Page 11 of The Wife
So when he asked me if I wanted to sit at the table with Chrissy and some of the other girls from school, I shook my head and we went to the bar instead.
I’d had my first beer, hated it. Now my first glass of wine, loving it and Jake was sipping on his beer.
“This is fun,” I said.
“Yeah. I knew hanging with you at Pete’s would be a trip.”
“You want to play pool?”
Jake’s eyes shot up. “You can play pool?”
No. But how hard could it be? You poked at the balls with a stick. I was fairly certain I could do that. “Sure.”
“Okay. What are we betting?”
“Wait, there are stakes in this?” I asked. This could be interesting.
“It’s the only way to make it fun.”
I ran through several scenarios in my head.
If I won, Jake had to have sex with me.
If I lost, I would have to have sex with Jake.
I was fairly certain he wouldn’t go for it.
I shook my head. “You decide.”
“Loser has to grocery shop for a month.”
Typical Jake. There was no sex in any of that. I huffed. “Fine. But if I lose, I’m buying everything you hate. Vegetables. Lots and lots of vegetables.”
“I don’t care. I still won’t be doing the shopping. Let’s go.”
He led me to the back of the bar where the pool table was. He put a dollar of quarters on the table and after the last group finished we were up. He allowed me to break, which I did and actually got one ball in. It was solid, so he was stripes. My second attempt was not so great, and then Jake took over and cleared the entire table.
Snickering… because there was no other word for it… the entire time.
Apparently Jake was good at pool. Sometimes it freaking seemed like Jake was good at everything.
And he was my husband. Mine.
“Best two out of three?” he offered.
“No thanks. You’ll have me doing the shopping, cooking, cleaning, and laundry. Not a chance.”
He laughed. “You want another glass of wine?”
“I can have one?”
“Yes, you can have one.”
“Then yes, my dear husband, I would love another glass of wine.”
“You’re a goof,” he said as he brushed by me, but I knew it was a compliment.
I was distracted by rolling the ball along the felt when I could feel someone approaching. I looked up to see Bobby MacPherson standing in front of me, and it probably showed on my face that I wasn’t thrilled to run into him because he started by raising his two hands in the air as a surrender.
