Chapter 6
Kylie
Monday (Week 3 of the new job)
Bath bombs, some lavender candles, soft music—that's how I choose to spend the nine o'clock hour before Travis gets home.
The steamy water is finally nearing the top of the bathtub, so I cut off the faucet, light the candles, then switch off the lights. On the way to the tub, I strip then toss my panties and pajamas over to the laundry basket as I step into the bath.
"Ahh," I moan as I ease on down into the hot water, laying back and sinking lower until my shoulders are submerged. "Oh yeah..."
Without wasting any more time, I grab a bath bomb from the basket beside me and plop it in. Another moan escapes me as the water fizzes around me, making my skin tingle while coaxing my muscles to relax. I take a slow deep breath of the lavender and chamomile goodness swirling around me then exhale slowly.
I needed this. Not because work is stressing me out like it used to or anything. With one week of training and one week of actually executing my job duties now under my belt, today was busy, but manageable. Far from stressful. It's my home-life that's been taxing on me.
Saturday was actually civil, and relatively uneventful. Rainy weather forced us to cancel our plans to spend the afternoon downtown, which meant date night changed to ordering Thai and cuddling up to start binging
Easy
on Netflix. Watching the one episode where the actress's friend fucks her against the living room window spurred me to slide a hand into Travis's pants—an attempt at mending our turbulent, sexless streak with some good old-fashioned TLC. Travis took the bait and then plowed me into the armrest real good, spilling his seed in me only to pull out and get dressed without even cuddling for a little bit afterwards.
How foolish it was of me to think that a lovemaking session would lead to me waking to a warm, fuzzy Travis on Sunday morning. My husband woke up and shrugged me off when I tried to get him to cuddle. He just absolutely had to eat and get some coffee right away before he got a headache... And, just like that, it was back to our old, dysfunctional rhythm. Annoyed, I kept my distance all morning. Bickering ensued that afternoon because it was his day to cook but he asked me to make something because the Pats game was on...
When I asked for him to help me because my hands were dirty, all I got was, "
Just make yourself useful for once, Kylie. Please
." After I started complaining, he was all, "
Can we not do this while the game's on
?" Then he turned the volume up and ignored me.
Fingers crossed that getting pregnant will give him a reason to treat me better...
Sure, Sunday sucked, but that's only part of why I wanted to bath bomb it up tonight. The other reason is because my muscles are all achy after finally caving and joining in on Marcus's workout session. Also, I'm just in desperate need of pampering.
Eyes still closed, I massage my sore legs one at a time, thinking back to the exercise routine we did together. I smile to myself as I replay him dancing like a goof between lunges and squat reps.
As I work my way up to my inner thigh, a carnal urge pulses between my legs. The scents, the tingling all across my body, remembering the nights when Travis used to come home from work and drill me like he did Saturday—they all contribute to my spontaneous arousal. For whatever reason, baths have a way of getting me riled up. Probably because this is usually when I'm most relaxed. And since I tend to only use that showerhead of ours for pleasure when I'm home alone and lying in the bath, I think I just associate soaking with self-stimulation...
When my finger wanders to my clit, a memory far steamier than this bathwater flickers in my mind—a flashback to a night that I haven't thought about in forever, one that I forbade myself from drudging up from my subconscious ever again.
"Ugh
...
Why...?" I lift my arms out of the water and rest them on the edges of the tub, unable to continue jilling-off in good conscience.
***
Knowing Travis is going to bitch about the water bill after finding out that I used all this water just for a soak, I climb out of the tub at 9:50 and drain the evidence. As I'm drying off, the front door lock thuds and I jump like a startled cat. The door opens a moment later, then there's the distinct jingle of Travis's keys before the door shuts quietly.
"Trav?" I call out.
"Hey, babe!"
I slip on the sea green robe that Travis gave me for Christmas last year. "What are you doing home so early?"
"Don't sound so excited..." he snaps back.
I just roll my eyes, pulling on my lacey panties that I'm hoping he'll tug down soon.
"If you listened to me for once, you'd remember that I had to go in early to put on a sample run for rush testing..."
I sigh.
He just walked in and he's already giving me shit.
"Yeah, but I thought they'd still make you work overtime."
He doesn't respond to that.
I shimmy into my leggings then slip on my socks before leaving the carpeted bedroom for the cold wooden floors. "How was your day, babe?" I say with a smile, vigorously drying off my knotted hair. "Is your experiment going to pass or whatever?" I curl up on the couch and pull the throw blanket over me.
"Today was the same as usual..." he groans annoyedly, too focused on removing his lunch container from his backpack to even look at me. "The run was passing before I left. I'm hoping I won't have to retest tomorrow because the prep was a bitch." He sets his lunch container in the sink, squirts some soap into it, then fills it with water so it can soak. Now he inspects the unplugged slow cooker as he opens the fridge.
Shit... I knew I forgot something.
"Didn't you say you were making chili today...?"
"Sorry, I... didn't feel like cooking today..." Guilt pangs in my tummy from lying.
"You've got a cushy job now where you can watch TV in your downtime and you're done
working
by like three or four every day... Yet you
still
don't want to do anything when you get home that early? Unbelievable, woman." He flashes a snide smile.
Useless,
that's basically what he's saying...
"I ate over at Marcus's, so I figured you could just have my leftovers from Sunday tonight. That way I could cook tomorrow instead and have those leftovers last until Thursday," is what I say. Because responding with, "
Sorry, I was watching a movie with Marcus until eight and pretty much jumped in the bath as soon as I walked in,
" doesn't seem like an acceptable response right now... Or ever.
"That's fine." He places the grilled chicken in the oven to reheat, because he hates microwaved meat. So does Marcus. Phone in hand, he drags his feet over to me, kisses me on top of the head like it's a chore, then flops down into his recliner, reaching for the remote and clicking on the TV after. He clicks through the DVR then puts on that
Westworld
HBO show I can't seem to get into
.
"My day was fine. Thanks for asking," I mutter.
He side-eyes me. "Huh?"
He didn't even hear me...
"Nothing." I slink back into the room.
After hanging up my robe to dry, I pull on my grey Henley sleep top then get to work blow-drying and combing my hair. By the time I return to my spot on the couch, I'm feeling petty. Why? Because he came in all snappy and now he's not even acknowledging my presence. I try getting into the show with him, but I haven't the slightest idea of what's going on. To make matters worse, I'm stuck watching this show and he's over there on his damn phone.
"Trav, can we watch something else, please?"
"No."
"But you're not even watching... You're on your phone."
"I'm
listening
. Nothing exciting is happening."
I roll my eyes. "I could have sworn we said we were going to try to talk more after work, but here you are coming right in and ignoring me for this boring show."
"We talked, like, all weekend, Kylie..." he snaps, pausing the show. "Is there something new you want to talk about?"
"No, but that's not the point..."
"Well, then you're just being annoying for no reason..."
I fold my arms and tilt my head. "Oh, so I'm annoying now?"
"Yes. You're being annoying... I spent all day getting talked at while I was trying to work and getting bitched at while I was at my desk. And I spent all day yapping to people. All I want to do right now is relax and watch my show in peace tonight before the internet spoils this episode for me. Is that okay?"
One of my earliest memories of my father bubbles to the forefront of my mind. I was four and it was a chilly fall evening like this one. I spent all day playing with my mom after she got back from a long day of bussing tables. Later that evening, she fell asleep watching TV with me, so I went to the living room where
dear ol' dad
was watching hockey while trying to finish his bottle of Evan Williams bourbon.
"Daddy, come read me a bedtime story!" I asked.
He just brushed me off.
I kept tugging at his arm, jumping up and down. "Daddy, read to me!" I begged, still tugging. "Please? Pretty please? Please!"
That's when he swatted at me, damn near knocking me over. "Stop it, girl! You're being annoying as all hell right now! Quit being a pain in my ass and go to bed, would ya?!"
I rub the back of my neck as I rise from the couch, trying to knead out the tenseness flaring around my spine. "Fine. Un-pause it. I'll just watch Netflix on my tablet."
Travis un-pauses his show the second I step into the room. Then the oven beeps and it's paused again.
His heavy steps thump into the kitchen. "Hey, did you tell Marcus you need off Friday?" Ruckus follows as he removes a plate from the cabinet.
"What's happening Friday?" I ask as I power on the tablet and crawl under the covers.
He stops at the bedroom door. "Seriously?"
I can't help but looking as annoyed as he does. "Seriously."
"It's my mom's fiftieth birthday... Everyone's going over to spend the weekend with her."
Travis's mom hates me. Well, she doesn't
hate
me, but she's always nagging at me. I guess she does that to everybody, including her son. It's obvious where he gets it from. She often ruins every get-together with her neediness and constant complaining. When Travis is in her company, he tends to get even more testy than normal. Needless to say, summer weekends and holidays with his family are often very stressful for me. I can only imagine how things will be this time around with him being so on edge...
I don't even want to put up with him right now, so I can't even fathom committing to a double dose of this stress. Not while we're in a rough patch.
"This weekend is the indie writer's conference in Manhattan," I say. "It starts Friday... I told Marcus I'd go with him." That's a lie. Marcus invited me last week but said my attendance wasn't mandatory. I told him I'd talk to Travis about it and let him know.
"You're not even a writer, you're an
assistant
..."
I arch my brow. "And he needs
