Page 101 of Burn Bag

“Honey, I can’t seem to change the thingy in the ceiling. I just don’t know what to do.”He raised an eyebrow at me. “She knows damn well that thingy in the ceiling is a smoke detector. And she knows how to fucking change it. She just doesn’t want to. But by playing fucking stupid, she gets her man to do the work for her.” He sighed, rubbing his hand across his jaw. “And the sad thing is, now that I’m divorced, I wish there was a woman who pretended not to know how to change the smoke detector. It’s a sad, lonely business when you’re all alone with no woman to please.”

Was I doomed to be him? Was I going to end up sad and alone because I argued with my wife too much over salad? Christ, I couldn’t have my marriage end at a grocery store. I would be the laughing stock of the company.

“It was nice talking to you.”

I rushed past him as he called out, “That trick works both ways!”

I didn’t want to decipher what that meant right now. Instead, I was on a mission to find my wife and ensure that she would never leave me because I was too stubborn to let her get the brand of food she liked.

When I found her, she was hauling yet another bag of litter off the highest shelf, about to flatten herself like a pancake. I rushed to her, but it was too late. The bag slid off another one and rushed at her like a waterfall, sending her flying backward.

I called out to her just as the bag flattened her to the floor. Only her arms and legs were visible underneath the gigantic bag. “Daphne!” I rushed over and grabbed the bag, tossing it aside as I stared down at my wife, eyes scanning for any apparent injuries.

“Are you okay?”

“Peachy,” she muttered. “I think I cut my lip.”

I grabbed her jaw as gently as I was capable of at the moment and studied her bruised lip. “The skin isn’t broken, but it’s red. Are you okay other than that?”

She nodded and started to push herself up, but I grabbed her elbow and did all the work for her.

“Jesus, you couldn’t fucking wait for me?” I snapped, anger surging through me. “You could have seriously hurt yourself!”

Instead of the snappy retort I thought she would shoot back at me, tears filled her eyes as she ducked her head. Fucking tears. Christ, I was a horrible husband.

I snagged her around the waist and pulled her against my chest, rubbing her back as she cried into my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. It just scared me.”

“You? A giant bag of litter almost killed me!”

“I know, and I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Fuck, I was really screwing this all up. “Can we make a deal from now on that we’ll shop together? You pick out the food and I’ll set it in the cart. No more of you shopping on your own.”

“I think shopping together is a terrible idea,” she mumbled into my arm. “All we do is fight.”

“Not anymore. I will keep my opinions to myself and let you pick out whatever you want. I will only take things off the shelf and set them in the cart.”

“That’s just silly. I can shop by myself.”

I stepped back and shot her a disbelieving look. “If I hadn’t been here, you would have been suffocated by cat litter. I’m not sure the doctor would believe me if I had to take you in again.”

Sighing, she thunked her head against my chest. “No one said marriage was going to be this hard.”

“No, they didn’t,” I agreed, rubbing my hands up and down her arms. “We’ll figure it out. It can’t be that hard.”

She snorted. “Said no one ever.”

“Seriously, it can’t be that bad. We’re just on a sharp learning curve. Things other couples have already figured out, we’re miles behind.”

“Lightyears,” she corrected. “I don’t even know your favorite food.”

“Steak,” I grinned. “When in doubt, always assume meat is my favorite.”

“And what about drinks?”

“Mostly water, but when I relax, beer does the trick. Anything harder and I won’t remember my name.”

“I already figured that out,” she smiled. “Condoms?”

I grimaced. “Hate ‘em. But I wear them.”

---