Copyright © 2007 Ava Rose Johnson
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.
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Unable to bear the silence any longer, he cleared his throat. "Carrie made another angel for the top of the tree today."
"Oh, Christ." Grace laughed, putting her fork down. "We're going to have to get another tree."
"We're going to have to get another five trees at the rate they're producing decorations."
She nodded, leaning back to peer into the living room. The move exposed her long neck and one of her white bra straps. He blinked, taking a gulp of wine. A man knew he'd gone too long without sex when the sight of a bra strap turned him on this much.
"Maybe we should get a small tree for the playroom," she said, seemingly unaware of the bolt of lust her lingerie had sent surging through his body. "Or for in here. I love having them around the place."
"They'd love that."
"Yeah." She ran a hand through her curls, the corner of her sumptuous red mouth quirking upward. "So, tell me. What's this all about?"
He took a deep breath, pleasantly surprised that her gaze met his and stayed there. "I don't think I have to tell you what this is about, Grace."
The hint of a smile faded from her face, and a look of anxiety entered her eyes. "You want a divorce."
It took a few seconds for him to absorb her quiet words. "No. I don't. The opposite, actually."
She lifted an eyebrow. "We're already married, John."
His name on her lips made him ache to grab her by the arms and kiss her hard. "I mean, I want us to work on it." He swallowed, and his palms became sweaty.
Grace didn't answer. Tension had stiffened her shoulders again, and he could almost see how much effort it took for her not to chew on her lip, a sure sign of her anxiety.
He ordered himself to hold her gaze, to wait it out. But with each second of silence that ticked by, a wave of doom approached, threatening to drown him and his marriage.
Fuck this. Pushing his chair back, he got to his feet. "I'm going to take a shower. You think about it and let me know." He dumped his plate in the sink and stormed out of the kitchen, forcing himself not to slam the door behind him.
Her reluctance to give him an answer had anger firing his blood. But heck, what had he expected her to say? Of course I want to work on it, John. I love you so much. Was that what he wanted to hear? Yes. But it was hardly reasonable to expect that of her.
His steps slowed as he reached the top of the stairs, tired fear slipping over his body. What if she said no? What if she decided it was best to get a divorce and move on? Buy Now!