Husband by Penelope Skye

his fault.
It was hard to look at him when he wore that expression of perpetual rage. He had such a handsome
face, but that dark tint around his presence always made him slightly formidable. He’d come into my
life at various stages, and I realized it’d been almost ten years since we’d first met. The more he
aged, the sexier he became. Now he was thirty-one…and in better shape than he’d ever been.
I kept drinking. This dinner had to end sometime.
He still didn’t talk, as if he expected me to do all the work.
In situations like these, it seemed like marrying him was a bad idea. How could we ever be
compatible? But when I considered my other options, I knew he was the best I would ever find.
I looked at my ring, watching it sparkle even though there was low lighting in the restaurant. It was a
beautiful ring, given to me by a beautiful man, but I still felt so empty inside.
When I looked at him, he still wore the same coldness. “Why are we here if you’re just going to glare
at me?”
“Not glaring.”
“You definitely aren’t smiling.”
“I don’t smile.”
It only happened on the rarest occasions. I think I’d seen it happen twice. “Well, is there something
you want to talk about?”
“Our marriage.”
“That wasn’t clear…since we’ve been sitting in silence for twenty minutes.”
“You know I’m not much of a talker.”
I decided to play his game instead of letting the discomfort fester. “Alright…where should we start?”
“You and your mother will move in with me. My place has enough space for all three of us, and it’s
much more secure than yours.”
“And what will we do with ours? It’s been in our family for decades.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me.”
“Why don’t you move in with us?”
“No.” He didn’t give an explanation.
“You won’t even consider it?”
He took a drink then gave the same answer. “No.”
Asshole. “Fine.”