Page 4 of Playing With Fire
I’ve already been here too long, so I nod goodbye, and head for my truck with an uneasy feeling in my gut.
Chapter 3
Shannon
“Nice flowers,” Gregor says, coming into the kitchen, loosening his tie.
I’m surprised he even noticed the bouquet on the island. If it didn’t cost at least five hundred dollars, it doesn’t seem worth his time these days. He wasn’t always like that, though. When we were dating, Greg was the most romantic man in the world. But once he checked thewifebox on life’s punch-card, he stopped trying. Now his idea of romance is having his secretary pick out something extravagant and shipping it to the house.
It’s almost nine p.m. and other than calling me at two o’clock to tell me he wouldn’t be home for dinner, we haven’t spoken. He also missed Serafina’s bath and bedtime…again.Most days our daughter doesn’t even recognize him.
After a long day apart, where I’ve spent every second stressing over what to do with my infant, my husband’s first words to me arenice flowers.
“Thanks.” I hear the strain in my voice and try to relax. “I sort of had a meltdown last week when the delivery guy woke Serafina up right after I put her down. He delivered another package today and brought these as an apology.”Even though I was the one that screamed at him.
“That’s a little over the top, but a nice gesture, I guess,” Greg scoffs, flipping through the mail and taking a seat on one of the barstools at the counter as I move to reheat his dinner. “Maybe he’s looking for a sugar momma,” he teases. Greg loves having money, but more importantly, he loves flaunting his money. Image is the most important thing in the world to my husband, which is part of the reason I agreed to have a child in the first place. I thought if I compromised, he’d slow down, stop chasing the title of partner for his law firm so aggressively, and perhaps the child would bring us closer together, potentially pulling us from the downward spiral we’ve been on for a few years now.
But I should have known better. Babies don’t make life easier and they aren’t meant to solve adults’ problems.
Choosing to ignore Greg’s comment—because I’m too tired for another argument—I slide the plate of cold food into the microwave.
“Thank you for the earrings by the way.” My voice is robotic, forcing out the words I know I should say, but don’t feel. These days I’m just trying to keep the peace.
I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, it’s just somewhere along the way, Greg began buying me gifts and trinkets as a replacement for spending time with me. Except he’s completely forgotten that I’m not flashy or materialistic and these earrings, like all the other silver, gold, and gemstones, will end up in a drawer in the bathroom.
What I really want are passionate kisses and gentle caresses that turn frantic with need. I miss the hunger, seduction, anddesire. I miss that connection with my husband. Hell, I miss that connection withmyself.
Of course, I know things change after having a child—which is one of the many reasons I never wanted kids in the first place—but things in the bedroom haven’t justdwindled, they’ve stopped altogether. And it’s making me resent my daughter which makes me feel even guiltier than I already do. I loved my career and giving it up to pursue a role I never wanted has been detrimental to my already suffering marriage as well as my mental health.
“I knew you’d love them,” Greg says, bringing me back to the conversation about the earrings I chucked across the foyer earlier today. “I was hoping you’d wear them to the company dinner this weekend.”
My heart stops.
“What dinner this weekend?”
I swear it takes all my willpower not to storm from the room and drink a bottle of Chardonnay in the bathtub. The damn law firm gets my husband a hundred hours a week and now they want his weekend too?Ourweekend?
“Tanner made reservations for everyone at that new steakhouse downtown. He wants to go over a few things in light of the Driscoll incident.”
Ahh, the Driscollincident.Meaning Peter Driscoll slept with the prosecuting attorney so now everything is on hold while they choose new representation. I have no doubts that my husband will put his name in the hat, despite already putting in far more than an average week’s work.
Gregor has been trying to achievepartnerstatus in this firm for four years and these bastards just dangle the carrot in his face case after case.
“Can’t Tanner do that at a staff meeting onMonday morning?” I snap, punching the button on the microwave harder than necessary to retrieve the plate inside.
“Shannon, what’s gotten into you?” Greg asks, using that high-and-mighty tone I hatesofucking much.
As if I haven’t said it a thousand times before, I’ll say it again.
“I’m tired, Gregor. I miss you. I missus, who we were before the pressures of getting pregnant and making partner took over our lives. Between taking care of Serafina all day and your increasing work hours, I never see you and I can’t remember the last time we made love. I’m starting to feel like a single parent and I don’t want to have to give up even more time to the people you see all day, every day, at the office.”
Once upon a time, I was a strong, independent, driven woman who lived fearlessly and went after her dreams with an unparalleled amount of determination. I’ve somehow allowed myself to become a needy, whining, resentful version of her that I barely recognize and don’t even like most days, letting my husband call the shots from where I go, to what I do, to who I see and how much I spend.
Greg spins on the stool and grabs my waist, pulling me between his knees and giving me a hug. I melt into his embrace immediately, my touch-starved body dying to crawl onto his lap.
“I work hard so I can give you everything you want, babe.”
“What Iwantis to spend time with my husband, sleep in, not rush through our coffee, and take Serafina to the lake or the aquarium together.”
