Mafia's Desire

7

I laughed as Michael spun me in his arms across the living room floor. "I love you so much, Mrs. Cooper."

"I love you too, Mr. Cooper." 

We had been married for a week and it was the most luxurious week of my life. The wedding had been beautiful. I only wished that my parents and brother would've been there to see it.

Michael pulled away from me and dropped down in the recliner chair. "Will you get me a beer, babe?"

"Sure." I retrieved a bottle from the fridge and popped the cap open. I handed the bottle to him, but it slipped through his fingers and spilled all over his lap and the chair.

"Shit, sorry," I said, giggling a little as I stared at the huge wet spot on his pants.

"Fuck, Ansley!" He yelled.

I was taken aback by his hostile reaction. "I'm sorry. It was an accident."

His eyes were angry as he regarded me. "This chair cost me four thousand dollars! Don't be so fucking careless!"

"You're the one who spilled it, not me," I defended.

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him. "Clean it up."

My eyes widened at the anger in his voice. I'd never heard him that angry before. When he let my wrist go, I rubbed at it, trying to soothe the soreness from his tight grip.

As I thought back to that day, I squeezed my glass in my hand. He'd yelled at me before then, but never so aggressively. That was also the first time he had hurt me physically. It started very simply with harsh grips on my wrists and arms before transitioning into punches he threw at my body.

My grip on the glass was so tight that it shattered.

"Shit," I cursed, watching the glass spread across the kitchen floor.

I picked three shards from the skin of my hand and pressed a paper towel to the cuts to prevent drops of blood from staining the floor.

"Shit," I said again, frustrated with myself. Frustrated with Michael.

Walking to the small closet in the bathroom, I grabbed the broom and a dustpan and swept the glass shards off the floor. I guess I deserved that after buying cheap glassware.

After throwing the glass in the trash, I went to the bathroom to wash the blood off my hands. Then I placed a bandage over the cuts.

"Fuck!" I screamed out of complete frustration. I wasn't one to curse much. I did occasionally, but it wasn't language that I liked to use. I'd just been stressed and exhausted lately, and my emotions were getting the best of me.

Not to mention, I had a doctor's appointment in ten minutes that was in the next town over. Searching for all of the shards of glass had caused me to waste fifteen minutes. I was going to be late.

Hurriedly, I locked my door and ran down the stairs, bounding as fast as I could to my car. I drove twenty over the speed limit to get to the appointment as quickly as I could. Luckily, I was only five minutes late.

I anxiously thumped my feet against the floor in the waiting room. I was at my 12-weeks appointment and my emotions were haywire. I was excited but nervous. Happy, but scared. Hormonal and exhausted. I loved Walnut so much, but they were taking a toll on me. I supposed all pregnant women went through the same emotional roller coaster.

"Anna?" The same nurse who was there at my eight weeks appointment called my name.

Following her back the hallway, she led me to a room and took my vitals. "The sonogram tech will be in to see you shortly."