Mr Reluctant Billionaire || BWWM

Forty-five

The awkwardness at home is impregnable, the tension so thick it stifles. I don’t know what I hope to achieve with my recent attitude but I am tired of being vulnerable and alone in love. Telling my best friend this doesn’t shield me from her hostility or the cold glare she levels at me, I shrink under her gaze, swallow and grip the steering wheel.

“Is this a joke?” Clarissa asks for the third time since she got into the car, I purse my lips and shake my head slowly. In a heavily accentuated voice, she adds, “Are you mad?”

“It’s just hair,” I reply and pat my short, black hair with gold streaks. “It will grow back.”

Coiffed at the back with a pixie cut in front that sometimes falls into my eyes, I have to admit, the new hairstyle looks good on me. I take a long peek at myself in the rearview mirror, flash my reflection a smile much to Clarissa’s horror and make a peace sign.

My brown eyes crinkle at the corners from trying to maintain the smile on my lips, I wiggle my trimmed eyebrows, keeping my gaze on the mirror to delay the inevitable.

“El. Elna, are you having a breakdown?” she asks. “I don’t understand, what’s going on?”

Taking a deep breath, I fold my hands on my legs and shake my head with a practised smile. Nothing is confusing about this. She thought Brandon’s haircut looked good on him, I think mine looks good on me. Plus, her surprise will wear out soon, it’s just hair. I roll down the window, letting out the suffocating air and she looks out the other side.

Today, her hair is in bra length pigtail braids and I would have teased her about it if she wasn’t so upset. I smoothen my monochrome Palazzo with a tiny smile curving my lips, Brandon had watched like a hawk while I dressed. He doesn’t leave the house until I am dressed and ready to go, like he is afraid I will repeat the stunt I pulled ten days ago.

The stunt that has turned us into mini strangers. It is hard living with someone I don’t want to talk to or see, especially if the person is my husband. But we cuddle and act all shocked when we wake in each other’s arms, then go the whole day without a word to ourselves except the usual greetings I always respond to half-heartedly. I don’t like him.

After sulking for a day, he had come around but I wasn’t ready, I don’t know if I am now. I didn’t step out in the maxi dress but he didn’t know that. Maybe he does but chose not to mention it. After all, he is good at keeping things from me. What’s his issue with Josh?

Clarissa is still looking out the window when I raise my head, I rub my hands over my knees. Calling her name is futile, my eyes twitch when she refuses to turn in my direction. I am horny, sexually starved, I don’t need her silent treatment. The horniness might explain my frequent mood swings, I need his touch but I am still upset with him.

“But you liked Brandon’s haircut,” I finally say.

Shoving her hands into her pockets, she lets out a derisive laugh without meeting my gaze. “Is that what this is about?” Her head snaps in my direction. “Revenge?”

There’s no point arguing or denying it, I tug on the hem of my shirt and say, “Kinda.”

Her disappointment is palpable, my eyes refuse to leave my outfit and I trace the lines on my blouse. If she hadn’t brought up the idea of punishing him, I might have forgiven him long ago. Gripped by a sudden feeling of loneliness, I bite the insides of my cheeks.

I miss him.

A click shatters the silence, the sound of the door opening. Clarissa steps out, her head pokes into the car, her smile is forced. She drawls out the words, “I am going home.”