JENNIE's POV
Once upon a time, I'd loved my wife. Her beauty, her ambition, her intelligence. The wildflowers she'd plucked for me on her way home from a graveyard shift, and the gentle kisses she'd trailed over my shoulder when I stubbornly refused to heed my alarm clock.
But once upon a time was a long time ago, and now, as I watched her walk through the door for the first time in weeks, all I felt was a deep, dull ache in the places where love once resided.
"You're home early," I said, even though it was near midnight. "How was work?"
"Fine." Lisa shrugged out of her coat, revealing an immaculate black suit and crisp white shirt. Both custom-made, both costing upward of four fingers. Only the best for Lalisa Manoban, the so-called Queen of Wall street. "Work was work."
She gave me a perfunctory kiss on the lips. A familiar whiff of citrus and sandalwood brushed my senses and made my heart squeeze. She's worn the same perfume since I gifted it to her a decade ago during our first trip to Paris. I used to find the loyalty romantic, but the new cynic in me whispered it was only because she couldn't be bothered to find a new scent. She didn't care about anything that didn't make her money.
She flicked her eyes over the lipstick smudged wine glasses and remnants of Chinese takeout on the coffee table. Our housekeeper was on vacation, and I'd been in the middle of cleaning up when Lisa came home.
"Did you have the girls over?" she asked, sounding only marginally interested.
"Yup." My friends and I had celebrated a financial milestone for my small pressed flower business, which was nearing its two year anniversary, but I didn't bother sharing the accomplishment with Lisa. "We were supposed to go out for dinner, but we stayed in at the last minute instead."
"Oh. Sounds nice." Lisa had already moved on to her phone. She had a strict no-email policy, so she was probably checking the stock-markets.
A knot formed in my throat. She was still as breathtakingly beautiful as the first time I saw her in our college library. Dark black hair with bangs, beautiful almond-shaped brown eyes that are known for their expressive and captivating appearance, and lovely well-defined lips that I get to kiss almost every single day. It wasn't a face that smiled so easily, but I liked that about her. There was no fakeness; if she smiled, that's because she meant it.
Sometimes I wonder, when was the last time either of us had smiled at the other the way we used to?
When was the last time she touched me? Not for sex, but for casual affection.
The knot pulled tighter, restricting the flow of oxygen. I swallowed past it and forced my lips to curve upward. "Speaking of dinner, don't forget our trip this weekend. We have a Friday night reservation in DC."
"I won't." She tapped something important on her screen.
"Lisa." My voice firmed. "Seriously, It's important." I'd put up with dozens of missed dates, canceled trips and broken promises over the years, but our ten-year wedding anniversary was one of a kind. It was unmissable.
Lisa finally glanced up. "I won't forget. I promise." Something flickered in her eyes. "Ten years already. It's hard to believe."
"Yes." My cheeks might crack from the force of my smile. "It is." I hesitated, then added, "Are you hungry? I can heat up some food and you can tell me all about your day."
She had a bad habit of forgetting to eat when she was working. Knowing her, she hadn't touched anything except coffee since lunch. I used to visit her office and make sure she ate when she was starting out, but those visits stopped after Manoban Capital took off and she became too busy.
"No, I have some client things to take care of. I'll grab something later." She was back on her phone, her brow furrowed in a deep frown.
"But.." I thought you were done with work for the day. Isn't that why you're home?
I bit back my question. There was no use asking things I already knew the answer to. Lisa was never done with work it was the world's most demanding mistress.
"Don't wait up for me. I'll be in my office for a while." Her lips grazed my cheeks on her way past me. "Good night."
She was gone by the time I responded. "Good night." The words echoed in our palatial, empty, living room. It was the first night I'd been awake to see Lisa come home in weeks, and our conversation had ended before it really began. I blinked back an embarrassing sting of tears. So what if my wife felt like a stranger? I felt like a stranger to myself sometimes when I looked in the mirror.
At the end of the day, I was married to the richest most successful person on Wall street, I lived in a beautiful home most people would kill for, and I owned a small but thriving business doing what I loved, I had no good reason to cry.
Get it together.
I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and plucked the empty takeout boxes off the coffee table. By the time I finished cleaning up, the pressure behind my eyes had disappeared like it'd never been there at all.
