Page 116 of The Rejected Wife

Priscilla offered to cook dinner, but I insisted on getting it catered tonight. I wanted to spend the night with us on the couch doing absolutely nothing. And if I’m secretly hoping Serene will eat the food and go to bed soon so I can steal a few hours with my wife alone, that doesn’t make me a bad father, does it?

The food arrived, and Priscilla busied herself plating it out in the kitchen. I suggested keeping a chef who’d come in on a daily basis to cook for us, but Priscilla refused. She prefers to do the cooking herself, and I help her out, too. Our domestic help is restricted to the cleaner and the gardener.

Other than that, I have my uncle Quentin’s security team monitoring the house. I have faith in him. And it seems to be working. So far, Lauren hasn’t contacted us or shown up, which I take as a good sign. Some instinct tells me, she’s not going to give up. She’s not going to wait patiently for us to contact her. She might try to find a way to meet Serene. But I shove that aside. That’s why I have the restraining order in place. I doubt she’s going to break that and jeopardize her chance of having a future relationship with Serene.

Ensconced in my living room with the television showing the game, my daughter next to me on the couch, and waiting for my wife to join us, I’ve never felt more content.

"Look that way." Serene steers my face so my chin points to the side. I manage to keep my eyes glued to the TV screen and the game in progress.

She’s taken it into her head to paint my face. Something I couldn’t say no to. It’s been nearly a month since we returned from Bali. Serene recovered quickly from her ordeal. The bandages and stitches came off within a week.

Within the next day, she was on her feet and insisting she wanted to go to the playground. She’s also wanted to go swimming, which is a relief. It means her ordeal hasn’t put her off from using the swimming pool.

Connor, who returned home after his last research trip, decided to stick around and help me out. For now. My other brothers, Nathan and Knox, have pitched in, too. Brody offered, but I refused his help. That man’s a workaholic. He already works eighteen-hour days, I wasn’t going to ask him to spend more time behind a desk. Nathan and Knox have a better work-life balance, being married. And they know when to switch off so they can have a life outside of work. As for Connor, I know it won’t be long before he heads off on another of his mysterious trips, which he seems to relish.

I’ve spent every free second possible with Serene. Priscilla, too, has devoted herself to her. The result? Serene had made a full recovery. Except for the scar on her forehead, which will fade with time—I hope. She hasn’t mentioned the incident to us. By mutual agreement, Priscilla and I haven’t brought it up with Serene either. At some point, we’ll have to decide how to introduce Lauren to Serene, but that won't happen for a few more months, at least. Not until Serene is completely recovered. Meanwhile, I’ve increased security around the house and ensured Serene and Priscilla don’t go anywhere without someone watching over them.

"Papa, close your eyes." Serene frowns.

"I’ll miss the football," I protest.

"Pl-e-a-s-e," she begs me.

Of course, I oblige her. She begins to paint under my eyes, and I have a feeling I’m not going to like how I look when I open them. But I can’t refuse this girl. Or my wife. I love both of them so very much. Only Serene tells me so; Cilla still hasn’t. I thought it wouldn’t be long before she shared her feelings for me. But it’s been weeks since I first told her, and she hasn’t ventured there yet.

If anything, we’re closer as husband, as wife, and as a family. Since we returned, I’ve made love to her every night after Serene is asleep. The intensity of emotions I feel every time I fuck her has only grown. I’ve told her I love her when I’m inside her, hoping she’ll tell me what I want to hear in the heat of passion. I swear, she’s even come close to saying it to me, but so far, it hasn’t actually happened. Still, I don’t give up hope.

It’s only a matter of time. I’ll wear her down. She does love me. I can feel it in the absolute harmony there is between us, in this feeling of what I can only call bliss every time I come inside her. If only she’d say those words to me.

The football commentator’s voice rises in excitement. The cheering of the crowds reaches me.It’s a goal.I groan. Damn, I missed seeing that.

Serene stops painting. I sense her shift on the couch. "Can I open my eyes?"

"No," she yelps. The couch dips as she steps back to the other side of me, then she touches my cheek. I realize she’s pasting something on my face. I grimace, but don’t protest. It’s fine. I can wash it off, right? A few more minutes of this, then she moves to my hair. Grabbing at the short strands, she bunches them, then uses a band to tie them together. Her fingers get caught in the strands, and when she tugs on them, I wince but don’t move.

I still have my eyes closed, but I hear footsteps approaching and realize Cilla is walking toward us. Then I hear her giggling. "Oh, my God, you look—" She seems to have difficulty forming the words. "You look adorable."

I sigh again. Not the kind of word I want associated with me. But if it makes my daughter and my wife happy, I guess, I can put up with it. For a little while.

"Can I open my eyes now?" I ask Serene.

She touches up something on my chin, then jumps off the sofa. "Okay."

I open my eyes, snapping my gaze on the television, but the game is already over. I sigh, switch it off, then grab my phone, open the camera app, and look at myself. My face is a blur of colors—yellow around my eyes, blue on my cheeks, and the tip of my nose is painted purple. My lips have been painted a bright red, and there’s more of it on my chin. Various stickers featuring different kinds of fruit are stuck to my face. And the band around my hair has a pink flower stuck to it. "I look?—"

"So cute!" My wife clasps her hands together. "I need to take a photo." She pulls out her camera and points it at me. I grab Serene, and she shrieks and wriggles in my arms. I hold her close, then press my cheek to hers.

She shrieks, "Ugh, Papa, you’re making my face dirty!"

I stare at her, dumbfounded. "Why you little?—"

She giggles and squirms in my hold, then kisses my cheek.Awww.My fingers loosen, and she darts free, jumps down, and races to her mother, hiding behind a laughing Cilla. "You can’t catch me,na—nana—na-na." She sticks her tongue out at me.

When I rise to my feet and stalk toward them, she yelps and grabs hold of Cilla’s blouse, plastering herself to her mother, as if that’s going to hide her from me. I reach them, swipe out my hand, but she evades me. Giggling madly, she releases Cilla and makes a run for it. But I’m faster. I snatch her up, and she shrieks again.

I hold Serene over my shoulder, and she begins to giggle even more. Her entire body shakes so much with laughter, it’s infectious. And I find myself grinning at Cilla, who’s doubled over chuckling to herself. Very aware that Serene’s only recently recovered from her injury, I slowly lower her to her feet.

She instantly darts away and through the open door into the garden. "You can’t catch me," she yells over her shoulder. Her footsteps recede.

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