Post by Butch O'Neal on Oct 31, 2012 23:01:59 GMT -5
From any other female, this might be expected, but never from Marissa. She was a trustworthy, loving, caring, and punctual female. Yet here he sat, at a softly glowing candlelit table, set for two with a romantic single rose in a crystal vase...alone. The candles had nearly guttered themselves out and the food had long gone cold.
Shoving away from the table, he grabbed the bottle of champagne from the bucket and took a long swig of the quickly warming wine. Worry fought for airspace in his head against anger and hurt. But it was low on the totem pole tonight. He knew where she was. Safe Place.
He was understanding and patient. He encouraged her to work and to make Safe Place successful. And all he asked was that she take care of herself and keep her promises to him. Was it really so much to ask for one night a week that they spend some time together? Apparently it was. Was it too much to ask that she actually get some rest and not work herself sick? Guess so. But if paperwork and running herself ragged were more important than her health and their relationship? Fine, but he wasn't going along with that peacefully.
Draining the last of the champagne, he spun and threw the bottle at the wall where it shattered. Leaving the mess, he strode to their room, grabbing a bottle of Lag on the way. Slamming the door behind him, the bottle made a sound like a shot as he set it roughly down on the nightstand. He stripped and picked up the bottle, draining a good portion of it before sitting down on the bed. He glanced at his phone and shook his head before dropping it into his hands. He wouldn't call her. There were things he would say in this state that he would regret. It was best to wait until she got home and he'd had some time to cool down. Sighing, he asked himself the one question he'd been avoiding. If he was so mad at her for standing him up on their date night, why did he miss her so much?
Shoving away from the table, he grabbed the bottle of champagne from the bucket and took a long swig of the quickly warming wine. Worry fought for airspace in his head against anger and hurt. But it was low on the totem pole tonight. He knew where she was. Safe Place.
He was understanding and patient. He encouraged her to work and to make Safe Place successful. And all he asked was that she take care of herself and keep her promises to him. Was it really so much to ask for one night a week that they spend some time together? Apparently it was. Was it too much to ask that she actually get some rest and not work herself sick? Guess so. But if paperwork and running herself ragged were more important than her health and their relationship? Fine, but he wasn't going along with that peacefully.
Draining the last of the champagne, he spun and threw the bottle at the wall where it shattered. Leaving the mess, he strode to their room, grabbing a bottle of Lag on the way. Slamming the door behind him, the bottle made a sound like a shot as he set it roughly down on the nightstand. He stripped and picked up the bottle, draining a good portion of it before sitting down on the bed. He glanced at his phone and shook his head before dropping it into his hands. He wouldn't call her. There were things he would say in this state that he would regret. It was best to wait until she got home and he'd had some time to cool down. Sighing, he asked himself the one question he'd been avoiding. If he was so mad at her for standing him up on their date night, why did he miss her so much?
