Memories That Still Haunt Us

Chapter Forty-Three:

The evening turns to night, and I sit alone at the dining table, nearly done with the bottle of wine in front of me, as the dinner I prepared for Ellis sits on the stove, growing cold. I run my tongue along my gums, then stand from the table and put the settings on low to keep the food warm.

            I tilt my head back and swallow down the rest of the glass before pouring myself the rest of the bottle and tossing it into the trash bin. The house is quiet. I walk over to the TV and put on some jazz music to add some noise to the house.

            The sound of the front door opening makes my body jolt with excitement, and I hurry over to the stove to prepare the plates for us. Ella Fitzgerald plays on the TV, and I neatly stage the plates, making the food look nice. Ellis appears in the kitchen and drops his keys on the counter. "What are you doing?" He asks.

            I look over at him, and he looks more tired now than he did this morning. His curls are ruffled up, and the bags under his eyes have deepened. "I made us dinner. I figured you'd be hungry after your long day." Look at me. Such a housewife. Cooking for my man. I smile to myself as I carry our plates over to the table and set them down. I feel like I'm in the sixties. A stay-at-home wife while my husband works all day. Spending the day cleaning and cooking. I wouldn't mind doing that for Ellis. Making him happy and spending my days preparing for him to come home. Maybe this is what I'm good at. Caring for him and being a good wife.

            That's not very feminist, man hating of me. But like I said, I think I'd do anything for Ellis. Even making him my entire existence.

            He runs his hands through his hair, then washes his hands in the sink. "Thank you." He mumbles, then dabs his hand on the dish towel hanging off the dishwasher.

            I smile and watch as he takes a seat at the table across from me, his eyes not fully meeting mine since he's walked through the door. "How was work?" I ask.

            He moves his fork around the food. "Bloody awful." His eyes lift and they finally acknowledge me. Sweeping over my face, moving over my lips, and taking me in. "I'll be going in tomorrow too."

            "Oh." I frown. "Why?"

            "Beck isn't here. There's no reason for me to work from home." He goes back to looking at his food, and my teeth grind at his statement.

            I'm here. Am I not enough reason? He doesn't want to stay home with me? Suddenly I'm jealous of a six-year-old boy. We eat in silence, and my frustration grows. This is not how I imagined dinner going. When he's finished, I jump up and grab both our plates, moving them over to the sink.

            "You really don't need to do all this, Reign." Ellis says.

            Walking back over to him, I attempt to gain some control over the situation. To bring him back to me. This pathetic desperation to please him because the dinner didn't seem to work as I planned. I find myself on my knees before him at the table, looking up at him through my lashes, and asking him in an innocent, yet sexy voice that I want him to face fuck me. He chokes on his drink, eyes wide for a moment, then clears his throat as he looks down at me with a mixture of utter surprise and astonishment.

            "Okay." He says, amused.

            I want him to take his stress out on me. To channel his feelings toward me. I want to watch as he relaxes. To see any ounce of love show on his face as he looks down at me.

            He stands up from the chair and positions himself in front of me. I help undo his pants and pull them down with eagerness. The buildup makes warmth pool between my legs, and I see his demeanor slowly change into something of desire and anticipation. I wonder if he's ever done this with Millie. Probably not. I see her as a prude. Stuck up and close-minded.