Started as His Wife (ON HIATUS)

Us Idiots

My alarm goes off, blaring right into my ear and causing my head to pop up. With crusted shut eyes, I grope around the top of the nightstand until I feel my phone. Blindly, I tap the top of the screen until it stops beeping. Flopping back down, I heave a deep breath to prepare for the excruciating effort of rolling out of bed. Finally prepared for the misery of leaving the comfort of my fluffy pillow and soft blanket, I start to roll over.

An arm extends out to stop me, pulling me back towards the center of the bed into Vincent's bare chest. 

"Don't leave," Vincent mumbles half asleep. 

"I wouldn't if I had a choice," I smile, looking up at his drooling mouth. 

"You do," he replies. 

"I can't be late today. I still have to wash the dishes from yesterday," I explain, trying to smooth Vincent's bed head. "And I still have to start baking."

"Don't. Just stay," Vincent insists again.

"I wouldn't be in this dilemma if you hadn't whined for me to come home early without cleaning up yesterday."

"I barely see you anymore," Vincent frowns. With his eyes still closed, he manages to find my forehead to place a kiss on it. 

My stomach sinks and the cavity fills with guilt. Vincent is right. 

We've been married for four months now and living together for six months. However, it feels like we see each other less and less each day.

With Vincent's new job, he works the basic 9 to 5 weekday job. On the other hand, I work everyday. I have to leave earlier than he does and get home later with so much to bake and clean. With so much free time home alone, Vincent has been cleaning the house spotless and sorted most of our stuff from the moving boxes, though we still have the spare room full of unopened wedding gifts. It's also Wilbur's and Charlotte's room, as we splurged and got them a larger tank, which the extra space allows for. 

"Can't you close the bakery a bit earlier? Isn't eight a bit too late?" Vincent asks. 

"I" I sigh. 

"Maybe hire a few more people," Vincent suggests. 

"I don't know..."

"I know you're used to doing everything by yourself, but it's okay to get help."

"I did. Luke runs the front of the shop nowadays, so I'm always in the back baking. Plus, he makes the drinks better than I do."

"But you're still baking ten different things each day by yourself."

"I'm fine," I deny, wiggling out of Vincent's arms. "I'll try to start washing the dishes before closing time today and go home a little earlier."

The sun was just starting to peek up by the time I reached the bakery. Inside, I begin to start on yesterday's mess of dirtied bowls and whisks before Luke arrives as well through the back door.

"You're extra early today," I greet. 

"Yep. Thought I'd try to be adult today," Luke smiles. Slipping to the front, he restocks the napkins and cups as usual before starting up the coffee machine. 

With a lot of time already wasted on washing up, I'm forced to spend more time drying the bowls instead of letting air dry as usual so I can start on a batch of cookies. I'm cubing the butter into chucks and whipping it when Luke, already finished with his tasks, comes inside to look. I continue my work, and after I'm done with the cookie dough, I notice Luke is still in the corner looking intently.