Page 2 of Checkmate
“Ah. That explains the opal,” Sophie said, looking up at him with a small smile. “This was such a thoughtful gift, Marcus. Thank you.”
“And you’re sure you like them?”
He glanced down at the matching earring and necklace set. He’d paid more than he could afford to have the damn thing repaired, and he’d hate to see his efforts go to waste.
Sophie didn’t have too many nice things to say about her childhood. Too many years of strict regimes and no friends had left her with a bucket of lonely memories. Her grandmother represented the one constant source of happiness in her youth. He had hoped her jewellery would bring her those same positive feelings.
“How could I not like them?” she said, leaning towards him to kiss him lightly. “Thank you, Marcus.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He smiled against her lips, pulling her in for a longer and more lingering kiss. “I love you.”
“You too.” She pulled back and offered him a smile. “Now, I should get ready for work.”
He glanced at the bedside table and frowned. “It’s not even six yet. You’ve got time.”
“Yeah, but now that I’m up, a nice long soak in the tub sounds amazing.”
“We could share a shower,” he replied, somehow already knowing the answer. Right on cue, her nose scrunched up as she made an almost sympathetic sound.
“Sorry, hon. Maybe tonight, yeah?”
“Sure thing, Soph.” He held back a sigh and forced a smile. “Enjoy your bath.”
“You wouldn’t mind cleaning all this up, would you?” She asked, clicking her fingers at their discarded meal. “I am the birthday girl, after all.” She jumped out of bed, giving him a finger wave. Leaving him to his thoughts, she left the room.
How long was a normal dry spell between couples?
He felt like he had been trying to initiate some intimacy with Sophie for months now, to no avail. It wasn’t even about sex anymore. He just wanted to be with his wife and enjoy affection beyond quick pecks.
They were only four months into their second year of marriage. Surely this wasn’t normal?
He wasn’t a horndog that demanded sex all the time. Hell, who had the time these days, anyway? But once or twice a week didn’t seem like too much to ask. He’d even take once or twice a month at this point.
But of course, Sophie insisted there was nothing wrong. They were both busy people and a lull was normal. Whenever he tried to communicate his needs to her, she berated him as a sex pest and made him feel so gross that he’d give up as soon as he began.
With a sigh, he gathered their plates, left mostly untouched, and padded through the flat to the kitchen.
He was still cleaning when Sophie reappeared, wearing only a towel as she searched the laundry pile for some clothes.
“Did you wash my blouse, babe?” She asked, throwing clothes across the room.
“It was your turn for laundry,” he reminded her. “Your blouse is probably still on the dirty pile.”
“Well, what am I supposed to wear now?” Her voice shrill, she turned to him, hands on her hips, ever petulant. Moments like this reminded Marcus what a young twenty-five-year-old she was.
While other women her age would find something else to wear, Sophie was on the edge of a breakdown.
Another product of her youth.
With that sobering thought, he replaced the dish towel on the rack and moved towards her, pulling her into his arms.
“Wear whatever you want, baby. You’ll knock their socks off, regardless.”
“Do you mean that?”
How could he not? She could wear a bin bag and look good. “Of course I mean it. Now go back to the bedroom and look in that wardrobe of yours. You’ll find something you forgot about and turn it into your new favourite work outfit.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, offering her first genuine smile of the morning. “You always know the right thing to say, Marcus.”
