There you go, married, divorced acrimoniously and now living together. Who would believe it?
Oh god but it was wonderful coming home to a warm house, freshly cooked food. Shelby had taken to working from home, so living out here didn't hinder her work and she was comfortable working from my big old desk.
Life was good, we shared the housework, we got on better than we had for a long time. Yes, I still got pangs of jealousy and the occasional angry outburst that resulted in a fight, but hey that's married life, right?
The thing I missed was the writing, my book was almost finished and I was so close. But with Shell living there fulltime it was impossible and maybe that's what drove my occasional grumpy outbursts.
Life was good, we got to know each other all over again. There were some good things, Shell and I had shared a good sex life before the split but now it had gone up a notch, a big notch. Without going into too much detail now when she gave me a blowjob it was to completion, for the first time in our married life she let me cum in her mouth. I guess I should have been angry knowing who taught her that but really, I just enjoyed it.
Her love of oral sex had also enlarged to include her own enjoyment. Previously we used oral sex only as a prelude, now however she loved me to eat her muff for hours and she orgasmed time after time. Positions...suddenly we were using positions I had only ever read about. Things were hot and not just the intensity, the frequency as well. We made love every day.
Life was good. So, I was shocked getting home from work one evening to find Shelby standing in the kitchen looking upset, "Hey hon, what's the problem?" I asked not knowing if I wanted to hear the answer.
With her face twisted in a tight angry expression, she lifted up my New Writers award waving it indignantly in my shocked face, "Can you explain why you have this?"
Shit I meant to hide it away, but with the rush I forgot, it had been sitting where I left it tucked in beside the desk. I shrugged, the cat was well and truly out of the bag now, I spluttered rather proudly, "Because it's mine."
She stared at me in total disbelief, "You have got to be kidding? You are trying to tell me; you wrote that book?"
I nodded, "Yep sure did."
She shook her head, her voice laced with scepticism, "No, no, no I don't believe it, how could you write that...?"
"Shelby, I always loved writing, you've seen the award from school. I stopped writing when we met because I was intimidated by you, you are so good and I felt useless when I compared myself to you, So I just stopped. Moving out here living alone it all just came flooding back."
She looked completely bewildered, her eyes full of doubt and disbelief. I watched on as she tried to get words out. "I don't understand, all those years...I don't believe it, this can't be right...How...no I don't believe it."
I smiled as she tried to come to grips with it. She gripped the award tightly lifting it up to read. "I just don't get it. If you could write like that why keep it hidden, all these years?"
"Because I didn't know...Shell when we started going out, I recognised your talent I realised back then how good you were going to be and I felt intimidated. You were way up there and I was way down the bottom. I knew you would laugh at my feeble attempts and the last thing I wanted was for you to think poorly of me. I was trying so hard to impress you I put my thoughts about writing to the back of my mind. I was embarrassed."
She put the award down and fell into my arms and we hugged warmly, "I feel so bad that you felt that way, all those years, god am I that much of a bitch?" She breathed.
"No Shell it was just my awkward insecurities. I knew when we met that I was struggling to climb into your league, you were so much cleverer than me and so beautiful. I was just scared."
As she wiped away a tear she whispered, "My league...for heaven's sake what are you talking about."
"When we met you travelled in pretty fancy circles, your friends were all artists, writers', your friends were all from successful wealthy families, businesspeople and I was just a struggling car salesman. You were right up there hon."
"Oh, bollocks I never cared about social status, I loved you from the moment I met you."
"I didn't know that at the time did I, All I wanted to do was impress you enough to get a date."
A further look of horror spread across her face, "Then it's true, it was me after all? Rebecca was right, that evil woman in that story was me."
I nodded, "Yeah in a way, I guess my anger flowed out and writing it down turned out to be good therapy."
She reached up and kissed me, no longer friendly, it was passionate and her tears wetted both our cheeks.
"Tom I'm confused, why all the pretence, keeping your name a secret, God most writers including me would be proud to call that mine."
"The same reason in a way. You just cast me aside, turned to another man for something I couldn't give you. I felt humiliated and ashamed. I didn't know people would like it; I didn't want to give you another chance to put me down. I could picture you laughing at me. Telling all your friends how terrible it was, and I didn't want to be compared to Paul."
"What's Paul got to do with it?"
"He's the guy you turned to, he's the guy you replaced me with, and he was the one in your bed giving you what I couldn't. I didn't want to be compared to him what with him having a best seller on his hands, that would have been the last straw everybody saying I couldn't even measure up as an author."
"Oh, Tom you poor misguided soul I would never laugh at you. I have never put you down and I would never let Paul do it either."
"Maybe so but it was a chance I wasn't prepared to take."
As we sat down to dinner she asked, so have you written anything else?"
"Yeah, I'm about halfway or maybe two thirds through my second book."
She sucked her fork thoughtfully, "No...really already that far through, I'm impressed."
"Well actually I have three on the go, but that's the most advanced one."
She peered across at me sheepishly, "Could I read it?"
I laughed, "It hasn't been edited, it's only the rough draft."
"I don't care, I just want to read it."
After dinner I opened up the story on my computer and she sat down to read. I finished cleaning up the dishes, watched the late-night news and when I went in to see her, she was still immersed in the book. When she noticed me looking over her shoulder, she peered up at me and fluttered her gorgeous eyes, "A coffee would be nice."
I found some cookies, made her a coffee from the expresso machine, threw on a couple of marshmallows and carried them in.
I sat with her and drank mine while she went back to reading. She was in her own little world and I knew better than to interrupt her when she was like this, so I took the dirty cups out, cleaned up and climbed into bed.
