Page 139 of Dirty Husband

"Yes." I reach for a visual aide, but my cup is long gone. The flight attendant took it the second I finished. She's exactly like I used to be. Everywhere and nowhere at once. Only visible when people want to see her.

"I have something for you," he says.

"Is it appropriate?"

Shep's wicked smile lights up his blue eyes. It's that beautiful, dirtyI don't know what I'm going to do to you, princess. Then it's more. Something deeper.

Or maybe I'm imagining things. Oxygen deprivation. Tea deprivation. Inability to think because of the proximity of Shep… syndrome. If that's a syndrome.

He's not wearing a suit today. He's in jeans and a navy t-shirt.

Jeans.

I haven't seen Shep in jeans in years. We went to private school. We wore uniforms. He only donned jeans on the weekends, but it was all he donned.

And now—

Shepwearshis suit. How can he look just as good in casual attire? It's not fair. It's wrong.

But I guess it's in my favor. So I can't really complain.

He undoes his seatbelt. Stands. Reaches for something in the overhead compartment.

His shirt goes with his arms, revealing inches of taught skin. Abs. The perfect v. The soft hairs that disappear beneath denim.

It's the jeans. They're mixing me up. Turning me into a sex maniac.

Or maybe I'm just a sex maniac now.

We sleep in separate rooms. And we've been busy. He's been busy with work or world domination or whatever he does when he's at the office.

I've kept busy too. With my family, acting classes, evenings watching movies.

It's been days since he's touched me.

Four days.

Four days without his cock and I'm ready to join the mile high club.

I'm so far beyond insane.

His shirt falls as he lowers his arms. He holds out something, presenting it to me.

A box of tea. Bags of milk oolong. Not the one I requested from Key. A new tin.

My fingers brush his as I take the tea. It's such a small thing. It shouldn't mean so much. But it does.

He's trying to meet me halfway. In his way.

"Thank you." My stomach flutters. It's like I'm a teenager again. Like I'm waiting for him to kiss me for the first time.

"Should I ask for hot water?"

I nod then immediately regret it. I don't want the flight attendant here. Even if she knows how to be invisible.

I don't want the reminder of how things used to be. How things will be for me again if this doesn't work out. I'm not naïve. I'm twenty-four and I'm not white. Even if I gain talent fast, I'm not going to have a lot of options.

The world sees me as the help.