Mia Scott had been married to her husband for half a decade but as time goes on, love and desire dwindle farther and farther from her life.
Working at an advertising agency in Paris, she lands her biggest client to date, Chanel, when a devilishly ha...
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4:37 a.m.
The numbers on the clock glow in neon blue as I watch it switch another minute.
After Jimin walked me home, I took a long hot shower and did a little extra pampering to lift my mood and try to push away my thoughts. A few hours went by and there was still no word from Cameron. No matter how many times I texted him to make sure he was okay, there was no response or even indication that it was read.
I hear the knob on the front door twist and I sit up in bed both relieved that my husband is okay and worried at the possibility that it could be someone else entirely. However, when the distinct sound of his drunken groaning reaches my ears, I roll my eyes and lay back down.
Sure, I could curse at him for not responding to my texts or coming home late as hell under the influence but it would be an argument I've had plenty of times in the past and it got me nowhere. I'm tired. Physically and emotionally.
Not even attempting to be quiet, he barges into the bedroom, throwing his jacket and keys onto the chair while looking at his phone. The light illuminates his squinted eyes and disheveled hair before he peeks up at me watching him look like a complete jackass.
"Why are you up?" He questions calmly and without an attitude for once.
"Just woke up not too long before you got home," I respond as I take a deep breath, observing him getting ready to lay down for the night. Honestly, I'm just surprised he's at least not so drunk that he falls asleep in the middle of the floor fully clothed again.
And it's a shame that something so ridiculous is an improvement from the norm.
"I didn't think I'd see you when I got home. Figured you'd be sound asleep."
"Where were you?" I swallow as the words leave my lips. I'm not in the mood to start a fight but I am curious as to where my husband has been. "I tried texting you. I was worried."
"I just saw them. I was out with the guys at the bar. We lost track of time." Even though I'm bracing myself for an argument, he doesn't give me one.
Nodding, I decide to let it go for the night. He's still intoxicated so even if I voice that he shouldn't stay out all hours of the night without as much as a text, it would go in one ear and out of the other. I'll try to bring it up to him another time when I have a better chance of not wasting my breath.
Sliding into the bed next to me, he pulls me into his side and nuzzles his cheek against the top of my head. Normally, this kind of thing would make me swoon since physical touch is my love language but instead, I'm completely tense as I keep my eyes trained on the cloud slowly covering the moon outside of my bedroom window.
His index finger glides up and down my arm as I listen to the sound of him breathing while raindrops begin to slowly trickle down the window, casting a moving shadow onto everything around us.
