Arranged: a Steve Rogers story

Chapter 31

{3 months later}

Smut warning

"Hey. I'm gonna go down for work." Steve said. He kissed my cheek as I put Oliver down.

"Umm. It's 9:00 at night." I said.

"Yeah. I've got paperwork." He said. I nodded lightly and watched him walk out of the room.

This has happened almost every weeknight for the past two weeks.

I heard the elevator ding. I watched as Oliver closed his eyes lightly. I shut off his lights and closed his door.

I sighed softly.
I wanted to know what Steve was really doing. I just don't want to invade privacy.

Steve and I had been going to therapy. Separately. I had felt a little better, but I still felt some sort of hole in me.

I sighed and cleaned up some dishes, washed off the counters, swept.

I picked up Oliver's toys on the floor. I don't know when Steve will get back. I'll probably end up falling asleep.

"Friday?" I asked.

"Yes Mrs Rogers?"

"Confidentiality mode. Where is Steve Rogers?" I asked.

"Mr Rogers is in his office apartment." The sound system said.

"Thank you." I said softly.

Is this what I have been suspecting?
Steve?
No. He was to innocent. Hell I was his first and he could've lost his virginity a long time ago.

I don't think so.
Stacy?
I don't know.

I grumbled to myself and sat on the couch. I looked at the ring on my finger. The wedding ring that Steve picked out himself. I've had it on for over a year now.

I laid my head back on the couch and looked at the ceiling.

I loved Steve. I did.
But was this what I most feared? Was he bored of me?

Maybe I'll put on that lingerie that he picked out. Maybe I'll try to be sexier. Then he will like me.

No.

"Confidentiality again Friday. Where is Stacy Wills?" I asked.

"Mr Rogers office ma'am."

"Fuck." I said.

I grabbed a bottle of wine and went out on the patio looking out on New York.

Fuck fuck fuck.

I sighed and sat down on the wall.

I sat there. For an hour. I had drank a little bit of wine. Not much tho. Just enough to take a little edge off but not hammered drunk. I was still sober enough.

I just watched New York City.

"Hey there you are. Why are you sitting outside...with wine?" Steve asked.

I scoffed and continued watching New York.

"Shut the door." I whispered.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Shut the fucking door are you deaf?!" I screamed.

He came out but shut the door. He sat by me and took the bottle from my hands. I scooted away and didn't say a word.

"Hey what's going on-" he asked as he touched my knee.

"Don't fucking touch me I don't know where your hands have been." I said and got up, going inside.