Goody Two Shoes (Invertary 2)

She didn’t say anything. Andrew waited for his wife while he toyed with the bows on her underwear. He tugged at one. Nothing happened. They were decoration. Typical.

“I told you what I need. I need to live.” She turned her face away from him. Andrew didn’t like that one bit.

“So we live.”

“Yeah,” she scoffed. “Like you’ll change.”

Damn right he was changing. He’d bought a suit. He had sex toys. He’d booked an over-the-top romantic trip for two. What was that if it wasn’t changing? He felt a bit miffed that he wasn’t getting the credit he deserved.

He’d tried the kinky sex route, and that was a failure. It was time to put the suit to its proper use and go all arrogant bastard on her. He whipped off her blindfold and watched as she blinked at the light.

“Now you listen to me, woman. There will be no divorce. There will be no argument. We’re selling the house in Florida and moving somewhere else. I haven’t figured out where yet, but Florida isn’t working for us. You will let me back in to your bed. You will not flirt with any other men. Ever. And there will be no more talk about divorce.”

Her eyes narrowed. He’d seen that look before. It didn’t bode well. “Is that right? Will I do all of those things? Let me think.” She pretended to consider it when it was obvious that she already had the answer. “I think not.” She glared at him. “Where do you get off telling me what to do? Am I your slave? Your employee? Your child? Who told you that you know better than I do? I’ll get a divorce if I damn well want to. And I’ll live where I want to. And you’re not getting back into my bed. Ever.”

Crap. This wasn’t going as planned. According to the books, she would crumble in the face of his masculine power and gratefully accept his word as law. He was beginning to doubt the books. He rubbed his jaw. It was time to try the last weapon in his arsenal—the big romantic gesture.

He reached into his suit pocket and came out with the brochure he’d gotten from the travel agent. “I booked a trip for us.” He handed it to her, then realised she was still cuffed to the table. He considered letting her loose, but decided it was best to keep her there. Otherwise she might run away and he wouldn’t get to tell her about the trip. He held the brochure in front of her nose and flipped the pages for her. “See? It’s a three-month tour of Europe. We go to all the romantic spots you’ve always wanted to visit. We probably won’t see much because they’ll be crowded with tourists, but what the hell? Look, Venice, Rome, Prague, Paris. We’ll need to deal with the French, but you can’t have everything.” He waved the brochure. “What do you think?”

She sighed heavily. “Let me loose. I won’t run.” It was as though she could read his mind.

Reluctantly, he freed his wife. Helen rubbed her wrists before swivelling on the table to sit facing him. She started to pull her dress together and button it. He put up a hand to stop her.

“Please don’t. You’re beautiful.”

She stilled. “Andrew. I’m a fifty-five-year-old woman who’s overweight. I have lines and cellulite. My boobs sag. I’m not beautiful.”

Oh, the stupid woman. He placed a hand on the table on either side of her and stared deep into her eyes. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world to me.”

She scoffed. “Don’t be daft—”

He pressed a finger against her lips. “Don’t. Don’t say it. I mean it. You are perfection to me. You always have been and you always will be.”

Her eyes gl

istened with unshed tears, and Andrew’s heart shattered. What had he done? Had he really let her go for so long without letting her know what he saw? He was the fool.

At least he could change that now. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you this enough over the years. I mean it. I’m not saying it because I’m scared of being old and alone. I’d rather be alone than have any other woman. You’re it for me, Helen. And you are beautiful.”

A single tear fell down her cheek.

“I don’t need all of this.” Her voice was soft. “I don’t need the grand gestures, the kinky sex or the personality change you’re sporting.” She looked up at him as the tears fell. “I just need you. I can’t stay with you if you’re only going to grunt at me and hide in our house. I can’t live like that.”

“I won’t do it anymore.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “I’ll talk. I’ll go out. I might complain about it. But I’ll try.”

She didn’t look like she believed him.

“Give it a chance,” he said. “Give us a chance. I love you so much, honey. Don’t walk away.”

With a sob, she wrapped herself around him and buried her face in his new silk shirt. Andrew held on to her, rubbing her back and cooing nonsense to comfort her. His heart was aching. He’d been a fool. An old fool. Hiding from the world and hurting his wife. He had a lot to make up for. A lot of damage to fix. He just hoped it wasn’t too late.

He kissed her hair. “Please give me another chance. I might still be the grumpy arse you married, but I’ll try. I’m already trying. Look at my suit.”

She let out a strangled laugh.

“I really don’t want to live in Florida anymore.” He was sure of that, at least.

“I don’t either.” Her voice was muffled against his chest.