Wifey Talk [COMPLETED, 18+]

Chapter fifty-two

SOFIA'S POV

James asks for his goodbye kiss before work, and I quickly peck his lips before shooing him off. I can tell he wants more, but I'm not prepared to give it to him at the moment. Last night with him, while amazing, just can't happen again. I know myself, and I know I'll get attached to him if it does. How could I not? And James isn't someone I should think about in that romantic sort of way. He isn't romantic; he's just into fucking. And he's really good at it, as was evidenced by last night. 

I'm sitting down and eating breakfast when I receive an incoming call. It's Ioane.

"Sofia!" He exclaims. "How are you?"

For some reason, I feel guilty about last night when I talk to Ioane. It's not like I have anything to feel guilty about because Ioane and I are not together. But I still feel bad. Almost like I should have kept my small amount of sexual experiences limited to him instead of sharing one with my husband. How crazy does that sound?

"Sofia, is everything okay? You don't look alright."

"Sorry, I'm on my period. I'm not feeling well," I tell him, curling up on the couch.

He looks at me sympathetically. "What do you normally do when you're on your period?"

"Well, I mostly eat a bunch of chocolate for no good reason," I tell him.

He laughs. "What kind of chocolate is your favorite?"

"I like Ghirardelli squares. And Lindor Truffles. The caramel ones," I say.

We talk about our other favorites too. I tell him about how much I love 27 dresses, and he tells me his favorite movie is Coco, since all he has time to watch is animation with his daughter these days. It isn't until two hours pass talking to him that I realize how late it is for him. It must be 4am his time.

"Ioane! Go to bed! You'll have to get up in three hours to set up for the farmers market. I feel so bad for keeping you up now," I tell him.

"Don't feel bad," he says. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Okay," I tell him quietly. "I'm really happy that we got to talk."

"Not happier than me. I love you," he says.

I smile at him through the small FaceTime screen. "Goodnight Ioane," I tell him.

"Good morning," he tells me.

I spend the rest of the day tidying up the house. Since I've been gone, takeout has been slowly accumulating in our fridge and piling up in our garbage. I take out the trash, clean the bathrooms, mop the kitchen, and wipe the granite countertops. By the time I'm done, I'm exhausted. I fall asleep on the couch watching TV, where James finds me hours later.

He shrugs me awake. "C'mon Sofia, I brought dinner."

I get up groggily, yawning and walking to the kitchen.

"The apartment looks so clean," he tells me. "Did you spend the whole day cleaning?"

I nod my head. "That and talking to Ioane."

~~~
JAMES' POV

I try not to think about what that fucker and Sofia would possibly have to talk about after she's left Hawaii. Why can't she just stay away from him?

We eat dinner together, and Sophia asks me how work went. My mind jumps to fucking Mara in my office. She'd shown up in another ill-fitting cocktail dress again, which was two sizes too big on her petite frame. Still, it had been easy to pull up above her hips while I fucked her from behind, so the dress wasn't a complete loss.

"Work was fine," I tell her. "Nothing exciting."

"When is the dinner with Henderson?" she asks me.

"This Sunday," I tell her.

She frowns.

"What's wrong?" I ask her.

"If it was this Sunday, why didn't you tell me sooner? I thought it was tomorrow or the day after. I could've extended my stay in Hawaii for a few more days."

I don't know how to tell her that I was jealous of her staying with Ioane. Instead, I apologize. "Sorry. I should have told you."

She regards me evenly, and then she sighs. "I'm going to bed. I don't feel well."

I finish eating while she lies down. When I go back to the room, Sofia is curled up on her side whimpering in pain. The sounds of her distress make my stomach twist.

"Sofia, is there anything I can do to help?"

She shakes her head. I pull the blanket up over her shoulders, and she closes her eyes, trying her best to sleep. She tosses and turns all night, unable to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. I can't rest while she keeps moving either. Then, in the dead of early morning, she jumps out of bed and runs to the bathroom with urgency. I run after her, shocked to find her bent over the toilet and vomiting. I hold her hair back as she empties her stomach, retching.

When her entire body is spent, she sits back and drops her head against my legs. I flush the toilet and then I help her stand up on her feet. "Are you sick? Did you eat something bad?" I ask her. Maybe it was the takeout, but I feel fine.

She shakes her head. "That happens when I'm on my period sometimes. I'll be fine," she says.

I know she reads the surprise on my face. I didn't realize that women could get so sick well on their periods. I help her back to bed. "C'mon, lay down on me," I tell her.

She sighs, curling up on my chest. Her body tucks itself into a ball, and I hold her while she shuts her eyes and slowly falls into a deep slumber.

The next four days go by quickly. Each night after the end of the long day, she rests her head on my chest and falls asleep. I hold her close while she rests, sleeping deeply myself. There's something about falling asleep to the clean scent of lavender in her hair that puts me right to bed.