Page 25 of The Husband Contract
“Sweet, I’ll let her know,” Katherine replies. “And do you know what you want for breakfast yet?”
“I’ll think about it and let you know,” I say, and hang up.
I sit back down on the edge of the mattress, reach over to the coffee table, and grab the remote control. I turn on the TV to try and clear my mind; it flickers onto a news channel. I watch for several minutes, then change the channel. I have enough to deal with right now without worrying about world politics.
Three’s Companyis on the next channel. I stare at John Ritter as he flits around the living room, flirting with one of his roommates, and I smile. I watched this show a lot as a child with David, but I don’t want to think about the past now. I change the channel again. It’s a cartoon. I flick again. It’s a court TV show. I don’t often like watching them, but they’re humorous enough to make me smile when I have them on in the background. Though right now, I’m not interested. I get off the bed and pace back and forth in the room. I’m restless. I’m annoyed. I’m pissed off. And I hate all of those feelings.
I head into the bathroom and grab my toothbrush to brush my teeth before Willow gets here. I stare at my reflection in the sparkling-clean silver mirror. My chest is built, my muscles tight. There’s a smattering of dark hair across my pecs that runs down my stomach and stops right above my belly button. My boxers are white and seem to glow against the golden hue of my skin.
My hair is tousled, and I look into my eyes, dark and tired, but I don’t look as tired as I feel, maybe because the exhaustion that exists inside of me has been there for a long time. Years even.
I finish brushing my teeth, gargle warm water, and spit it out. I splash my face with cold water, grab a clean white towel, and dry off. I stand there looking at my reflection.
It looksabsolutely the same.
There’s a knock at the door. “It’s time to fake it.” I put on my best fake smile, relax my body, and head toward the door.
“Morning,” Willow says, her voice chipper and happy. Her eyes are slightly surprised as she observes me. They widen, and she blushes as she realizes I’m only wearing my boxers. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t?—”
“You can come in,” I say, stepping back, feeling devious.
“I just came to make the bed. Sorry, I thought you were already up.”
“I am up,” I say, grinning. “You can make the bed. Thank you.”
“Oh, sure. No worries.” She steps into my room. She’s wearing slim blue jeans and an oversized gray sweater that readsColumbia University.
“Did you go to Columbia?” I ask, surprised.
“Oh, no.” She looks down at her sweater and laughs. “I just got it at a thrift store. I didn’t go to college. I mean, I wanted to. I had the grades, but…” She pauses. “Anyway. Everything works out for a reason, right?”
“Certainly.” I look her up and down. Her lips are red today, and she licks them nervously as she stares at me. I notice my laptop is still sitting on the mattress, so I grab it, close it, and place it on the desk.
I head over to the armchair and sit, watching her.
She stares back. I realize my legs are spread, and I’m semi-hard.
“Sorry, is this awkward? I can come back,” she says quickly, heading toward the door.
“It’s not awkward. I’m not feeling awkward. Are you feeling awkward?”
“Who, me?” Her voice goes high, and she blushes red. “Of course not! Why would I be awkward?”
She looks down at my crotch, then back up at me. Hereyes are wide, her smile topsy-turvy. “I mean, you are just sitting there in your underwear, but I’ve seen plenty of men naked, so what’s one more?” She giggles nervously, and I’d bet a hundred dollars that she hasn’t seenplentyof men naked at all.
I’m surprised she actually addressed the elephant in the room. I would’ve bet fifty dollars she wouldn’t say anything about me being practically naked. Maybe she isn't as timid as I thought. I am having a hard time understanding who the real Willow is.
“I can put on some clothes if you want. If that makes you feel more comfortable.” I jump up, reach into my bag, pull out a T-shirt, and slip it on. “Is that better?”
“Yeah, sure.” She blinks. “Thank you.”
I grin and walk over to her. “How are you doing this morning, Willow?” I stop next to her and look into her eyes. Her lips are slightly parted, her nostrils flaring. I take a deep breath; she smells like peaches. I wonder if she tastes like peaches, as well.
She licks her lips. “Sorry, what did you say? I woke up really early this morning, and I spaced out a bit...”
“It’s okay,” I say softly. A wisp of her blonde hair falls in front of her face, and I reach over to tuck it behind her ear, my fingers gently grazing her neck. Her skin is soft.
“What are you doing?” She steps back and licks her lips nervously. She looks like an anxious doe in an early morning field, worried a hunter would catch her.
