Page 6 of The Marriage Rebound

“Come on,” I said as I removed the baby gate. He darted forward, then ran back, barking more as if he was demanding I hurry up. “I’m comin’, damn. You way too bossy for someone that don’t pay no damn bills.” I scrubbed my hands down my face, and damn near tripped over him as he again ran back, nipping around my ankles. “Fuck. Vuitton, stop.”

He recoiled back from my scolding, whimpering a little, and I instantly felt guilty. I knew he probably had to go since Sasha normally dealt with him, waking up early to take him out, but he needed to calm his ass down. Though, I guess I should be grateful he’d held it and not pissed in the house. Potty training him had been an ordeal.

No sooner than the back door was open, he squeezed his tiny behind through the small crack and darted out. I leaned against the doorframe, watching him. For him to have been in such a rush moments ago—now his ass was indecisive about where he wanted to do his business, wandering around the small space, sniffing for just the right spot to make smell like pee.

When we’d first gotten him, Sasha had wanted him to sleep in our bed, but I’d shut that down, so she’d started bringing him back to our room in the mornings as a “compromise” I didn’t think it was worth fighting her over. Finally, he finished up, did a few rolls around the small patch of grass before giving his body a shake and trotting back to me.

“You good?”

He plopped down by my feet. I sighed as I bent to pick him up and close the door. After cleaning him off with the wet wipes we kept by the door, I carried him inside to feed him since it was nearing ten. I went over to the mini fridge where we kept his food, which of course couldn’t be standard kibble. No, Sasha ordered some organic pre-packed meals that included vitamins and minerals and other “must-have things for a long and happy life.” Or so I was told when she was selling me on why we needed to spend damn near a hundred dollars per month on it.

Small dog should have equaled small costs, but per usual, the joke was on me. From the food, to the bi-weekly grooming, to the outfit selections that damn near rivaled Sasha’s, all I could do was shake my head anytime I had to go in the guest room closet. My hope that he’d ease some of my pressures had backfired in expensive spectacular fashion.

After getting him settled, I made a cup of coffee then let out a groan when I remembered I’d left my phone upstairs . . . in the bedroom. Not that I wanted to avoid her; it was simply too early if she was still on one from last night.

I massaged my temples, imagining how much last-minute, cross-country, first-class flights were going to cost. My stomach ached a little just at the thought. But she was right, this was a special circumstance. Maybe I could talk her down to business class at least. Vuitton was on my heels as I headed to the master, probably eager to get his snuggles from his preferred human. He basically tolerated me as much as I did him.

The water was running when I entered the room. So, she was up . . .

Vuitton ran over to the bed, jumping in vain, attempting to see if his owner was there. Leaning down, I scooped him up, plopping him onto the bed. I debated grabbing my phone and going back downstairs, but instead decided to head it off directly, especially after walking out on her last night.

Sasha eyed me when I entered the bathroom. No smile, no good morning. Instead, I was greeted with her annoyance before she turned her back to me to continue her shower. She was still mad. Not that I truly expected different, because Sasha could hold a grudge, but I had hope that just once she’d see things from my point of view. Everything I did, every decision I made was for us, our future. I wouldn’t be able to ball forever so I needed us, and my sister, taken care of.

I rolled my neck and released a long sigh. “What time is your flight?”

She shut the water off and I rested back against the counter-top, admiring her sexy form even if she was pissed at me. Especially since these days that seemed to be her default state. Droplets of water ran down her body, and I followed the path of one between the valley of her breasts before it disappeared beneath the towel she wrapped herself in.

“What flight? I wouldn’t want us to end up homeless because I wanted to be a good wife and support my spouse.” The sarcasm that dripped from each syllable she spoke grated on me and I had to bite back an instant retort.

I groaned and let my head fall forward. Why hadn’t I just gotten my phone and gone back downstairs? “Sash . . . don’t be like that. You know it’s not that I don’t want you there, but something has to give at some point. A compromise . . . economy?”

She huffed a hard laugh, but said nothing as she started on her face care routine. Our eyes briefly met in the mirror before she returned her attention to her reflection. I nodded slightly, recognizing her mood for what it was. It was best to let her go through her cycle of emotions rather than attempt to engage more.

Vuitton was curled up in the center of the bed, having made himself a nest of the covers. He didn’t even look up when I reentered the room. I grabbed my phone then dipped out. She’d calm down and we’d get back to normal.

That was how these things went.

We had the highs. Then the lows. Life was a constant roller coaster. But that was what kept things interesting. Or at least that was what I kept telling myself.

Half an hour later Sasha strolled into the kitchen with her loyal companion at her heels. She barely glanced in my direction as I sat at the island, finishing off my cereal. I drained the milk from the bowl as she went about coaxing him to eat since he usually wouldn’t if she wasn’t nearby. I thought she babied him too much, but caring for him seemed to make her happy. And I counted that as a win since I needed all the wins I could get with her, especially as of late.

I slid off the stool and carried my bowl to the sink to rinse. “I’m gonna shower, then we can go.”

She strolled to the sink to wash her hands before moving on to the fridge to grab the OJ. “Go where?”

I swallowed down a sigh at the detachment in her voice and said nothing as I watched her prepare a mimosa with an eighty/twenty champagne-to-orange-juice ratio. No breakfast. Not even a muffin, or hell, a basic cup of coffee. But I kept my objection to myself. No fuel needed to be added to her simmering anger.

“I have to be at the arena by twelve.”

Sasha rested against the counter and took a long pull from her glass, smacking her lips for good measure. “You have to be at the arena. That ain’t got shit to do with me.”

I blew out a long breath through my nose, nodding my head slowly. “Okay, okay. It’s cool.” I tapped the counter with my fist twice, lingering for a few seconds. Sasha drained the rest of her drink and immediately made another. I didn’t have the energy. With another long exhale, I headed up to our room.

Under the water, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the heated spray hitting my skin. My shoulders were tight, and a dull throb of tension pulsated in my head. Home was supposed to be where you relaxed and found peace. Sleeping in, being able to relax and watch my reality dating shows while talking crap about how ridiculous it all is. Or better yet, do nothing. What I wouldn’t give to have zero expectations of me. I wanted that. I needed that.

It was to a point when remembering the good times was becoming harder and harder. Why couldn’t Sasha see and understand I was working my ass off to give her the lifestyle she wanted? But nothing ever seemed to be enough, and any “no” from me was always taken as a personal affront. It’s not like I enjoyed disappointing her. I wanted nothing more than to give her the world, but I could only do so much.

On top of that, Sasha knew I was responsible for making sure Mya had what she needed to continue to thrive at college because our parents sure as fuck couldn’t be bothered. Hell, I’d be surprised if they even remembered which school she attended since I’d been the one to fill out all the financial forms. It was all on me, and wanting a little fucking acknowledgment and appreciation for everything I did wasn’t a lot to ask for. Yet I was always the one in the wrong when all I was trying to do was make sure we survived.