His Curvy Wife E-Book

Mary E. Thompson

• Herausgeber: BluEyed Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Ramsey
Dating. My wife was dating. She wanted more kids, even though the doctor said it could kill her, so I left. Now she’s dating. I saw her. With that other guy. He put his hands on her. 
On my wife. 
He was going to touch her. Love her. Make her laugh. Risk her life. 
Hell. No. 
She was still mine. 

Melody
I’ve only ever loved one man. One gorgeous, maddening, wonderful man. I still loved my husband, but he walked out. He couldn’t fix me, couldn’t change my mind, so he asked for a divorce and moved out. I had no reason to make him stay. We weren’t the same people we used to be. 
But I still wanted more kids. I wanted someone to share my life with. Online dating sounded better than picking up single dads in the pickup line. Joke was on me, though. The one person I liked talking to was the one person I was trying to forget. My husband. 

Leseprobe

HIS CURVY WIFE

A SMALL TOWN CURVY GIRL ROMANCE

BOOK BOYFRIENDS WANTED

BOOK TWO

MARY E THOMPSON

His Curvy Wife

Book Boyfriends Wanted, book 2

Copyright © 2020 Mary E Thompson

Cover Copyright © 2021 Mary E Thompson

Cover Photo from depositphotos, Copyright © innervision

Cover background from depositphotos, Copyright © tomert (lights) and Milanares (blue)

Cover watercolor stripe from depositphotos, Copyright © ronedale

Published by BluEyed Press, All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, businesses, locations, and events are either products of the author’s creative imagination or are used in a fictitious sense. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-944090-85-2

Print ISBN: 978-1-944090-86-9

Audiobook ISBN: 978-1-944090-87-6

Created with Vellum

BOOK BOYFRIENDS WANTED

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Epilogue

About the Author

For Alex…

1

MELODY

I’ve learned there are two kinds of plus sized women. The first one is like my sister, Willow. Willow was chubby growing up. She had those cute, chubby, baby cheeks, and those adorable chubby thighs, but when she outgrew the baby stage, they hung around.

Girls like Willow were lucky once they became adults, though, because by that time they’d developed thick skins. They took all the name-calling and teasing and turned it into armor to protect them against the people who thought they were less than simply because the scale said they were more than.

Willow was sarcastic and sometimes mean, but she wore her weight like a badge of honor. She no longer cared if she didn’t get asked out because she knew how to take care of herself. It didn’t matter if she was overlooked because she threw it back in their faces. Willow, and women like her, were powerhouses in the chubby girl world. They were the champions telling the rest of us to stand up and be proud. The ones wearing tight clothes and two-piece bathing suits and showing off all their assets whenever they felt like it.

The other kind of plus sized women were like me. Average, or even thin, growing up. I never had a date ask me if I wanted salad instead of pizza or was told I shouldn’t eat that extra cupcake at a birthday party. I could sit on the couch and read a book or watch TV and no one ever suggested I go outside and get some exercise. I was invisible because I was what the world accepted as normal.

But as an adult, I had to learn not to be mad when those things happened. When a waiter raised his eyebrows when I ordered extra cheese on my burger. Or when a mom pursed her lips when I grabbed the biggest piece of cake at her daughter’s birthday party. Or when no one looked my way with interest when I walked into a bar, but everyone turned and stared at the woman in the blue dress, devouring her with their eyes.

Not that I blamed them. The woman was stunning. She had long legs and one of those Pinterest-worthy butts, and she was all perky and perfect.

I sighed and swirled the straw through my drink. It was so easy for women like her. I envied them. The ones who knew how to flirt and could dress up and look sexy without even having to think about it. I didn’t even want to imagine the layers of Spanx and slimmers I would need to look like I was twice her size.

“I need lessons on how to be sexy,” I said to myself.

“No, you don’t,” someone said from behind me.

I spun on the bar stool and sucked in a breath. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were there.”

“Then who were you talking to?” Hudson Grant was the owner and bartender at O’Kelley’s. The bar was also one of only two bars in MacKellar Cove, the town in the Thousand Islands of upstate New York that I called home.

I grew up in MacKellar Cove, fell in love in MacKellar Cove, and had my entire life in MacKellar Cove. I loved it here and couldn’t imagine ever living anywhere else. But there were definitely things I didn’t like. For example, the best bartender in town was close friends with my soon-to-be ex-husband.

I shrugged. “Myself, I guess.”

Hudson leaned on the bar and smiled. He was a good looking guy, and a good man. He was four years older than me, so we didn’t grow up together, but we’d become friends over the years. The shaved head under his baseball hat and the full beard he hid behind gave him an edge of badass, but if you looked closely, his eyes were far too kind to be an ass. “Melody, you don’t need lessons on how to be sexy. No woman does.”

“Not one who looks like her,” I said with a nod toward the woman who’d captured the attention of all the men in the bar. Three were walking toward her, and the rest of the bar watched, waiting to see if they’d get a chance. Even the women stared at her. No one was immune to how attractive she was.

Hudson followed my gaze. His trailed down the woman’s shapely legs to her red heels and back up her blue dress to where she was almost falling out of the top. She was gorgeous, and she was flaunting what she had. I didn’t hate her, but I was jealous as hell of her. I’d never looked like her.

“See, this is the problem. Women don’t have any idea what sexy really is,” Hudson said, wiping his towel across the smooth wooden bar top.

I scoffed and spun back to him. I tilted my head, my dull brown hair falling over my shoulder. “Are you honestly going to tell me that woman isn’t sexy?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m not. She is. But not for the reasons you think.”

“Oh, really?” I asked with a laugh, propping my chin up on my hand. “Enlighten me.”

“When you look at her, what do you see?”

I turned on my stool and looked at the woman again. “Long, thin legs. Killer heels. A sexy dress that hugs her slim body and accents her boobs and her ass. Gorgeous hair. Pouty lips. Bright blue eyes. Shall I keep going?”

Hudson shook his head. “You just described her. You told me what she’s wearing and what she looks like.”

“So?”

“That’s not what makes a woman sexy,” Hudson said.

I spun on my stool, but he held up a finger to me and walked a few people over to serve drinks to the customers waiting for their Friday night relaxation.

I turned back to the woman and tried to see something else. What else made her sexy? What else made any woman sexy?

“Have you figured it out yet?” Hudson asked a minute later.

I faced him again and shook my head. “Nope. I think you’ve been drinking tonight.”

Hudson chuckled. He never drank, and everyone in town knew it. At least, not while he was working, and he was always working.

“It’s her confidence. That’s what makes her sexy.”

“What?” I blurted.

“That woman could be wearing jeans and a tee and every man in the room would still want her—”

“Yeah, because she’s hot.”

Hudson nodded and gave me one of those smiles he gave people when they’d had too much to drink and thought they could drive. Right before he took their keys and called them a ride home. “She is. I agree. But it’s the way she presents herself. She’s not hot because she has a nice body or is wearing a great dress. Personally, I think she looks a little silly in that dress when it’s snowing outside, but she didn’t ask me. She has confidence, and she’s sure of herself. That’s why every man in the room is looking at her.”

I turned back to the woman and looked more closely. She was beautiful, but Hudson was right. I’d seen other women just as pretty as her but with half her confidence who didn’t command the attention of so many men. I’d also seen women who looked nothing like her and had men drooling because they knew they were hot.

“You see it now, don’t you?” Hudson asked.

“Yes,” I grumbled. “I was hoping it would be easier than that to feel good.”

Hudson patted my hand and walked away. Guess the good advice from the bartender was over. Of course, he was also one of my husband’s best friends, so he probably didn’t want to get in the middle of it. Of any of it.

I sipped my drink and looked out at the crowd again. Willow was still on the dance floor with some guy. It always amazed me that she could meet a guy, sleep with him, and part ways without a second thought. And even more shocking was that she met men she didn’t already know. Whether they were guys who were older or younger or guys who didn’t live in MacKellar Cove, my little sister managed to avoid awkward hook ups in a way that made it almost look like it could be fun.

I shuddered. Just the thought of sleeping with someone else made my skin crawl. I fell in love with Ramsey when we were in high school. He was it for me from the day we first met. Not that he felt the same. I was in the background for longer than was sane, but I loved him.

We started dating in high school, but when he went away to college, we broke up. The break up didn’t last, but it was long enough that I decided to try dating other guys. I went to homecoming with a guy from my math class. He was cute, and smart, and funny, but when he touched me, I felt like I was going to be sick. He wasn’t Ramsey. No man was Ramsey.

I told myself I had to find a way to get over it, but I never did, and when Ramsey and I got back together a few months later, I thought I’d never have to. I knew I was going to marry him.

But now, I was thirty-five and staring down a divorce from the only man I’d ever wanted. Life sucked.

“Hey,” Willow said, taking the seat next to me and my drink. She drained my glass in one gulp and exhaled. “You should come dance.”

I shook my head. “I don’t really want to get in the way of you two.”

Willow shook her head. “He left. His friend’s wife freaked out.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. It sounded like code for his wife, but I wasn’t going to lecture my sister. “I’m getting tired.”

“You are not going home,” Willow said firmly.

Even though there were five years between us, Willow was always my best friend. When she was born, I acted like she was my baby, protecting her and caring for her. As she grew up, I stayed close, wanting to protect her still. I will always regret that I couldn’t keep her from developing that thick skin. That I wasn’t in the same school as her to defend her against the Kathy Rogers of the world who thought it was funny to torment my little sister forever.

Willow was also the only one I talked to. She knew I wanted to go home because Ramsey was there with Amber. We worked out a visitation schedule, and when it was his turn to spend time with her, I did everything possible to give them space to play and talk and be together in the only home Amber had ever known. Which meant I left.

“I’ll go in the other room,” I whined. Willow was right. I hated to admit it, but I’d become like a junky lately, desperate for any little piece of Ramsey I could get.

I really thought the holidays were going to be the hardest part about getting divorced. Surviving Thanksgiving and Christmas without my best friend and partner by my side was easy compared to what came after.

The holidays were all about Amber. That was how it should be. She was spoiled rotten by both of us, and she was the one who made everything easy. Focusing on her made forgetting what was missing easier. Not foolproof, as evidenced by my Christmas Eve meltdown when I realized the gigantic play castle I bought her was something Ramsey would have been able to put together in about five minutes but took me the better part of three hours.

But after that, it was easy. She was overjoyed with her presents, and her first long break from school was a chance for us to spend time doing silly things like snowball fights and dressing up like our favorite princesses.

It wasn’t until after the break, when she was back in school and I was back to the boring life I’d adopted over the last few months that I realized just how wrong I was when I thought getting through Thanksgiving and Christmas was going to be the hardest part about getting divorced. Oh, no. Those holidays had nothing on Valentine’s Day.

Damn Valentine’s Day. The day Ramsey and I always got a babysitter, usually my sister, and went away. A night in a hotel, a luxurious dinner alone, and an opportunity to reconnect.

When we were first dating and then first married, those nights were a luxury, a chance to spoil each other. Once Amber was born, those night became our best chance to have sex. To rekindle the fizzling romance that held us together for so long. It never mattered what was going on with us when Valentine’s Day rolled around. We were in love, and we put everything else aside to show each other how special and important our relationship was.

And for the first time in more than fifteen years, I was going to be spending the holiday alone. I’d already spent our tenth anniversary alone, crying myself to sleep and praying Amber didn’t wake up and ask why I was so upset. Spending Valentine’s Day without Ramsey just might kill me.

“You’re not leaving,” Willow stated firmly. “You’re staying here with me, we’re going to drink and have fun, and then you’re coming home with me tonight.”

“But—”

“No buts! Ramsey is with Amber. There is nothing you need to go home for. He left you. He moved out. He didn’t want more kids. You’ve always wanted a huge family. That’s why you two bought your house. That’s why you let him walk away. That’s why you’re going to find someone else and give my perfect niece some brothers and sisters. Because you deserve it.”

I took a deep breath and nodded. Willow was right. I knew she was right. I hated it, but it was true. I always wanted a big family. After our own less than stellar upbringing, I wanted to have a boatload of kids and make them feel special and amazing and perfect, things Willow and I were never given permission to feel.

“Another drink, Hudson!” Willow shouted toward where Hudson was serving drinks at the other end of the bar. If he wasn’t there, two to three bartenders handled things, but with him tending bar, he kept the other employees on the floor running drinks and serving food.

Hudson nodded to Willow as she walked behind the bar and grabbed a bottle. Vodka. Willow and I both liked vodka. She poured a healthy two fingers into my glass and grabbed one for herself. She added a splash of Sprite and enough cranberry juice for the drink to turn pink, then pushed mine toward me.

We lifted them and clinked our glasses, not needing words to know we were both thinking of the other’s happiness with every wish we’d ever made. I turned the glass up and let the alcohol fill my mouth. The fizz threatened to come back out of my nose and the sour cranberry juice made me pucker, but I swallowed it anyway.

Willow’s drink was gone in two gulps, and she stood behind the bar encouraging me to finish mine. She refilled them as Hudson headed our way, then she led me onto the dance floor.

I drank and laughed and spun and danced. I let the freedom of having zero responsibility take over and let me enjoy my night off with my sister. We sang at the top of our lungs to the songs we knew, and swayed together when a slow song came on. And for just a little while, I let myself forget my heart was broken and the love of my life had left me.

Two guys watched us as we danced. They were cute, and I didn’t think they were locals. They smiled at us, and when Willow winked at one of them, they both approached us.

“Hey,” the one guy said to me. He was the taller of the two with dark eyes, full lips, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist. Ramsey had the same shirt the guy was wearing. I’d gotten it for him for Christmas a couple years ago.

I forced a smile. “Hi.”

“I’m Mitch,” he said, extending his hand.

I stared at it for an embarrassingly long time then shook my head and reached for it. He smiled at me, and I went back to tugging on my fingers, a nervous habit I’d done forever.

“Oh, sorry. I, uh, didn’t realize,” he said.

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to figure out what he knew that I didn’t know. He was staring at my hands. I looked down, but they were the same hands I’d always had. Sure, they weren’t smooth like a twenty year old’s hands, but there wasn’t anything wrong with them. Short, painted nails. Proportional fingers. And…

Oh.

My rings.

“Um, yeah,” I said, trying to figure out if it was a good excuse or if I should play it off.

“You’re married?” Mitch asked.

I hesitated for a second then nodded.

“Well, I mean, if it doesn’t bother you…” He shrugged.

Was he serious? “If what doesn’t bother me?”

He shrugged again. “If it doesn’t bother you that you’re married, it doesn’t bother me either. We can still hook up.”

“Are you kidding me?”

He shook his head. “Married women never ask why I didn’t call or when they’re going to see me again. I didn’t know, but if I did, I still would have come over.”

“Why?”

“Um, what?” he asked, confused now.

“Why would you have still come over? If you knew I was married. Why did you come over at all?”

“Um, well, I, uh…”

“Go away, Mitch.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said, racing away.

I shook my head. My buzz was gone, and I was tired. I motioned to Willow that I was going to get a refill and reclaimed my bar stool.

Willow kept dancing with Mitch’s friend. I sat on my stool and watched them and the other people in the bar. Enjoying their Friday night. Blissful. Lucky.

I just wanted to go home and hide under my covers. Hide and never come out again. That way I didn’t have to face creepy guys who wanted to sleep with married women and sexy women who could sleep with any man and my husband…who was never going to sleep with me again.

Dammit.

2

RAMSEY

I smiled at my daughter and checked my phone for the thousandth time since my wife walked out the door. I knew she was at O’Kelley’s, and that she was with her sister, but my mind was on overdrive thinking of all the other people there. People with cocks who would take one look at Melody and want to take her home. People who were smarter than me and wouldn’t let her go.

“Daddy, look!” Amber said in her too loud voice.

I turned back to her, shoving my phone into my pocket, and grinned. “Good job, honey. That was great.”

I had no idea what she actually did, but it was harder than I could do. I’d never taken a dance class in my life, but that was irrelevant. My daughter was insanely talented, even if all she was doing was spinning in a circle with her hands in the air.

“Ms. Emily says I’m the best spinner in class,” Amber said proudly. Her red hair floated around her as she spun again, showing off her new skill.

“I bet you are. No one could be nearly as good as you,” I told her with a smile. “Do you want to play a game?”

Amber abruptly dropped to the floor and nodded. She loved games. Board games, games on my phone, games we made up. She was easy to please.

We picked Candy Land to start with. Amber won, as always, then she got to pick the next game.

We spent an hour playing games before she yawned. She wasn’t old enough to be able to tell me when she was tired, but it was getting closer to her bedtime. The only thing Melody and I talked about anymore was Amber, so I knew the school year wore her out. She conked out earlier on the weekends than usual, and she fell asleep faster during the week. All the excitement was good for her, but it definitely left her exhausted.

“Why don’t we take a bath and read a book?” I suggested, hoping she’d go for it.

She nodded and lifted her arms when I stood. I scooped her up and my knees nearly buckled when she wrapped her arms around my neck and rested her head on my shoulder.

I’d missed that. A lot. Of everything I’d missed by moving out, the day-to-day with my family was the hardest. Amber was growing up quickly, and it made sense for Melody to be the one who had her full time, but it meant I missed out on a lot. Bath time, nighttime cuddles, story time, and everything that used to come after that.

I drew in a breath and pushed those thoughts out of my head. Amber cuddled on my lap while I ran her bath. Once I made sure it wasn’t too hot, I told her to climb in. She was too tired to splash and play, so she washed quickly, then got right back out, cuddling back into me once I had her wrapped in a towel.

She sleepily pulled on her pajamas and crawled under the covers. I laid down next to her and opened the well-worn copy of Charlotte’s Web. It was Melody’s favorite book as a kid and she started reading it to Amber when she was pregnant. We’d continued reading it, re-reading the book at least twice every year.

I softened my voice and started reading where they left off. Amber yawned and curled against my side. I wrapped my arm around her little body and held her close, inhaling the sweet scent her of fruity shampoo.

It wasn’t long before Amber’s soft snores filled the room. I kept reading until I finished the chapter, then set the book on the nightstand. I curled around my daughter and held her for a minute, wishing I would be able to sleep under the same roof as her again.

She wiggled against me and turned over, and I sighed. She never liked to cuddle at night. During the day, she’d crawl in my lap and play with my hair or Melody’s, but at night, she needed her space. I eased out of her twin bed and turned off the lamp, then left her room, closing her door like we’d always done.

I checked my phone once I was in the living room again. No messages from Melody. It wasn’t late yet, but she didn’t say what time she’d be home. She’d never been one for going to bars or staying out late, but I wasn’t sure I knew her anymore, so maybe she was now.

I felt like a creeper walking around the home I’d called mine until a few months ago. Was it okay if I watched TV? Was the food in the fridge saved for a future dinner? Hell, I wasn’t even sure where I could sleep if Melody didn’t get home until really late.

It sucked being a guest in my own home, but I was the one who left. I was the one who said we should get a divorce. Yeah, I felt like we were over, but she never said those words.

I leaned my head back on the couch I’d found so comfortable when I lived there and told myself it was for the best. Melody wanted more kids, and the only way to stop that was to lose her. At least she would live. If I gave in and we had another child, she could die. That was what the doctor said. Mel didn’t care. She wanted to have another kid, more than one. And she wasn’t giving up. Which left me only one option. I had to.

Walking out the door was the hardest thing I’d ever done. Mostly because there was a part of me that honestly believed she’d tell me not to go. It hurt my pride almost as much as it hurt my heart that my wife would rather have another child than me, but if we weren’t together, she wouldn’t have another child. She wouldn’t die. She would live and Amber would grow up with her mother.

That was what really mattered to me.

I made some popcorn around eleven and wondered if I should call Melody. If I did, was that going to make me look like a desperate ex? What if she was with someone?

Just the thought had me clenching my fists and ready to punch something. She was still my wife, and until we signed divorce papers, she belonged to me.

* * *

Sometime during the night, I passed out on the couch. I woke up with a stiff neck watching infomercials about cleaning the house.

I got up and walked down the hallway to my old bedroom. The lights were off, but I could tell Melody wasn’t there. I walked into the bedroom, not turning on the lights, and just stood there.

Melody’s scent filled the room. Her perfume, the same one she’d worn since high school, floated around me. Her shampoo drifted out from the bathroom. The bed was made, but the indent on her side was more pronounced. Or maybe that was just because my side was covered in pillows.

My old side. It wasn’t my side anymore. Nothing in the room was mine anymore. My clothes were out of the closet, my personal items out of the bathroom. Every trace of me had been erased from the house.

I went down the hall to one of the guest rooms, the one next to Amber’s room. When we bought the four bedroom house, we planned to fill it with children and laughter and love. We had a guest room so friends and family could stay, but the second nursery became a second guest room instead of a second nursery once we lost Steven. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to go into that room.

The bed in the guest room was comfortable. I’d slept on it more than once when I still called the house my home. I stared at it like the death sentence it felt like it was. Melody didn’t come home. After a night at a bar, she didn’t come home. And she didn’t call or text me to say she wouldn’t be. Which left me with only one possibility of where she was.

I tossed and turned on the once comfortable bed until the sun forced its way through the curtains. I wanted to pull the covers over my head and forget about the outside world, but footsteps raced down the hallway and told me I had a job to do.

Amber was standing at the end of the hallway, looking around. Melody was always the first one up. She let me sleep in whenever I wanted, but she was up early, making breakfast, drinking coffee, and getting ready for Amber to wake up.

“Mommy?” Amber called out softly, a hint of fear in her voice.

“Hey, baby girl,” I said, drawing her attention.

“Daddy!” her brown eyes lit up with joy and she rushed to me.

I bent down and scooped her up, holding her close. The fear inside her gave way to excitement as my regret ramped up and made it hard for me to breathe. I wasn’t around. I wasn’t there for so much, and Amber was excited to see me, but it also reminded me how rare it was for me to be there in the morning, or at all.

“What do you say we fix some breakfast?” I suggested, carrying her to the kitchen.

“Where’s Mommy?”

I shook my head and pasted on a smile. I was not going to show my daughter how upset I was that her mother didn’t come home. That she spent the night with a stranger instead of home with us.

Us. What a joke.

“Mommy isn’t here.”

Amber’s face paled. “Did she leave me like you did?”

That was it. That was the moment I knew I’d never recover from walking away from my family. My daughter thought I left her. She was so young that we never sat her down and explained it all to her, but she drew her own conclusions and thought it was all her fault.

Instead of continuing to the kitchen, I took her to the couch and sat with her on my lap. “First of all, Mommy will be back. She just spent the night out with Aunt Willow. She didn’t leave you and she never will. She loves you.”

Amber’s bottom lip wobbled and her eyes filled with tears. “You don’t love me?” she asked in a shaky voice that shredded me.

I hugged her close and shook my head. “No, Amber, that’s not it at all, baby. I love you. So much it hurts. I hate not being here with you all the time.”

“And Mommy?”

I nodded and swallowed the lump in my throat. “And Mommy. I wish I could still be here with you guys.”

“Then why can’t you? In school, Mrs. Anderson says we have to be nice to everyone, but we can be friends with whoever the people we like the most. If you like me the most, can we be friends still?”

I smiled through my pain and tucked her wild hair behind her ear. “We’ll always be friends. And I’ll always love you. You will always be able to tell me anything, and I’ll always be here for you. Me leaving has nothing to do with you.”

“So, you don’t love Mommy?”

I drew in a breath and smiled again. “I do love Mommy.”

“Then why don’t you live here?” she cried.

“Because…” How do you explain to a child that leaving was about loving the people you left when you didn’t even understand it yourself? How could I tell her that if I stayed with them, Melody would wear me down until I gave her anything she wanted and it could mean losing her forever? How did I tell my daughter that?

“Why don’t you live here, Daddy?” she asked again.

“Because Daddy and Mommy want different things,” Melody said from behind us.

I didn’t hear her come in. I didn’t know how much she heard. All I knew was she was there, as always, with the right words to put a smile back on Amber’s face.

“Mommy!” Amber shouted, jumping off my lap and rushing toward her mother.

Melody took a step back when Amber barreled into her. She wrapped her arms around our daughter and smiled, then dropped to the floor to scoop Amber up. “Hey, sweetheart. How was your night with Daddy? Did you guys have fun?”

Amber nodded. “We did. Daddy let me play games and I showed him my dance. He said Ms. Emily is right and I am the bestest spinner in class. And we ate dinner. And Daddy read some more of Charlotte’s Web to me before I fell asleep.”

“That sounds like a great night,” Melody said. “I’m so happy you had fun with Daddy. And I thought you’d still be sleeping this morning. How early did you wake Daddy up?”

Amber shrugged, and Melody finally looked up at me. Our gazes collided and the guilt in her eyes made my gut swirl. Her not coming home sent my imagination into a tailspin, but seeing the guilt in her eyes and knowing she was with someone else was more than I could handle. She avoided looking at me, but the second she did, I knew. I knew she wasn’t with Willow like I hoped, even though I knew every second she spent with her sister was taking her farther away from me. No, my wife spent the night in the arms of another man.

“We haven’t been up long,” I finally managed.

Melody nodded and focused on Amber again, breaking the connection we had. “Why don’t we get breakfast started?”

“Daddy was going to make breakfast. He’s going to have breakfast with me.”

Melody’s eyes went to mine again. She gave me a tentative smile and nodded. “Sounds great,” she said to Amber a little too brightly. “Why don’t you two get started while I go change?”

Amber happily skipped to the kitchen, and when I didn’t immediately follow, she said, “Come on, Daddy.”

I wanted to talk to Melody, but I couldn’t in front of Amber, so I followed my daughter to the kitchen while my wife changed out of her sex clothes.

Amber and I made French toast for breakfast, with bacon and sausage because, why not? Melody and I drank our coffees and pretended everything was fine. Amber didn’t notice Melody and I didn’t speak to each other. She simply chattered happily about everything going on.

After breakfast, Melody told Amber to change out of her pajamas. Amber argued, but Melody pointed out the syrup on them, and Amber finally agreed.

As Amber left the kitchen, Melody started cleaning up. I stayed at the table, the one we picked out together when we were first married. It was old and worn, but it was sturdy, a fact we’d tested out more than once before Amber was born.

I stared at the table and tried to think of anything other than my wife testing out the table, or another table, with another man. The longer I stayed silent, the more pissed off I was.

“Do you do this often?” I asked her.

“Do what?” she replied, not facing me.

“Stay out all night?”

She spun around and glared at me, one eyebrow raised. “Excuse me?”

“I was just wondering if you usually spent the night with someone else when Amber is home wondering where you are and if you’re coming back.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and dammit, my gaze went there. Because she knew me so well, she noticed and dropped her arms to her sides. Her fists clenched, and I ground my jaw to keep from opening my mouth. I wanted an answer.

“No. I’ve never spent the night out. I’ve never done anything. I’m home, raising our daughter night and day, like I’ve done her entire life.”

I scoffed. I couldn’t help it. I was pissed off. Furious. I hated that my wife screwed someone else while I was home with our daughter, and she didn’t even have the decency to tell me she wasn’t coming home.

“Who was he?” I asked.

Her eyebrows went up. Her hands lifted, like she was going to cross her arms again, but she dropped them back to her sides. She pursed her lips together and drew in a breath. “Who was who?”

I stood up and stalked over to her. I waited until I was close enough to feel the heat from her body and smell her scent. She must have put more perfume on when she changed because I couldn’t smell another man on her. “Who was the man you went home with last night? The one you spent all night fucking while I was here with our daughter? The one you were so wrapped up in that you couldn’t be bothered to tell me you weren’t coming home?”

She flinched like I slapped her, then straightened, raising herself up. She squared her jaw and glared at me. “You haven’t spent a night with Amber in months, Ramsey. Months. You walked out of this house and decided you didn’t want me anymore. You made that choice, not me. And you don’t ever get to walk back in here and tell me what I can or can’t do, or who I can or can’t sleep with.”

“Just tell me if you’re screwing someone I know. Just so I’m prepared that when I see him again I know if he’s seen my wife naked.”

She scoffed and shook her head. “I didn’t realize you were this big of an asshole. I really didn’t.”

“You’re my wife, Melody.”

She shook her head again. “No, I’m not. You said you wanted a divorce. You walked out on me. You left. So, no, I’m not your wife, I’m the woman raising your daughter.”

“Tell me who you were with last night.”

“Screw you, Ramsey. Get the hell out of my house.”

“I still pay the bills. It’s my house, too.”

She laughed and finally broke eye contact. She turned back to the sink and ignored me. But I was too upset to let it end that easily. I needed to know who she was with, so I could kick his ass and tell him not to ever touch my wife again.

“Who was it?” I demanded.

She turned around and slapped me, all in one motion. It happened so quickly, I didn’t realize what she was doing until I felt the sting on my cheek.

I looked at her, ready to light into her, and saw tears running down her cheeks.

“I spent the night with Willow, you ass. I wasn’t with some random guy. I was with my sister. For the record, I have never once asked you about who you bring home at night. I have never once accused you of sleeping with someone else. You have your own place and you get to do whatever and whoever you want, and I don’t ask. So, you don’t get to come in here and accuse me of anything. You don’t get to judge me. You don’t get to say anything about the way I’m living my life since you walked out of it. Fuck you, Ramsey.”

Amber’s footsteps raced down the hall, and Melody pasted on a bright grin and pushed away from me. She swept Amber up and carried her into the living room. I heard them talking and laughing and playing, and I felt like an outsider. I wasn’t a part of their lives anymore. And I was just making it worse by being there.

I accused my wife of sleeping with someone. I made her feel like shit. All because I was jealous. Because I wanted her to be mine again. Because I couldn’t accept the fact that I let her go.

I didn’t deserve them. I never really had. So, I snuck out the back door like the fucking coward I was and vowed to give Melody what she needed. Space from me.