Our Little Secret (BWWM)

Part 1

I fucking hate dishes. Everything about them drives me absolutely crazy; the fact that every time you use one you can't use it again until it's cleaned, the fact that you can have a set for years and with one drop it's gone forever, and finally the fact that I have to clean them.

Every day is the same. Wake up, cook breakfast, make lunches, get the kids to school, come home and clean, plan dinner, pick up the kids, make dinner and have it ready by six when Dave gets home, and finally WASH DISHES, the bane of my existence. Of course my husband of seven years bitching and complaining about every little thing I do doesn't make my job any easier.

My friends told me I was crazy for marrying so young but at 20 I had stars in my eyes and buns in the oven. They told me I was even crazier for marrying a man ten years my senior but we were crazy about each other, key word being were.

At this point, seven years, a set of twins, and a bunch of bullshit later, we barely tolerate each other. I can't help but think maybe it was never real in the first place. I shake the thought away. It was real for me at least.

"Bring me a beer to my office I've got to get some paper work done," Dave orders, plopping his dish in the sink full of water.

It splashes up and hits me in my face, pissing me off even more. As if he couldn't ask or say please or better yet grab his own god damn beer before he left the kitchen. I grit my teeth and dry my hands and face off slowly.

"You have to do this for your children," I whisper to myself through gritted teeth.

It's true, if I leave Dave I'll lose everything including the children he helped create but hasn't helped me raise.

I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life when I met David James, big shot business exec, on my eighteenth birthday. He swept me off of my feet, convinced me not to go to college, that he would take care of me, and I've been a kept woman ever since.

I grab the cold Bud Light from the fridge and roll it against my hot forehead hoping to relieve myself of the headache I feel coming on.

"Aria where's my beer?" Dave yells suddenly, startling me and making me drop the bottle to the ground.

I brace myself to hear the glass shatter but it never does, God must be smiling on me. I bend over shakily and pick up the beer before I head upstairs to David. I've been doing all I can to avoid one of his vicious tongue lashings. The last thing I need tonight is to be told how stupid and useless I am.

I ease into the office and hand the beer to him with a shaky hand, silently hoping he'll be merciful. He snatches the beer from my hands and gets back to his work. I take that as my cue to leave.

Before I can make it out of the door I hear the hiss of the bottle being opened and a slew of curses from David.

"God damn it Aria! Can't you do anything right? This god damn beer bubbled over on my papers! You're such a fucking screw up! Get me a towel!"

I swallow back his harsh words and rush to the linen closet to grab a towel. By the time I'm back in the office the spilled bubbles have all but disappeared but I dab the desk with the towel anyway.

The doorbell rings and I freeze, I silently pray that it's not my best friend Nicole, if she sees me this shaken up like this she'll kill Dave.

"Well, don't just stand there go answer the damn door," Dave gripes, fanning me in the general direction.

I leave the towel on the desk and scurry off to answer the door, trying to calm myself on the way. I take a deep breath and open the door slowly.

"Hey Aria what's up?" Daniel, David's twin brother asks, letting himself in.