My Peace (Beautifully Broken 5)

“Thanks,” I tell her, my fingers wrapping around the new pill bottle. They are more precious than gold to me right now.

I am antsy for her to leave, and when she does, I swallow four pills, after chewing them. It makes them hit my bloodstream faster, and God, when they do… sweet relief.

It doesn’t take the pain away completely, but it takes the edge off and makes it bearable.

An hour later, Mila texts.

Did you call the doctor?

Yes, babe. Surgery in a couple of weeks.

Thank God! She answers. I love you.

It’s only been an hour, but I take another pill.

I’ve got to pace myself, I know, but they help. They really do. They seem to make my mind fuzzy, too, and for some reason, right now, I like that. It also distracts me from the pain.

I put the bottle away, and don’t even look at it again until I leave for the day.

I take another pill in the car.

That leave twenty-four in the bottle. And then one more refill of thirty pills.

I make a mental note.

This blown-out knee business is no-joke.

I notice that Roger isn’t taking

me toward home, and I ask him about it.

“Oh, sorry sir. Your wife instructed me to take you to her instead.”

“And where is she?” I feel stupid having to ask.

“She’s waiting for you for dinner.”

“So, it’s a surprise, then?” I’m wry now. My wife loves random surprises.

“Yes, sir.”

I sit back and wait, and it’s not too terribly long before we’re pulling through the gates of a park on the outside of town. The car glides silently along the quiet street until we stop in front of a glistening lake.

There are Japanese lanterns hung from here to the water, where a fancy tent is set up, and my wife waits by the doors. I know she did all of this herself. It’s not like her to ask the staff. So she and Maddy must’ve worked all afternoon.

Not only that, but she looks stunning in a black cocktail dress, simple and snug. It fits her perfectly. Her hair cascades down her back, and I can see her smile from here.

I’m already grinning as I walk down the softly lit path, and when I reach my wife, I kiss her hard.

“Welcome to dinner,” she tells me softly, and my hands glide up under her dress to her perfect ass.

“Ah-ah-ah. Not yet. First, I feed you.”

She pulls away, and I examine the tent. Silk drapes everything, and cushions cover the floor. It looks like something out of a middle-eastern harem, fancy and expensive. It’s inviting, and all I really want to do is lay my wife down on the silk and fuck her.

But.

I don’t.