Page 69 of Trophy
Right now, though, he was exhausted, and he really needed to go to sleep.
Allison didn’t say anything else, and Rob was immensely relieved that he could finally close his eyes.
23
The next afternoonAllison walked into Rob’s kitchen to grab some more beers.
Rob had Keith and Mitch over to watch a game on TV. Normally Allison would have been perfectly happy to let him have his guy time while she did her own thing at her house. She was feeling a little uncomfortable after last night, so she would have liked to spend a few hours making jewelry, something that calmed her and made her happy.
But Rob had seemed to really want her to stay, so she’d agreed.
She brought the beers back into living room, which was slightly neater than usual, since Rob had picked up a big pile of stuff before the other men had arrived and dumped it on the floor of the coat closet.
“Thanks, hon,” Mitch told her, accepting the beer she offered him.
Keith just mumbled something incoherent.
She smiled as she handed Rob his beer and was surprised when he reached out to draw her onto the recliner with him.
“You don’t have to bring us stuff,” he said, brushing a kiss against her hair after he’d settled her beside him.
“I don’t mind.”
“Well, you’ve done enough, so just relax and watch the game.”
Allison had no real interest in baseball, but at least she understood it better than football, and it wasn’t like all the action came to an abrupt halt every few seconds. She nestled against Rob’s nice, solid body, enjoying the feel of his arm around her, and focused on the television screen.
She knew Rob still felt bad about the night before. She knew he was trying to be extra sweet today to make up for it. She wasn’t angry, but she was really upset—mostly with herself.
She’d been surprised and hurt when Rob left her last night, but she hadn’t confronted him about it. She’d wanted to, but she’d sensed some sort of block in him. She’d been sure if she pushed him any further, he would close down on her completely.
She hadn’t wanted that to happen. She’d been afraid of losing him. She’d felt guilty because it still bothered him that it had taken her so long to make their relationship public. She’d gone into panic mode at the thought of life without him. So she hadn’t done what she really knew she should have done.
Even now that she’d had time to think it through and realize she’d been wrong to cave the way she had, she couldn’t make herself bring it up. It didn’t feel like the right time. It seemed like her chance to address his behavior had passed.
She had no idea what she should do, but she just didn’t feel right about the whole thing.
A half hour later Allison tried to pull out of Rob’s arm, but he wouldn’t let her. “Don’t go,” he murmured a little thickly. He was looking down at her face, reading her expression.
“I need to go to the bathroom, and Mitch needs another beer.”
“He can get his own. You don’t have to wait on my friends.”
They were both speaking very softly to keep the conversation private. She smiled at him. He was really very sweet at heart. Maybe she was making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe it was just her lingering insecurities that were making her so uncertain. “I really don’t mind occasionally—just to be nice.”
“You’re plenty nice. You need to relax and enjoy yourself sometimes.”
Since he was clearly trying to think of her, she didn’t mention that watching sports wasn’t her ideal way to enjoy herself. She stretched up to give him a soft kiss. “I really do need to go to the bathroom.”
“Hey,” Keith called out, without turning away from the TV, “none of that mushy stuff during the game.”
Allison chuckled and finally pulled out of Rob’s arm.
She went to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands. Her hair was braided, and she wore one of Rob’s T-shirts and a pair of leggings. She had no makeup on, and she wasn’t wearing shoes.
She didn’t look anything—not anything—like the woman who had walked out on Arthur a year and three months ago.
She wondered if she’d changed as much inside. Or if, despite her altered appearance, she was still a trophy wife at heart. Not quite so young. Not quite so gorgeous. But still vulnerable and dependent deep down—as Arthur had always insisted.
