanted to give you this.” He slides a Tiffany’s box across the table. His eyes dart around quickly and I know he’s looking to see if others are interested in what’s inside.
When I open the lid, my stomach lodges in my throat and oh how Iwishit was because I’m so excited or swept away from positive emotion.
Inside the box is a necklace with a pendant of a mother cradling her child. In the center of the child is Serafina’s birthstone. Although she and I are slowly finding our groove and facing my day as a mother doesn’t elicit the same nauseating response in me that it once did, for our anniversary, I was hoping he’d pick something for me as a wife and not as a mother.
But not wanting to rock the boat, I smile. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
As if attempting to get on the same page for the first time in forever, Gregor grabs my hand across the table. “There’s one more gift, but I didn’t think it would be appropriate to open here.”
My smile stretches wide as hope blooms in my chest. Perhaps hehasheard me recently.
After dinner, he and I come home to an empty house because my parents have Serafina overnight. Greg leads me upstairs and the butterflies that have been absent in my husband’s presence for so long make a comeback, filling me with hope as they drown out the indifference I felt earlier.
He pushes on my shoulders, encouraging me to sit on the edge of the bed before he retrieves a black box with a red satin bow and kneels in front of me, holding it out.
My excitement makes it hard to go slow and savor the moment. Nice lingerie is a guilty pleasure of mine. Peeling the lid back, I find a beautiful pink silk nightie. The fabric isluxurious and I’m so excited that he took the time to think of me…until he opens his mouth.
“I hope it fits. I gave Deana the sizes I found on the tags in the drawer for your other stuff.”
Disappointment floods my system, causing me to go from admiring the conservative, but beautiful gift, to letting it fall from my hands, on the verge of tears.
“Well, at least the firm’s secretary has decent taste,” I answer with a bite.
When I don’t immediately try it on, he says, “Well, let’s see it,” completely missing the fact that I’m upset.
I set the box aside, deciding maybe tonight is a good time to try a new approach, and head for the drawer of my nightstand.
“I’ll go slip this on and while I’m in the bathroom, I want you to get familiar with this.” I hand my husband my very basic, pink vibrator. He looks horrified as he holds it with two fingers like he’s going to contract syphilis if any more of his skin touches it. “I was…hoping we could try something new tonight,” I tell him, wondering when I became so embarrassed to ask for what I want sexually.
“When did you get this?” he asks, clearly offended.
“I’ve had it a while. You work a lot of hours so...” I trail off, aiming for playful and seductive, trying to get him to imagine me using it on myself, but Greg seems genuinely offended.
“So,what? You sit around and get yourself off all day?” he asks, his condescending tone making a grand appearance.
Enter cold bucket of water.
I rip the device from his hands and throw it back in the drawer.
“No. I don’tsit aroundall day and do anything because I’m too busy cleaning up these seven thousand square feet and taking care of our daughter.”
“Come on, Shan,” he huffs as if I’m being unreasonable. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
How have I never noticed that he only uses my nickname when he’s trying to placate me?
“Yeah, you did. What do you have against using a vibrator? I’m trying to tell you what I need and you’re dismissing me as if I’m the opposing counsel in the courtroom, Gregor. I hate it.”
“Youneedthis toy? Are you telling me you fake it when we’re together?” he asks angrily, turning the argument back on me.
A lot of the time, yes,I want to answer truthfully.
“Greg, everyone’s got to switch it up every now and then,” I say gently. “I’m exhausted these days, but I don’t want to lose myself to being a mother and forget how to be a wife. Using the vibrator will just help speed things along. I crave the closeness with you, but I only have about three coherent minutes once I lay down in bed before I’m dead to the world and no one is good enough to get me there in three minutes.”Am I really blaming myself for not being able to get off fast enough?
