Page 2 of Remnants
I make a noise of disgust at myself while looking in the mirror as I pull my fuller, soft jaw tight with my fingers. Why didn’t I lose the weight? I tried so hard and followed his ridiculous diet plan—not a single pound. Sighing, I walk from the large, very white bathroom, to the master bedroom. It’s a large room, complete with a giant walkout balcony. Against the wall opposite of the balcony is a huge decorative four-poster king bed, perfectly made and unslept in. James and I haven’t slept in bed together in nearly two years. This room is for show and to hold our clothes as I alternate between the guest room downstairs or the couch, and James will usually sleep in the basement on the nights he actually comes home.
I look at the tablet on the nightstand, reading the date. Only three more days and he will be off to his conference for an entire week. I hate the feeling of relief I feel at the thought of him being across the country. When James is gone, I get to wear my hair down. I get to pull out my sweatshirts that I hide with our wedding album because god knows he would never look there. Hell, I might even sneak a baked good or a sweet iced coffee while he is gone.
A smile forms on my lips at that thought as I walk into my closet and pull out my outfit for the day—a vintage inspired 1950s dress in a light blue with white polka dots. I grab my shapewear and begin the exhausting task of forcing my body into the undergarment before slipping on the god awful dress. I hate dressing this way. It isn’t practical or my style in the least. I prefer leggings or jeans, and I love sweatshirts with little puns on them. But I am James’ dutiful housewife, and these are the clothes I am expected to wear—my uniform. I slip on my low heelMary Janesin white and go back to the bathroom to begin applying my layers of makeup.
As I pass by my balcony door, movement causes me to stop. I turn and my heart stops at the sight outside.No, this can’t be happening.
I jerk open the french doors and step onto the balcony as I stare at the house across the street in shock. A moving truck has pulled up outside, but the truck isn’t what has my heart ramming against my ribcage, it is the massive, black dog that’s letting out excited barks as the movers carry boxes into the small house.
This street is a divided area. A developer had bought our side out and flattened it to make room for overpriced homes such as mine, while the other side refused to sell, so there are three bungalow homes that are rented out. James hates them and has tried on numerous occasions to buy the homes, but the owners refuse to sell.
Something else James hates—dogs. I love them, but have made peace with the fact that I could never have one for fear of it upsetting my husband. And now with every bark that dog lets out in playful glee as a large, heavyset man throws a tennis ball, I feel my anxiety climb higher and higher. James will take this out on me and eventually, the dog will mysteriously disappear.
Finally, they go inside and the barking subsides, allowing me to take a deep breath. As I release the cleansing breath, a tingle runs down my body. Opening my eyes, my gaze locks on a woman holding a moving box. Her very short hair is covered with a black bandana. She’s tan, in all black, and what skin isn’t covered in clothes is covered in tattoos, though from this distance, I have no idea what the designs are.
Her stare holds me frozen, save for the pounding of my heart. I hear a male voice call out. It must be her husband because she turns and starts walking away, giving me one last look as she slowly goes up the steps to the door. I furrow a brow noticing she’s limping. I–Is her husband like James?
I shake my head, ridding myself of that thought. I don’t want to think about having my dark secret in common with anyone else. As I go to walk inside, I look back at the house one last time.
Maybe I should make them a welcome plate.
Letting out a small nervous breath, I smooth out my dress—it’s already smooth. I would sooner die before walking outside in public without looking my best. After all, I’m representing James, and he requires perfection. I ring the doorbell of the small dark green house. The burnt orange stain of the door holds my attention. It’s such an odd color. In fact, the entire house is an odd mix of colors, but somehow they all tie together in a very warm, welcoming way.
I glance behind me toward my own house. Over the top, with light grey bricks, crisp white accents, towering pillars and cold metal balconies. A large statement piece—like the Mercedes, like what I’m supposed to be, though I’m failing miserably.
The front door opens, causing me to jump as the large man from earlier takes up the entire door frame. He’s covered in tattoos, black facial hair down to his massive chest, and a silver hoop in his nostril. He looks me up and down with his chestnut eyes and gives me the softest, kindest smile I’ve ever seen. It’s disorienting to say the least.
“Can I help you?” His voice is as uncharacteristic as his smile. I would assume a man of his size and stature would have a loud, dominating, boom of a voice, but his is soft and warm. It’s a calming, comforting sound. I blink a couple of times before holding out my dish.
“I umm… I saw your moving truck. I just wanted to welcome you and your wife to the neighborhood!” I feel heat rush to my face, instantly feeling stupid for invading their home. James would scold me for this if he were here. I am always doing things that make me look like an idiot. How am I a grown adult and I don’t know how to act in social situations. This is why he always tells me to stay quiet at parties.
The man’s grin widens and I see he has yellow-gold canine teeth.How peculiar.I want to ask him about them but I know it would be rude.
“Wow!” He laughs lightly. “Well, this is very sweet of you. Would you like to come in?” I go to say no, that I have a mess at home to clean up before errands, then working out, cooking dinner, and preparing for my husband's return. But the man steps back, holding my container and motioning for me to come in.
“My name is Mac,” he says while leading me into his quaint, dated kitchen. I go to introduce myself when I hear paws hitting the tile, and before I know it I am very nearly face to face with a black Great Dane.
“Sam…platz,” a feminine voice says as she walks in the kitchen. The dog sits down in front of me and cocks its head to one side, causing its ear to flop. I smile at the pup before looking up to see the woman again from the window. The feeling from before rushes through my body once more. I can’t figure out why I’m feeling like this toward her. I don’t know her, but the draw I have—it’s magnetic. I feel the heat burning my cheeks and have to quickly look away.
“Don’t worry, June. Sammy here is a big baby.” Her calm, low voice and playful wink sends a jolt straight to my core.
“J-June?” I ask softly while staring back at her, which might possibly be the biggest mistake ever because now I can’t pull my eyes off of her. She is several inches taller than my five-foot-sixinches, and seeing her now in a ribbed cropped tank top, I can’t help but notice how extremely fit she is. My eyes roam over her tattooed arms. Flowers, filigree, and a large raven covers her tanned skin. My eyes trail down her modest breasts to her belly button, nestled perfectly around her abs. My mind flashes to dipping my tongue into it.
What the fuck, Kaitlin?
“Yeah, you know.” I nearly choke on air as she brings me back to my senses. “That one mom from that TV show. You look like a 1950s housewife.” She makes a motion with her tattooed fingers up and down my body, gesturing to my dress. I feel my cheeks growing hotter as I suddenly feel naked.
“Nora.” Mac shoots the woman a glare, though it’s hard to find him intimidating with one of my pink frosted cupcakes in his hand. “Be nice, she brought us cupcakes.”
“Us? I am sure she brought them to the person living here, asshole.” I watch as the woman, Nora, limps to the man and snatches the container out of his hand, much to his disappointment. Relief fills me as I come to the conclusion that he’s not the reason for her limp. I would never speak to James that way for fear of a punishment. There’s no way this man has hurt her. Jealousy tries to rear its ugly head, but I won’t allow it. I refuse to be jealous of someone because they have a healthier relationship than I do with my husband.
I watch as Nora plucks a cupcake out and takes a bite. A little bit of the frosting stays on her lip and the image of me licking it off her mouth flashes into my brain.What on earth is wrong with me?
“Well, apparently I’m your husband so I am entitled to half,” Mac says, and instantly my stomach sinks. Nora looks up to me, then to Mac, and lets out the most unlady-like snort while rolling her dark eyes.
“Like I couldn’t do better than your ass.” She sticks her tongue out at the man before turning her attention back to me. “Mac is my older brother. He’s helping me move in here. And I use the term “helping” loosely. I’m your neighbor, Nora. And these cupcakes are fucking amazing, where did you get them?”
I laugh softly. “I’m glad you like them. It’s actually my own recipe. Strawberry buttercream frosted lemon cupcakes.” They both stare at me in shock for a moment.
