I have had a wonderful vacation week! Filled with friends and family, the loved ones whom I cherish and adore.
But very importantly, it was a wonderful week for my marriage. For re-charging our collective battery. Re-igniting and stoking to a blaze all the fire and passion that is always smoldering just below the surface, banked down, burning low and waiting for the opportunity, the oxygen, and the space to roar to life and heat us up and leave us toasty and content.
Our sex life is never lacking, almost never (with the exception of illness or extreme fatigue), but there's something so wonderful about not having to make time for the act, you know? We always manage spontaneity--the reach-around in the kitchen whilst preparing dinner, the blow-job whilst checking one's e-mail, the hearty groping whenever the other passes by, the quick pounding when I've bent over to get something, the soapy fodling in the shower, all that. Like I've said before, there isn't a day, not a single day that passes where that man's assets aren't in my hands or on my lips. Or where my assets don't get caressed, kissed, and petted. No time crunch seems to douse our need to fondle, stroke, cuddle, and pleasure, even if we're too tired to do everything, we engage in intimacy daily.
But this vacation week afforded us time to ourselves that we haven't been able to enjoy in so, so long. I'm not even sure our chirstmas break was as rewarding-- mostly because this time around our Roomate was out of the house alot more often. We had enormously fulfilling sessions, (ENORMOUSLY) and when we weren't doing that we were really enjoying watching tv shows together, reading together, having long, deep, often hilarious, frequently stimulating conversations, cooking together, eating together, playing games together, visiting friends and family together, cleaning together, hosting friends and family together, shopping together, playing together, and just plain lounging around together.
It was one of my fondest staycations thus far. We were patient with one another, considerate, kind, friendly, warm, welcoming, encouraging, supportive, appreciative, and worshiping. We laughed, as we always do, but deeper, fuller and longer. We seemed to hold eachother closer, kiss more deeply, snuggle more contentedly.
I love being married to my best friend. To the person who really knows me, and fulfills me, and makes me feel like my best self even when I'm my absolute worst self.
I was plagued by self-doubt, by insecurities that have cropped up due to all kinds of complicated issues, I was a ship at see without bearings, storm-tossed, ragged, hopeless, afraid. He was there, as he ever is, with strong arms and an even stronger heart. He was there with wisdom that cut through my bullshit, with advice that resonated, and guidance that helps me be the best me possible.
He is, as he ever was, and ever shall be, my love, my life, my friend, my partner, my lover, my mentor, my dearest companion. Generous, patient, thoughtful, supportive, warm, open, deep, steadfast, delicious, dedicated, innovative, witty, wonderful, inspirational, beautiful, perfect. I am a very lucky woman, and very grateful.
I found this on a friend's blog and thought I'd like to re-post. I never had a wedding, a thing I don't really regret (when I see the miserable hassle my loved ones endure for such events!), but sometimes I like to fantasize about what things I'd include in my wedding if I ever do have one (like a vow-renewal). This would very likely be included as a reading.** Enjoy!
Why Marriage?
By Mari Nichols-Haining
Because to the depths of me, I long to love one person
With all my heart, my soul, my mind, my body...
Because I need a forever friend to trust with the intimacies of me,
Who won't hold them against me,
Who loves me when I'm unlikeable,
Who sees the small child in me, and
Who looks for the divine potential in me...
Because I need to cuddle in the warmth of the night
With someone who thanks God for me,
With someone I feel blessed to hold...
Because marriage means opportunity
To grow in love in friendship...
Because marriages do not fail, people fail
When they enter into marriage
Expecting another to make them whole...
I take half of the responsibility for my marriage
But together we create our marriage...
**I would like to take this moment to remind the reader, if they have forgotten, that my beliefs are quite liberal, and I firmly and whole-heartedly believe that the cultural norm of a two-person union is not necessarily the perfect, ideal, or only type of fulfilling, rewarding, healthy marriage. And I certainly don't believe in a hetero-normative view of marriage by any stretch of the imagination. We can get into that some other day, but I just want the record clear: I believe in love! The more the merrier ;)
So, sorry for the non-sequitor. I'm trying desperately to finish the one I want to post next but it's being a stubborn bitch and just won't come together for me.
So I dug into my folder and pulled out this little scene. It's almost insignificant, almost.
But I like it, nonetheless.
And it's bite-sized!
This obviously takes place before the honeymoon, lol.
*********
“Mr. Grey?” Grey took one look at the man and knew he’d interrupted something. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve come to return the money you lent me.” He lifted the briefcase and extended it toward the mussed-looking older man. Grey caught the whiff of cigar smoke and booze and felt relief to be rid of him.
“She wouldn’t take it?” The man said, a smile creeping across his face. Grey was uncomfortable with the sheen around the man’s lips and chin. He winced and tried not to imagine too specifically what that shine might have come from.
“No sir.” He answered simply. “Thank you.” He felt like a heel. “Really. Thank you for the help.” He was grateful, even though the gratitude made him feel slimy. Even though the fact that this son of a bitch was ready to step in when Jonah refused made Grey boil and rage. He hated Jonah for leaving him no option but to crawl to this miserable fuck.
“So what now son?” Said the man, reaching over lazily and unburdening Grey of the case.
Grey blinked. “Now I go to city hall.” He responded blandly.
Vaughan’s eyebrows lifted. “You sure about this? There must be another way—“
“Thank you again for the loan sir.” Grey said repressively. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m in something of a rush.” He nodded politely and turned to go.
“Son—“
Grey seized up, his foot already planted on the next step down, and he turned slowly. He hated when the man called him that. “Mr. Grey?” He answered evenly.
“Why don’t you take this anyway—as a wedding present.” The older man held out the briefcase, offering it back up.
Grey squinted at the offering. “Thank you, but I’m afraid I can’t accept. That’s… far too generous.” The older man and the younger stared at one another for a long moment. A slow chuckle sounded from Vaughan Grey and Grey felt the hair on the back of his arms raise underneath his coat and shirt.
“You come see me.” The man said, chuckling. “You bring me whatever contract she has you sign and we’ll just see what we can do.”
Grey felt his nose twitch. He never wanted to see the man again, had no desire to seek out his aid for any reason. “Of course.” He responded smoothly, revulsed by the man’s swaggering grin and his loose silk robe and his leathery old face with the glistening evidence of foreplay all over his lips and chin. “I won’t keep you.” Grey said with a humorless smirk, and, with yet another courteous little nod, he turned once more and left that place. He heard the man laugh heartily behind him, heard the door close, and only then did Grey draw his next breath.
It was beginning to rain. He needed to go pick up the girl he was going to marry.
Hope you've been enjoying the Maggie & Grey stuff. Today we're jumping back to the present-ish with their drive upstate for a 'honeymoon'. There are two parts for this so please read them in order if you want them to make the most sense. I thought about splitting them over two days, but NAH! I like them as a pair of vignettes and want them to be together in the blogosphere.
Remember, if you like these two please check out their backstory-- go to the Meet-Cute entry from a couple days ago and the blog entry will have a pretty comprehensive list of linkage for you to follow if you want to navigate the backlogs. Which... yeah, I'll be honest, I hope you choose to do because, well, because I think you will enjoy. Alright? I said it. Read my stuff. lol.
Anyway-- two people, picked to live in a house... or on a honeymoon first and then a house...
Enjoy!
****************
She sat in the passenger seat of his BMW feeling numb and overwhelmed and tired and faintly queasy. They were driving upstate. To a resort. For a honeymoon.
Both Grey and Maggie had protested, tried to get out of it, but his parents had insisted. “It’s already paid for! I’ve made all the arrangements! Let us do this for you, let this be a wedding gift!” His mother had gushed with such joy, such enthusiasm that both of them had crumbled. Grey had finally smiled and kissed her on the cheek and thanked her. Shook his father’s hand and solemnly thanked him too.
Then she’d had to say goodbye to her father, without a moment alone to speak with him privately, because Mrs. Delaney insisted they hit the road right then in order to arrive in time to see the spectacular sunset view from their honeymoon suite. Maggie didn’t want anything to do with that honeymoon suite but she’d smiled and feigned blushing enthusiasm. Grey remained fairly stoic in the face of all the romantic innuendo and she thought he kept sparing sideways glances at her father.
“I’ll be back soon Papa.” She told him as she hugged him goodbye. “Just a week. I’m so sorry, I know you’ll have to cover my shifts—“
“Goodbye Magdalena.” He’d cut her off gently. “Try to enjoy yourself.” He said. “The restaurant and the wine store and school and your family will be here in a week.” He joked lightly.
He was smiling but he seemed very, very saddened. It made her chest ache to know that she’d done this to him. “Oh, Papa—“ She gasped, “Essie! I won’t have a chance to see her before I go--”
He cupped her cheek in his rough palm affectionately. “I will tell your sister when she gets home from school. You can call her tonight.”
Maggie had nodded, in acquiescence, but she felt terribly guilty. She knew he didn’t support this marriage, not until it was performed before a priest, and now he was being somewhat strong-armed--by the delicate arms of Velvet Delaney—into letting his daughter go off for a week with a young man who may have been her husband by law, but not in the eyes of the church. “I will talk to Father Ruiz as soon as I’m back.” She promised in an urgent whisper.
“I will speak to him this afternoon.” Her father replied darkly. “Buena suerta, Hija.” He said gruffly. “Sea feliz y sea segura.” He looked grimly toward Grey, who was accepting another adoring kiss on his cheek from his mother. “I hope you know what you’re up against.” He added, and Maggie couldn’t be sure if he intended the comment for herself or for Grey.
“Goodbye!” Grey’s mother had called after them as they rushed through the rain to the car. “And we’ll take care of everything while you’re gone!” And she’d waved that perfectly manicured little hand and squeezed her husband’s suit sleeve and looked for all the world like she might float away on bubbles of joy.
The mood inside the BMW was quite the opposite. They’d been to the wine shoppe so she could ask for time off, they’d been to her home so she could pack a bag and they’d been to his apartment so he could do the same. All of which had been done with stiff civility and barely concealed detestation.
Maggie figured Grey had been polite and respectful for such a long period of time that he was about due for some time to brood. To her enormous relief he’d been a gentleman to her father, and even been cordial to his Uncle Nolan at the wine store. She hated Grey, but she couldn’t have been more grateful for how he’d handled himself today. She wanted to thank him, felt guilty that she had not yet done so, but everytime she peeked over at his profile as he drove them upstate she lost her nerve to speak. He looked so dark and brooding and violent.
The first time she spoke to him after leaving the Cedar Falls city limits was about two hours into the drive, and that was only because of an unavoidable imperative.
“Can we stop?” She’d finally said, after sitting in near agony for the better part of a half-hour.
He seemed almost startled by her voice, as if he’d succeeded in forgetting she was in the car with him. “Why?”
She bit her lip and breathed out slowly. “I need to use the bathroom.” She admitted, feeling a furious blush bloom all over her body. She couldn’t care, she had to go.
He didn’t say anything for a minute. “There’s an exit in two miles.”
She thanked him. The silence in the car seemed heavier, now that it had been breached, and the pressure to say something else nagged and pushed at her.
“Your mother is very sweet.” She said, deciding to give into the urge to chat and also try to take her mid off her bladder.
Grey looked at her for a moment and then returned his eyes to the road. “She is.” He agreed.
Maggie breathed. “Your father is too.” She added. “He was so kind to me today.”
“Let’s not do this.” Grey said coldly.
“I—“ Maggie didn’t know what to say.
“Let’s not play this ‘getting to know you’ game.” He elaborated. Maggie thought he pushed the car a little faster and held her breath as he switched highway lanes without bothering to use his directional or even really spare a glance around him.
“I was just trying to make conversation.” She said honestly.
“How terribly polite of you.” He mocked. “Tell me then, as long as we’re making conversation, did you really intend to have me arrested on rape charges, or were you bluffing?”
Her mouth fell open.
“Oh, I’m so sorry—“ He said, looking at her with an expression of mock-sincerity “Is that one of those awkward conversation starters? I’m hopeless when it comes to these social graces.” The edge on his tone went right through her.
“I wasn’t bluffing.” She answered him plainly.
He sniffed derisively. “And the other girls?”
“What difference does it make now?” She shot back.
The car veered toward the exit ramp and she clutched at the door to keep from leaning too far toward him. She said a small prayer to St. Christopher and then to St. Jude, deciding that if St. Christopher wasn’t a real saint anymore then she’d need back-up. Grey was a very dangerous sort of driver normally, and she was discovering that when he was in a temper he was ten times more frightening to be in a car with.
He pulled into a gas station, screeched to a stop and threw the car into park. She was almost afraid to get out of the car—she had a fluttering feeling in her belly that he might drive away and leave her there. With trembling hands she gathered her purse and stepped out without another word to him. She had a little money in her purse and she had her phone. She would be alright if he left her there. She could call someone to pick her up. It wouldn’t be the end of the world. She tried to assure herself of her independence as she located the ladies room and knocked.
Finding it blessedly unoccupied she bent the standard-issue handle down and pushed inward. The hum of the fluorescent light above her head was louder than the store’s radio and the effect of the flickering lighting was distinctly corpse-green. She pushed the little button to lock the door behind her and sized-up the toilet. It didn’t look too terribly filthy. It certainly didn’t look clean, either though.
When she’d finished she was surprised for the second time that day that Grey had waited for her. She found him idly spinning the sunglasses rack, a look a mild disgust on his face.
“Thank you.” She told him stiffly as she joined him where he stood.
“Do you need anything?” He asked casually, as if the last words they’d spoken before her restroom break hadn’t been about rape and blackmail.
“Maybe a bottle of water?” She said, aware that such a purchase would mean the inevitability of having to make another stop sometime before the resort.
“Nothing to eat?”
She felt her stomach revolt at the mention of food. “I couldn’t eat a thing.” She said. “Everything makes me want to throw up.”
He nodded tersely. “Any specific brand?” He asked in a lazy voice as he strolled to the large glass refrigerator doors along the wall of the convenience store.
Any specific brand of… water? “No.” She decided to keep her opinion on the absurdity of that question to herself and watched him with one eyebrow raised as he chose the most expensive brand of bottled water from the cool bowels of the refrigerator. He grabbed two of them and headed for the register.
“Want a magazine or something?”
She thought a magazine might be nice but shook her head. She wondered what aspect of his personality made him behave like this. Like a perfect gentleman. Considerate. Generous. She wondered if it had something to do with being in a public venue. But then, he hadn’t needed to get out of the car at all. But he had. He’d come into the little store to wait for her and offer her treats and she shook her head in confusion.
He paid for a pack of gum and the waters, handed her one and then walked to the door, which he held open for her. She felt a tugging in her breast and she attacked it with a savage force. ‘So he held a door for you’. He was well bred, she told herself brutally, he would always hold doors for her, for any woman, because he’d been raised right, ‘not because he cares about you at all’. It was habit, nothing more.
When they reached the car he opened that door too and she chided herself for being pleased with the gesture. ‘Get a hold of yourself Maggie’, she warned, As she thanked him and sat.
After unwrapping some gum he turned on the radio, searched for a station and offered her a piece, to which she had a peculiar aversion at present, and pulled out of the gas station toward the highway. They didn’t speak again for another hour and a half, and to her surprise it was Grey who broke the silence.
“Do you need me to find a rest stop?” He asked.
Gratitude swelled in her heart despite her best efforts to remain neutral. “Thank you, yes.” She had been prepared to wait, to hold it a while longer, but given the opportunity she would absolutely love to stop.
“Are you hungry yet?”
The mention of food didn’t immediately turn her stomach so she entertained the notion. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” He asked, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“It’s hard to be sure.” She said, feeling a bit silly.
“You didn’t eat much at brunch.” He observed, and she was surprised he’d noticed that.
“And I threw that up in the ladies’ room.” She confessed. She felt guilty about that, it had been an expensive meal.
“You should eat.” He said sternly.
“I think I’d like a smoothie.” She said after a minute. It was hard to think of any liquids at the moment though, because she had to pee pretty badly.
“It’s the middle of the winter.” He was almost laughing. She sighed. She didn’t want to be difficult.
“Maybe there’s a juice place?” She suggested half-heartedly.
“I’ll look for one at the next exit.” He answered.
“Thank you.” She said, not really believing that he could be so considerate to someone who had effectively ruined his life.
They fell back into a silence. She didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t seem to want to talk much anyhow. Her mind wandered and the questions she’d been trying hard to bury all afternoon resurfaced once more. What in heaven would they do all week? Because they certainly weren’t going to honeymoon in the traditional sense. She swallowed and blushed a little at the thought.
She reprimanded herself for thinking about him that way. It would only hurt more. Because she had loved him. With all her heart. Had fallen head over heels in love. And he had been a complete bastard. The worst.
She needed to loathe him. She hated that she was still attracted to him. Hated that she wondered if he still felt attracted to her at all.
Because what was the point in wondering those things? In thinking about them? If he didn’t care for her before, then forcing him into a marriage wasn’t going to magically stir up affection in the man. He likely loathed her and resented her and she knew she’d better get used to that right away. Get used to a cold, passionless marriage with a man who could barely stand her.
She recited the Hail Mary in her head and tried to decide if she’d done the right thing. She’d had no choice. It had been the only way. She’d made mistakes, big mistakes with this man, swept up in the heat of passion, and this, as underhanded as it was, was the only way out. She sighed and resigned herself to an unhappy existence if it meant her child would be well provided for and that her father would not disown her.
It hurt too much to think of her father, of his disappointment, of his broken heart that morning over brunch. A broken heart would mend in time, especially when she delivered him a grandchild. She smiled a bittersweet little smile as she imagined what a wonderful grandfather he would make.
She thought Mr. and Mrs. Delaney seemed like they would be good grandparents too. Her child would be blessed and loved… perhaps not by its father, but by everyone else. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“The next exit has a smoothie place.” He said, shifting the car over to the far right lane, a small triumphant smile on his face.
He glanced at her then and she smiled gratefully. His smile faded to a shadow. Reluctantly, it seemed, he dragged his eyes off her face and back to the road.
What in heaven were they going to do with themselves all week?
*********************
He was peckish but didn’t want to eat if she was feeling nauseated. When she’d suggested smoothies he’d leapt at the idea. It concerned him that she’d thrown up both her breakfast and brunch. How the hell did pregnant women get any nourishment if they were vomiting up everything all the time? He didn’t want to have to explain why his new bride had been hospitalized on their honeymoon for fuck’s sake.
Their honeymoon. Grey wanted to groan out loud but managed to suppress the urge. What in hell would they do all week? He’d toyed with the idea of dropping Maggie off and letting her have a week of vacation on her own, but he knew his mother well enough to know she’d check up on them. She’d expect to see on their bill that they’d eaten at the restaurant and visited the spa and ordered lots of poolside drinks and room service, lots and lots of room service for two. And with the way Maggie could barely manage to even eat like a bird he figured he’d better stick around and do his part and order the appropriate amounts of food and drink and other things that would help their mini vacation pass, on paper, as a romantic getaway.
His mother had winked and told him that the Manager of the resort was an old friend of hers and also the Daytime Concierge, so he shouldn’t hesitate to ask for anything his heart—or Maggie’s heart—desired. So he was trapped. He needed to go, and stay, and be there, and pretend to be having a great little honeymoon. For his mother’s sake.
He felt a powerful surge of rancor toward Maggie that seemed to make his bones vibrate. He could use a drink.
He saw the sign for the next exit and quickly glanced over the advertized eateries.
“The next exit has a smoothie place.” He felt triumphant. He hadn’t been confident that they’d be able to locate one and the sight of the pink and yellow sign served as a balm for his stormy mood. Maybe he was hungrier than he thought.
He glanced at her and she gave him a sweet smile. His brain seemed to slow down, jam-up. How could such a life-sucking bitch be so fucking adorable? He dragged his eyes from her earnest little smile and made himself focus on driving.
What the fuck were they going to do with themselves all week?
He checked the gas gauge. He’d filled up at the last stop and he still had just over half a tank so he decided to head right for the smoothie place. “The bathroom’s probably nicer here.” He commented as they pulled up to the brightly colored little building.
She laughed. “It would almost have to be.” She said playfully.
He got out and went around to open her door for her but she was already stepping out. He offered her his hand, a gesture which gave her pause. “I’m not that pregnant yet.” She said with a small laugh. “I can manage.”
He pulled his hand back awkwardly. He hadn’t been doing it because of her condition, he realized, he’d been doing it because it was the right thing to do. Because his father never failed to do it for his mother. He shoved his hand into his pocket and silently cursed himself and his Dad with equal venom.
“Thanks though.” She said as she closed the car door. She looked like she regretted saying anything.
“No problem” he covered smoothly. “Do you know what you want? I can order while you’re in the rest room.”
“Um.” She looked thoughtful as they walked to the door. Automatically he moved ahead and pulled it open for her. They looked at eachother for a minute and she laughed. “Thanks.” She said and crossed into the smoothie shop. Fuck. He liked the sound of her laugh. He didn’t want to like it at all. “No, I can’t decide.” She said, a little antsy as she stared at the overwhelming menu that hung over the smoothie bar.
“Go ahead,” He said, nodding toward the sign for the restrooms “You won’t be able to think about it with a full bladder.”
She flashed him a genuine smile and scooted toward the bathrooms. He watched her disappear behind a bright pink door before turning his attention to the menu above the counter. He stood there, running his eyes over the cutesy names of blended drinks and sincerely wished they might add vodka or rum to his.
“D’you know what you want?” Piped a high, sweet voice from behind the counter. Grey’s eyes fell from the description of a “Funkee Munkee” and he saw the teenaged girl to whom the voice belonged. She was smirking at him and her eyes were rapacious. He swallowed. His pulse quickened. And he smiled a very charming smile.
“What do you recommend?” He asked in a liquid baritone, his eyes narrowing just a little his smile deepening handsomely.
The girl tossed her hair over one shoulder and then the other, arched her back to better display her small, perky tits and bit her lower lip in an exhibit of deliberative pondering. Grey’d put her at about seventeen. At most. Maybe sixteen. But he knew immediately that she wasn’t a virgin. And he knew she wanted him. Which was appealing.
“Do you like cherries?” She asked doing a slow blink and fixing him with a meaningful stare.
Oh, subtle, he thought and squashed his instinct to roll his eyes. “Very much.” He answered smoothly, but lightly. He stepped toward the counter as she leaned over it just enough to show what cleavage she possessed to better advantage.
“There’s a Berry Cherry Surprise that’s really really good.” She said in a kittenish purr.
“What’s the surprise?” He heard himself asking her reflexively, in a low, playful tone.
“Maybe you should taste it and find out.” She said brazenly and smiled wickedly.
He knew, in that moment, that he could have her. That she would take her fifteen minute break on the spot and let him fuck her in the back of his BMW or up against the wall in the rest room.
She looked him up and down and then cocked an eyebrow at his hands. “Is that a wedding ring?” The idea seemed to enflame her open desire rather than douse it.
He looked down at his hands and was a little startled to see he’d been absently spinning the band on his left ring finger with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. He wasn’t used to jewelry.
“It is.” He said, more to himself than to her as he gazed at the plain gold band. It wasn’t at all to his taste, as far as wedding rings went. He’d walked into the jewelers asked for a standard pair and walked out with this traditional thing and the smaller, matching one for her finger. He’d had to guess at the size on hers.
“You seem kinda young to be married.” She flirted shamelessly. He heard another girl giggle in the back where she was wiping down surfaces with a damp rag. On another day he might have tempted them to put out the “Back in Ten Minutes” sign and had a quickie threesome with them both right there in the store. He stared at her, his smile lopsided now.
Had she seen him come in with Maggie? He believed she had seen, had watched him walk in with someone, and yet she still came on to him relentlessly. He realized he behaved the same way when he saw something he wanted. He’d walked out of parties with other men’s dates more than a few times in his life and hadn’t given it a second thought. He enjoyed it, in fact.
The girl looked over at the sound of the squeaking hinges of the pink bathroom door and then flicked her eyes back at Grey suggestively. “So what can I get for you sir?” She asked, not bothering at all to change the bedroom quality of her little-girl voice.
Grey stared at her for a long moment, even after he felt Maggie approach and come to rest by his side. He openly ran his gaze down her slim, barely-ripening body and had a fairly good idea of what she’d look like underneath that horrible pink polyester uniform that she’d pulled tight and pinned in the back in an effort to make it look more stylish, cuter. He lifted his eyes back to her face then and decided she was wearing far too much eye makeup. Decided that the fuck would be quick and eager but not terribly satisfying. Decided that there would be nothing remotely surprising or even interesting about her when she spread her legs for him. He might as well jerk-off if he wanted that kind of release.
Still holding the girl’s gaze he spoke to Maggie: “Anything look good to you here?” he asked.
Maggie didn’t speak right away. “Does anything look good to you?” She responded in a tight voice.
“Not as good as I thought it would.” He said with a smirk at the girl across the counter. “I’m not sure the fruit is fresh enough here.”
The girl’s mouth dropped open.
He smiled charmingly and then turned to Maggie. “How does a milkshake sound instead?” He asked her. He wanted to get out of there.
She looked at him for half a moment, then looked back at the girl. “Do you have milkshakes?”
“Yeah, we do.” The cloying little voice answered a tad flippantly.
“Maybe a vanilla milkshake.” Said Maggie uncertainly.
“You should add the protein shot for fifty cents.” Said the girl in a tone that made Grey’s skin crawl.
“Oh, should I?” Asked Maggie artlessly, turning to look at Grey.
“Yeah, every woman should get a good protein shot.” Said the girl snidely.
Grey reached over and took Maggie’s hand firmly in his own. He couldn’t say why the girl’s heavy-handed innuendo had made him so angry but it had. “I saw an ice-cream parlor a block back.” He said decisively. “Let’s go.” He shot a brutal glare at the little slut when he reached the door—he was inexplicably furious with her for speaking that way to Maggie and it took all his self control not to say something insulting and he held the door open for his wife. Maggie sailed by him with a murmured ‘thanks’, an expression of mild bewilderment on her face.
“Have a nice day.” The girl said in a tone that belied the sentiment.
Grey exited without another word and lengthened his stride so that he would reach Maggie’s car door before she did. He held it open for her and closed it gently after she’d settled herself within. He groaned quietly as he walked around to the driver’s side of the BMW. What the fuck was he going to with himself for a week?
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