Andante, Andante: Please Don't Let Me Down

Chapter Eight

I tap my fingers impatiently against the corner of my phone, over and over again as I continue stealing glances over the screen at my wife. My so called wife who is sitting at the other end of the couch, lost in another world, consumed by her phone and technology.

I scoff to myself, but she either pretends she doesn't hear my annoyed grumble or she genuinely is too wrapped up in her work to pay any attention to me.

Technology and her phone are my biggest enemy in this marriage. She's too invested in what the screens in front of her has to offer to even notice me anymore. So, as the idiot I am, I decided to force a taste of her own medicine down her throat. I downloaded far too many books onto my phone and decided to bury my face in the glowing screen just as she always does.

I have come to realize that my revenge came back and bit me in the ass. Regina didn't even notice my neglect the least bit and it wasn't long before I found out that she actually was happy that I decided to take an interest in reading. She very specifically told me that now I can read and she can attend to her work and she doesn't have to feel guilty anymore.

I exhale very loudly again and watch as her eyes remain glued to the screen upon her lap. I gently place my phone down next to me and blatantly stare at my wife wondering how the hell we ended up here, sitting on a couch, ignoring each other, night after night.

I smirk to myself and slowly pop the button of my jeans, tearing away the denim from my flesh and forcing the zipper to drag down at a snail like pace. I glance up, excited to see Regina's reaction, but quickly frown when I discover she hasn't moved the slightest bit.

My hips buck off the couch as I shimmy my skinny jeans over my bottom, down my thighs and discard them on the floor beside me. I wait. I glare, my eyes almost burning with a searing hot pain for her to just glance my way, but she doesn't.

I furrow my brows and groan inwardly, furious that she doesn't even notice that I just removed my pants. My hand immediately falls to the inside of my cami where I pull out just one heavy breast. My eyes flick toward my wife, but her eyes are scanning over something while she anxiously nibbles at her thumbnail.

So, I wait...with my pants off and one tit hanging out. I wait and I wait until the clock ticking on the wall is blaring in my ears and my skin is crawling in disgust. I yank my tank top over my chest to cover myself back up and leap from the couch like a match was just lit beneath my bare ass.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I snap, finally grasping my wife's attention. Her eyes crawl toward my direction, but it's so painfully obvious that she doesn't want to actually look away from her laptop. Her head tilts to the side as her tired eyes meet mine and never once do they drift down to my exposed legs. "My pants are off...my boob was just hanging out and you still don't notice me?"

She blinks. I hold my breath. Her eyes slowly drift down and come to the realization that I'm half naked. My skin prickles from her intense gaze, but it's not a sensation I've been craving. No, instead it's a sickening feeling, like I actually want to smack her across the face for being so ignorant and now I don't even want her touching me anymore because I am that disgusted with our relationship.

"Sexy," she comments with a lazy smile.

"You're unbelievable," I gruff and snatch my jeans off the floor.

"Why are you so mad?" She asks as her eyes drift back toward her screen, expressing how she actually doesn't give a flying fuck what my reasoning is.

"Since you love working so much, why don't you spend the night at the office? Why bother even coming home," I snap as the color red seeps into my brain and fogs my vision. Rage vibrates in my blood and for once, I somehow caught her attention. Her eyes dart toward mine and all I see is danger in them.