Trouble Won't Wait Read Online Free PDF Page B

worried about me because I didn’t sound “right” when she called on Thanksgiving. Well, Aunt Clara, you just might become my sounding-board with this whole Indiscretion thing. I’ll return her call in the morning, first thing. Or maybe I’ll go see her.
    My mind keeps returning to one subject, as if I’m a man. I can’t focus on anything else. Did he go home and go to sleep? Is he as keyed-up as I am? The streaks of guilt which earlier colored my vision of our kiss are fading. Compared to Mike’s antics of late, I’ve done little to fracture our vows.
    Now I’m outright loving the memory of the kiss. I allow myself a few minutes to relive it, then decide to have a bath and take my time with it. Twice, I must add hot water in order to keep it comfortable, before I force my water-logged body out of the tub and into pajamas. Since my mind has naturally progressed to fantasizing about more illicit activities with Adam, I provide myself a distraction by reading some more of the novel, in front of the fireplace in the den.
    Mike added another fireplace in the master bedroom “for ambiance,” and we did make use of the romantic nature of it frequently in years past. If nothing else, it made the room cozy-warm on frosty winter nights, which is always more conducive to making love than flannel pj’s being removed under the cover of electric blankets. I pause my reading to recall some of the better nights we shared on the carpet in front of that fireplace.
    In fact, for the last three years, we’ve made a tradition of lovemaking there on Christmas Eve, after the kids have gone to sleep and we’ve fulfilled our Christmas parenting duties out by the tree. Mike bestows a gift of some erotic toy or flavored massage oil, and we herald the new Christmas day in a most sensual fashion. I think he gets a real kick out of hitting the adult bookstore during his Christmas shopping. Seeing his face as I unwrap our little secret gift is as precious to me as watching the kids open their number one items from their lists. God, we’ve shared so much. And dammit, I love him. How can he hurt me like this?
    We were only married a little past a year when Ben was born, but we’ve always made it a point to have date nights. We’ve taken trips alone ever since I weaned Rachel, and I was as excited as Mike to get back into the sexual swing of things after my postpartum check-ups.
    Together, we learned the quick way for me to have an orgasm, the way to make one more intense, the way to make him last and last…so many things we’ve done together, and he tells Lana he’s dissatisfied? We tried lots of new things together in bed, and were always able to laugh if they bombed. Even when I felt fat, we were good together. I never felt like he didn’t want me, just that maybe other men wouldn’t give me a second look.
    Come to think of it, I think he wanted me more when I was at my heaviest than since I’ve started dropping pounds. Is an element of insecurity at work here? Is he afraid of me becoming too attractive? Maybe he’s out to prove he can beat me to the punch by attracting other women before I attract other men. Why the hell can’t he talk to me, then?
    Tonight, I don’t want to read in front of our fireplace. I don’t even want to go in that room to access my closet, though I must. The pain is too raw, and I’m still trying to skirt it.
    So I read the story before me, knowing the heroine will find her happily ever after, even if mine is circling the drain.
     

 
    Chapter 3
     
    Saturday morning dawns in an uncharacteristically dreary way. Heavy cloud cover keeps both the morning and my mood a deep gray. I slept in Rachel’s soft bed in her muted pink room last night. The spare room downstairs seemed too pathetic and no way would I sleep in the master bed. Surrounded by Rachel’s multitude of stuffed animals and the baby dolls she has no intention of ever parting with, I didn’t feel so alone.
    After forcing down a breakfast