Page 18 of Bad Husband

Guess which one I’m going to pick?

When I wake up in the morning on the couch, I’m sore. I remember exactlywhyI don’t like sleeping on the couch. It’s not at all comfortable and remember, I like my bed and more importantly my hot wife in it, both of which I don’t have this morning.

Before I open my eyes and remove the pillow over my head, I recall what Madison said to me last night.

I don’t love you.

Pushing my own ego and pain aside, I refuse to believe it’s the end. I have a plan. Not a good one, but it’s a plan nonetheless.

I’m going to make her fall back in love with me. Easy enough, right?

Let me clarify this before you tell me that should be easy. I’m attempting to do what every man forgets about once he lands the girl. If we knew we had to work harder once we were married to get some ass, a lot of men wouldn’t get married. Half the fun of being married is being able to have sex whenever you want, right?

I know what you’re thinking. How’d this go from making your wife fall in love with you to sex?

I’m a man, and I’m just being honest here. Everything leads back to sex. The ones who tell you it doesn’t are full of shit or are better men than me.

As I’m lying on the couch, my phone vibrating underneath me, I realize I’m more than likely running late this morning and that’s just not an option for me. Attempting to remove the pillow from my head, it’s more difficult than I expect. Mostly because someone is sitting on my head.

Raising my hands from my sides, I feel around to find two legs and two arms. Little ones, which means Noah’s sitting on my head, naked. Well, he’s got underwear on but still, mostly naked.

“Get up, bud.”

“Shhh,” he giggles, smacking my hands away. “Daddy sleep.”

Laughing, I sit up and reach out to catch him when he falls off my head and into my arms. “Gotcha.”

Noah doesn’t like to be held. Never has. Even when he was a baby, if you picked him up, he screamed. Unless it was Madison. He’d hang on her hip all day long every day and you know, I don’t blame him one bit. If I didn’t have to work, I’d like to hang out with my hands on those hips all day.

He slaps my hands again. “No touching Wolverine!” And then he growls at me, takes the GI Joe in his hand and stabs me in the ear with it.

Rattled and wondering if my eardrum has been ruptured, I grab my ear and throw a pillow from the couch at Noah as he runs away from me. “That wasn’t nice, Noah!”

Like he fucking cares.

Tenderly touching my ear to check for bleeding, I notice Callan staring at me curiously. “Did you sleep on the couch last night?”

Still trying to process what just happened to my ear, I don’t answer his question and ask, “Where’s your mom?”

He shrugs, midbite of his bowl of Captain Crunch he’s holding. “Work?”

“Don’t you have school this morning?” I glance down at my watch. It’s 6:45. I can’t believe she didn’t wake me up and tell me she was leaving, and another thing, who the hell is she massaging at 6:45 in the morning?

“Yeah, I have school. Mommy usually takes me.”

Digging my phone out from underneath me, I check my messages. None from Madison but three from Brantley asking how last night went. They were sent at like three in the morning, which means he was probably out at the bar. No surprise there.

Callan disappears inside the kitchen dressed in his school uniform while I text Madison.

Me: So I’m taking him to school? What do I do with Noah?

Remember yesterday when I called her fifty-three times, and she didn’t answer?

Guess who answers right away this time?

Yeah, Madison.

Probably because we’re dealing with the boys this time.

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