Page 41 of For Pleasure Or Worse

Behind the closed door a dust bunny had gathered in matted lint and shed hair and I frowned at how long I’d probably gone without noticing it, and how I would likely never gaze around a room again without thinking about how dirty I’d let it get. The corner of the ceiling was cobwebbed, the decorative circular mirror hanging over the hamper in the corner was smudged, and the light from the window hit it perfectly at this time of the day. When I blinked out of my self-reflecting daze and returned my focus to Mateo, he was already staring back at me.

“What did she say?”

My chin fell. “No, it’s nothing. I’m just feeling shitty about dinner again.”

“That wasn’t even your fault, that wasmyfault. If I hadn’t gone off the deep end everyone would have eaten your amazing dinner and there wouldn’t even be a doubt in your mind.” Hisfingers guided my head back up, but I still didn’t meet his eyes. “You’re not telling me something.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, gesturing to my bare boobs and our lewd bodies. “Can we just…get back to this? This is something I know I’m great at.”

Matty butted our foreheads together, invading my space. “Look at me, Tally.” It only took a glance for him to make my walls come crumbling down. He looked at me like the thoughts were written in my irises. “I know you.”

“I know.” I sighed.

“So?”

“The last thing I want to do is cause more of a rift between you and your parents,” I said reluctantly. “It’s not important.”

“If it’s important to you it’s important to me. Let me guess, she said something passive aggressive about housework? Went on a tangent about what she does for my dad?”

“It wasn’t exactly passive.”

Mateo’s brows jumped. “You’re kidding.”

“I wasn’t supposed to hear them talking. I came home this afternoon and they were whispering in the bedroom. Well, as much of a whisper as your mom can manage.”

“Which is a normal speaking voice,” Mateo said.

“Right, and it wasn’t that bad, it just got me thinking. That I’m young, and you were attracted to me based on appearance first, and that probably makes it easy to overlook the things you wouldn’t otherwise. But I won’t always have great tits, and my skin will definitely wrinkle. Plus I’ve pulled no less than five gray hairs out of my head in the last month. So when that all starts to happen, I also can’t cook like your mom, and I don’t pack you lunch every day like your mom, or fold the laundry the same way as your mom, or with nearly enough frequency as her.”

“Then it’s a damn good thing I don’t want to marry my fucking mom.” He pinched the bridge of his nose until the skinturned purple. “You’re not giving me any credit at all here, Tally. Do you think all you are to me is a warm body? Maybe the issue is actually your confidence in me as a husband and nothing to do with what someone might have said about the dirty dishes. Do you think I’d stop loving you over that?”

“Well, that’s pretty selfish.” I crossed my arms. “You were begging me to tell you what’s bothering me, even though I felt self-conscious about it because Iknowit’s dumb. I was vulnerable, looking for some reassurance, and you’ve gone and made it about you.”

“It’s notmaking it about me, itisabout me. If you think that if you gain a few pounds and grow a few stretch marks I’m going to start looking around at how good of a job you’re doing with your ‘wifely duties’, that is a direct reflection of how you view our relationship.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I countered, frustrated.

“Then explain it to me, Natalia.”

“Don’t call meNataliawhen we’re arguing. You’re not my father.”

Mateo’s head tilted and the corner of his lip tugged upward. “Well now that’s opening up a whole other can of worms.”

“That!” I yelped. “Thatis what I’m trying to say.”

He squinted. “I’m not seeing the point.” It’d been several minutes since we addressed that our bodies were still very much connected, and I was mildly impressed he hadn’t gone entirely limp noodle in the midst.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

“For fuck’s sake…” Mateo rolled his neck and his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Answer the question,” I pressed.

“That’s like fucking bestiality.”

My jaw unhinged. “Oh…my…god, Mateo. What am I, the Alaskan fucking bullworm?”

“No, that’s obviously not—” he backtracked, shaking his head.

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