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“Exactly my point. I’m allergic to eggs, Ridley.”
“I meantnoteggs,” I say, trying to backtrack. I knew she was allergic to eggs but it was the first thing to come to mind, and I panicked. I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m not even sure I’m making any sense.
I’m not entirely sure what to do or say next because there’s certainly some truth to her words I hadn’t seen until now. So I take my shirt off and throw it on the floor, intending on getting into bed completely naked. I don’t take my shorts off just yet; instead, I raise my brows suggestively and flop myself on the bed. She’s flustered, and I’m high-fiving myself. “How about I show you just how much I know you?”
Madison loves to be controlled in bed. What woman doesn’t from time to time? They want you to treat them like a fucking lady but every now and then, they want you to grab a fist full of their hair and pull it like you fucking mean it. I’m ready to do that if it means she’ll forget all about this divorce bullshit.
Still avoiding eye contact, she grimaces slightly and stands near the bathroom door. “You’re not sleeping in the room with me. Go sleep on the couch.”
I knew that was coming.
Before she’s out the door and into the bathroom, my voice stops her. “Mad?”
She turns to me, her eyes questioning.
I point to myself. “I’m not giving up.”
Then she meets my gaze full on. I don’t smile because part of me knows what she’s about to say. It’s written on her face long before the words are spoken. “Ridley… Didn’t you hear anything I said?” Her eyes drop, leaving me with inexplicable emptiness. “I don’t….” she pauses and then continues, her tone sinking as I listen with rising dismay, “love you anymore.”
Fuck, that stings. Way to curb stomp my heart. I really wish you wouldn’t have heard that part. Look away next time. Save me some fucking dignity already.
My jaw tenses, my grip on the pillow tightening. “Did you ever love me?”
She lifts her chin, meeting my icy gaze straight on. “Pre-business owning Ridley, yes, but I don’t know this guy in front of me… anymore.”
I clench my jaw tighter before saying, “I suppose that’s all I needed to know. Good night, Madison.”
Just like that, Madison Cooper has me at her mercy, but I tend to think she doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about. How is it possible for her not to love me anymore?
It’s not. At least not in my eyes. Remember that college professor who gave me the C? Ask him how determined I am.
So the way I see it, I have a few options. I can give her the divorce. I can tell her no and string this out with lawyers and make her life miserable, or, I can make her fall back in love with me.
Guess which one I’m going to pick?
Six
Game Plan
When I wakeup in the morning on the couch, I’m sore. I remember exactlywhyI don’t like sleeping on the couch. It’s not at all comfortable and remember, I like my bed and more importantly my hot wife in it, both of which I don’t have this morning.
Before I open my eyes and remove the pillow over my head, I recall what Madison said to me last night.
I don’t love you.
Pushing my own ego and pain aside, I refuse to believe it’s the end. I have a plan. Not a good one, but it’s a plan nonetheless.
I’m going to make her fall back in love with me. Easy enough, right?
Let me clarify this before you tell me that should be easy. I’m attempting to do what every man forgets about once he lands the girl. If we knew we had to work harder once we were married to get some ass, a lot of men wouldn’t get married. Half the fun of being married is being able to have sex whenever you want, right?
I know what you’re thinking. How’d this go from making your wife fall in love with you to sex?
I’m a man, and I’m just being honest here. Everything leads back to sex. The ones who tell you it doesn’t are full of shit or are better men than me.
As I’m lying on the couch, my phone vibrating underneath me, I realize I’m more than likely running late this morning and that’s just not an option for me. Attempting to remove the pillow from my head, it’s more difficult than I expect. Mostly because someone is sitting on my head.
Raising my hands from my sides, I feel around to find two legs and two arms. Little ones, which means Noah’s sitting on my head, naked. Well, he’s got underwear on but still, mostly naked.