Breaching the doorway, Vincent took in the sight he dreaded; Blue asleep.
Back turned to him, light from the bathroom streaming steadily onto her back and carving out the spine peering from beneath her lifted camisole, he hadn’t the heart to eyefuck the ass on full display to him. Instead, he made a slow approach and drew the comforter that had ridden down to her feet over her hips—and sigh with relief as the woman grunted and turned to face him.
Squinting into the light, she smiled softly—an expression quickly stolen by disappointment and a firmed frown. “You were meant to be home by eight—we were going to have dinner,”
Sinking to a crouch bedside his wife, Vincent began to coax the knotted hair from the woman’s eyes. “I know, Richard had to travel so I had to pick up his slack,” The man spoke bitterly, as though his hatred for the man couldn’t grow further. Yet it had.
“‘Travel<
Staring at the whites of the ocean she could hardly see through the veil of night, Blue felt father cheated that the wait at the drive-through for dinner had stolen the sunset view Vincent promised so eagerly. Yet, despite that, she did find refuge in the city lights that twinkled from the peninsula’s bend as though peering coyly over New York’s very shoulder. Blinking rapidly with each twinkle. The smoke plume and fiery wick of a distant factory its exhale. And somehow, however slightly, the sight of the moon breaking through the clouds as though it was lone gnocchi surfacing from its murky, boiling water soothed the pretentious aesthete that had roused after Vincent had played David Attenborough instead of Mayday that afternoon. Turning to glance at her husband who sat quietly, his burger little more than a crumpled wrapper in the cupholder between them, she decided that co-existing with someone else wasn’t quite as awful as she had always thought it to
Blue found no joy in admitting that she spent more time with Sandra than she did with her own husband in recent times. Vincent left before she awoke; planted a gentle kiss on his sleeping wife’s shoulder before he dressed silently. He’d return by the time she begrudgingly fell asleep, that much she had gathered. Staring at the sleeping man as she awoke mid-sleep for reasons that eluded still, she admittedly wondered if Richard had succeeded in keeping them apart sans some diabolical scheme.But the dates that she longed for at a quiet cafe had become brunch with her mother-in-law; the change room quickies she’d enjoyed once upon a time had been traded for designer handbag shopping and tiny sandwiches. There was only so much “watching her figure” for the wedding she could feign before pregnancy nausea began to look like anorexia.“What are you doing at university, darling?” the question alone was enough to make Blue clam up with
Vincent had been staring for quite some time.Bordered by a simple frame sat a photograph that did far more harm than it did good. Blazoned by twisting silver arms, his wife’s smile enclosed in its abstract metal frame, peered back a woman so innocent. Bright blue eyes narrowed. Nose scrunched. Shoulders hidden by a tangle of blankets. Glittering wedding bands clutching the duvet over her chin. From their honeymoon. The rather last-minute trip he’d never felt more intentional. Days on end of lying in bed with his woman, hiding from the cruelness that had become her fortunes. Richard had been forgotten. All that mattered those few days were concerns over which restaurants they’d have time for or what films would best put them to sleep.It was hard to believe they’d married in secret, no matter how necessary it had been. He’d battled the urge to confess what he’d felt on the balcony the night they met. How as their lips met that first
“Any last words?” Staring down at his wife, Vincent smiled softly. Her face bright with a nervous blush. Lips red and bitten. Cracked, dry. Hair tangled where his own hands had wrapped. Mock neck blouse covering the blossoming bruises from his teeth creeping up her chest. Skirt creased where she had sat on his lap. She smiled back. Leaned towards him invitingly. An invitation he found rather difficult to refuse. “It’s not too late to leave,” “We’re already here, Blue,” “That’s for me to worry about,” “You stole my line.” “You weren’t using it.” “No one likes a smart ass,” Quickly, he took the woman’s face in his hands. Pressed his nose to hers. Breathed her every breath. Considered kissing her, stood at her mother’s doorstep. They’d be on the awkward first date they never had. Vincent would walk her to the door, fingers brushing, far too shy to twist his hand with hers. He would wrap her in his coat; give her a reason to telephone him
“You and your uncle seem awfully close.” Blue froze as Vincent spoke, halfway through shrugging off her jacket. He had been silent the whole way home. She’d considered fleetingly that he was upset another man had been attempting to slide a hand beneath her skirt. Though some part of her knew he wouldn’t have known unless he’d gotten to his knees and looked under the table. He hadn’t. Was he jealous? “What’s that supposed to mean?” “He’s more interested in who you have to marry than Richard is and you’re marrying the fool,” “Am I?” Suddenly, Vincent paused. He eyed his own two rings carefully, perched on the woman’s finger. Warmed by the sun where they’d been stored in his car cupholder. Catching on the afternoon through the windows. “Maybe you should.” “If that’s how you feel I think it’s a little late for that.” “I have to show you something,” While Blue hoped rather earnestly the man was about to unzip his trousers and present himsel
Hugged his sides with her knees as he scooped her onto the kitchen counter. Sighed in recognition as his hips rocked into hers and he pressed her with the very bulge in his trousers she was afraid would shatter her resolve. And as the fingers of his left hand laced through hers and she felt the cool press of his wedding band against her palm, Blue considered surrendering to the man’s mouth, lips on her neck with the love she wasn’t so sure of. Flipping the hem of her dress from her thighs and over her stomach, Vincent braced between her legs with his fingers as he had over and over. Traced her through her dampened underwear. Braced her collarbone with his teeth. Eyes cast to the ceiling, Blue found it rather easy to forget the ceremony that had meant so much to her had meant so little to her husband. The stranger suckling on her exposed breast as though he was the child she would bear him. Wrapping his large hands around her shoulders as though he’d prized her as much as he’
“Come to bed.”Blue glanced from the mirror, her hair cupped in one hand and a brush wrapped in the other. “In a minute. Let me freshen up.” She spoke quickly. Nervously.Richard’s house had been all she would expect. Timelessly decorated with cream marble and drapes, gold accenting the lot of it. Modern square edges replaced any baroque trims. White sheepskin throws hugged the couches. The master bedroom was much the same. Bright and heavenly. A dated French Provincial wooden chest wearing a marble chapeau sported a colossal paper-thin flat screen. The golden trim of the dressing table mirror fringed by a brilliant LED. Blue took note of how pale she’d gotten. The fur rug had more color.“I think your hair is brushed well enough,” Richard paused. Meeting the woman’s gaze in her reflection. She stared back coldly. He had always assumed their first night together would be their wedding night, the fact she&rsqu
It had been three days since Blue had left, though not of her own accord. He’d woken as he had in the months before they met; rolled into the middle of his bed, stood after staring at the ceiling for a few moments. He’d shave. Brush his teeth. Sit alone at their café with an espresso that had gone cold with his fantasies of the woman sitting in front of him. Had she filed for divorce yet? Told her parents she’d been secretly married? Admitted her pregnancy? Did she sleep through the night? Or did she wake every few hours and roll over to throw an arm across the empty sheets half-asleep?He’d entertained visions of Richard’s half-limp cock laboring lazily into her. Wondered if they shared a bed. Wondered if she’d gone home or moved in with her fiancé. If she thought of him as often as he had. If she’d believed his lies of no longer caring for her—if she hated him as much as she ought to have thought he her. And wond
Staring out at the living room floor, Blue saw a sight she never thought she would live to see: Marian playing with her grandson on the floor. It was unsettling, in an uncanny-valley way. Something so close to resembling human but just short of enough. She spun her engagement ring back and forth on her finger. He slid his arm around her waist. “’You okay?” She glanced up to the man stood at her side. His dark hair gathered into a short, thick ponytail. Eyes as bright as ever. Smile as devilish. Would it be so wrong to fuck like animals with her mother in the room next to them? After all, to a married couple, sex was the most natural thing. Or so she'd heard. “Yeah,” Blue sighed. Hugged her arms around herself. “I think so,” “How long is she staying?” “Until she can get the settlement money from Bradley,” “I didn’t think he had any left,” “It’s all
It could have been hours by the time Blue came to. Usually, the state of her coffee would be a good indicator, but it had been stone cold for god knows how long. The sun was still up, if that counted for anything. She had left her phone at the house. Vincent was with the baby. She had stolen herself away for some quiet at the very café she had shared with both Vincent and Richard. Sat staring at her right hand where the engagement ring of the latter sat without a band. What was he doing? A thought that crossed her mind often. She hadn’t heard from him after the verdict, though still awaiting the sentencing. She had the thought that he was arrested for assaulting a police officer after his fiasco of escaping custody in the courtroom. Christopher wouldn’t have set any bail, would he? Not after he pretended to have been oblivious to his son’s sins. It would be hard to act surprised if he was actively helping his son as someone ought to. Vincent
Blue stared at the city; Vincent stood at the counter behind her. The windowsill seemed to share her most pivotal moments more than even the universe shared them with her. Though her grief was one of the poorer-kept secrets of the world she felt marginally better whispering her thoughts to the brittle pane. Just as she felt gratitude Vincent had kept the apartment they’d outgrown with the baby for nostalgia’s sake. Or to bolster his net worth. Either one.She was muttering the same three words over and over. Repeated hoping that enough times would unencumber her or the rage that swelled with each inhale to expel them. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate… The world?“I should write him a very strongly worded letter.” She glanced to her husband, the man fiddling with a steaming tea as though debating which moment would be safest to present it to his wife. “But
“It is found,” Blue glanced up at her husband, her arse feeling rather sore from the wooden bench. They had been sat in court for what ought to have been five hours at that point. The room smelt of wood varnish and stale air, having the look about it of a church with generous natural light and the buzz of Catholic choir. Only the silence rattled through much the same way any prayer would. “That the Commonwealth has proven beyond a reasonable doubt,” She had stared at the back of Richard’s head the whole time, if only hoping he would meet her eyes for just a second. She feared he thought no one in the room was on his side, a feeling she had become well-acquainted with over the years. Nothing seemed more dreadful than being carted off to prison with that same feeling. How strange it was to think that the man she was so sure she would murder given the chance had sat on the living room floor playing with her son just a day or two before. Staring into her husband’s deep green eyes, she w
“So, I have a question,” Blue reached for her coffee, eyeing her maid. Well, she wasn’t her maid anymore. She was her mother-in-law. It was complicated. Pregnancy had somehow made her even fonder of coffee, maybe because she hadn’t had it. “Why did you tell me not to stay with Vincent when I told you I was pregnant if he was your son this whole time?” She couldn’t help but smile at her own sentence, taking a long gulp of the latte that had since gone flat. Vincent stared between the two silently. It was news to him.“I thought he was going to prison,” She simply shrugged. It was a good enough answer. Blue wasn’t sure whether Anya—Alfonza, as she had come to know—liked her all that much. “I thought I was doing what was best for everyone,”“So, you tell my wife to leave me?” Then came her husband’s booming voice, deep and accented. Ho
Blue stared at the deep purple wrap dress in the mirror, sleeves to her elbows. Loosened the strings around her waist and tightened the knot again as though it would magically make her thinner. She was yet to properly mourn her pre-baby figure. She looked like a rectangle. A bloated, lumpy rectangle. Or so she thought quietly to herself. She tore the dress over her head.“I think we’ve found a winner,” Vincent entered the wardrobe quietly. Tried his best not to gawk at the woman in her underwear as though he’d never seen her half-naked before. Failed miserably. Wrapped his arms around her middle instead and pressed his mouth to hers. But she shoved him away. Turned back to the clothes instead.“We can’t do this, we’ll be late,” though she spoke as firmly as she could, she couldn’t help but smile softly to herself and blush as she leafed through her clothes without looking. The idea of let
“It’s not fair, why can’t I go with Richard?” Vincent dug his heels in as he stopped behind his mother. Hoped a childish frown would move her enough to let her son be with his only friend. “I’m not a child anymore,”“I’ve seen the awful lot Richard hangs out with, you can either help me out for the rest of the day or go to the deli with your father,”“I’m a vegetarian.” He spoke expressionlessly.“Housekeeping it is!” Alfonza sounded a bit too cheerful for Vincent’s liking. Was it too late to call back the Taxi that had brought him straight from school? “Now find somewhere quiet to sit, I shouldn’t be any longer than an hour,”“I’ve got homework tonight, Ma.”“Then do your work here,” She smiled again. A bit too cheerful. Aga
Her skirt was over her stomach in a matter of seconds, underwear kicked beneath the bed. Heart racing, fingertips beating in the tips of her fingers curled up into her palms, Blue spread her legs with no further instruction. Released a long, shaky breath as her husband hooked her legs over his shoulders and breathed into the inside of her thigh. But she stared at the roof. Watched the shadow cast by the lamp behind him loom over her, growing in size as he neared. And all she could feel was his hot, damp exhale fanning her center; his opened mouth quick to follow. “I still can’t believe I’m your wife.” She grumbled the words quietly, arching her back as his lips closed around her and his teeth grazed her labia. “I’m a lucky man.” He grumbled back, his voice twisting through her and carrying its echo deep into her stomach. “I can’t believe that you were so adamant you never wanted to see me again after your birthday party and now you’ve got your pussy i
“Are you joking?” He had his wife’s face in his hands again, staring between her narrowed eyes with a look of expectation now not quite as well-hidden. “You actually went to the police?”“Of course, I did, all the love I had left for him went when I found out how much my mom actually cares.” She looked like she’d thought it rather obvious. Despite the fact she’d been defending him for so long. “He could be sentenced to death, and I’ll be happy to do it.”“You don’t mean that,” he’d released her, sitting back on the edge of the bed, hands on his knees. But she’d rocked forward. Wrapped her fingers through the sides of his hair. Met his eyes with a stare he wasn’t quite so daffy to break.“He told me it was my own fault Richard hurt me.”“But Richard’