Hoax Husband - Candice M. Wright Page 0,70
because I learned it from you. It's because of my wife, a wife who at this moment in time doesn’t like me very much.”
“A wife?” he splutters.
“Yeah. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept, Christ knows you had enough of them.”
“Now, hang on a second—” he bites out, but I talk over him, my anger and frustration lashing out, not caring who their target might be.
“Just save it. You are in no position to give me advice, which fucking sucks because I could really use some right now. I love you, Dad, but I’m in no frame of mind to have dinner with you and one of your interchangeable wives when we both know this time next year you’ll be eating dinner with her replacement.” I hang up on him and put the phone on silent, having reached my limit of bullshit for today.
I sit at the breakfast bar and eat the food when it arrives, realizing just how fucking quiet it is in here. If I can’t convince Linda to come home, this will be my new normal. No, fuck that. One way or another, I will make my wife fall in love with me again.
I don’t care what I have to do, whatever it takes for however long, I’ll show Linda that I can be the husband she needs me to be even if I have to kidnap her and tie her to the bed to do it.
Thirty-Three
Linda
It started with Chinese food and a text saying your hair—nothing else.
The text came through while I was working that first night, so I didn't get it until afterward when I walked through the door to Tig’s place and found a note with the Chinese food in the fridge. Was I mad still? Yup. Did I eat the food anyway? Of course I did, but I ate it angrily.
The next day it was Indian curry delivered to the door while I watched Friends reruns and a text saying your taste.
This pattern continued for two weeks, a different meal, and a different message sent every single night listing all the things he loved about me.
Except for tonight.
Tonight I found an invitation to an art gallery opening for a new up-and-coming artist two weeks from now and a box containing a beautiful black silk floor-length dress with a slit up the left thigh revealing the hot pink lining underneath. Also tucked inside the box was a pair of gorgeous pink strappy heels and a beautiful vibrant rainbow-colored pashmina wrap.
There was also a note inside the box written in Asher's cursive writing. “For the woman who brings color into my world.”
I close the lid and drop my head to the table and sigh.
“You can’t ignore him forever, you know?”
I look up at Delia and frown. “Sure, I can,” I tell her defiantly.
She laughs and pulls out the chair opposite mine at the table. “Did I ever tell you about the time Tig and I split up?” she asks casually.
“What? No, when was this?” Tig and Delia have the kind of relationship I dream about. I had no idea they had come so close to walking away from each other.
“It was a long time ago now. I wasn’t much older than you. We had just opened the tattoo parlor, and it was hard. Money was tight. Tig worked long into the night to make ends meet. We hardly saw each other, and when we did, we fought. In the end, I walked out because somewhere along the way, my life became all about Tig, and I lost myself in the process. I felt stifled by him, but without him beside me, I found I couldn’t breathe. He hurt me, I hurt him, we fought, yelled, screamed, and threw stuff, but I couldn’t sleep in my bed without him beside me. You need to ask yourself what you can live with. He lied to you and hurt you, but he is trying to atone for it. Can you live with his reasoning? Ask yourself if you can live with the possibility of never waking up beside him again or worse still, knowing someone else is taking up the space in that bed and his heart that once was yours.”
Her words cause a sharp pain to tear through my heart at the thought of Asher with anyone else. “I’m scared,” I admit. “What happens if he changes once the deal goes through?” What if all this really is a lie? I just don’t know what to believe