Darcie's eyes scanned the dust free shelves in the living room to the spot less stainless steel of the kitchen. It was imperative to her that everything be in its place when her husband, Harold, walked in the door.She glanced at the clock and did a final walk through. In only minutes, his SUV would be pulling up the drive.
Not today, she thought as she folded her arms under her breast and leaned back against the gray granite counter in the kitchen.
She smiled as the oven timer went off and bent down to pull out her beef pot roast, Harold's favorite.
She had a good feeling about tonight. Harold had called her on his lunch break to check in. He sounded happy, requesting the roast personally. Darcie was all too willing to oblige, to do anything to make him happy with her.
As she lifted the foil from the pan, she allowed herself to be absorbed by the rising steam. She inhaled deeply. It smelled like autumn and tasted of heaven. The onions had caramelized beautifully, and the carrots and potatoes were smothered in a thick beef gravy, the roast itself visibly tender.
Darcie sliced a small piece of beef and raised the meat to her mouth, blowing it gently until the steam subsided. A sigh of appreciation escaped her lips as she took a taste of her perfectly seasoned dish. She replaced the foil just as she heard the familiar sound of Harold's car crushing gravel as it pulled up the stone driveway.
She looked into the overhead microwave and fixed a fallen strand of long, now golden, hair. Naturally black, the spirals fell past her shoulders and rested in the center of her back. Harold had been right when he said the blonde brought out her olive skin coloring and her emerald eyes. Still, she couldn't help but prefer it natural and short.
Long and blonde pleased only Harold, but God knew she'd do anything to keep him happy.
Taking a deep breath, she watched as her husband of four years stepped out of his police issued SUV and headed toward the two story garage. He held a brown paper bag firmly in his hand, bringing a frown to Darcie's lips.
Darcie couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked in his uniform. The navy blue of his pants and collared shirt made his rich azure eyes look like chiseled ice. The Captain badge over his heart glowed a bright silver in the moonlight.
Darcie watched his 6'2 silhouette disappear behind the garage and come back a few seconds later, hat in hand and the paper bag gone. He wobbled slightly, catching himself on the hood of his car, and Darcie felt her heart drop.
He paused at the top of the stoop and ran a smooth hand over his perfect mop of strawberry blonde hair. Darcie held her breath as she waited for the back door to open.
Harold liked to have her there, waiting for him. He had told her that being there for him was a wife's only job, and a damn important one. Darcie was expected to be at her husband's beck and call, starting from the time he walked in the door to the house until he went to bed each night. She was needed to fetch for him the things he wanted, rub his back and massage his feet. If Harold requested it, she was expected to make it happen with a smile on her face.
At first it annoyed her, angered her. She refused to be his personal servant. She refused to be treated poorly- like she was his slave instead of his wife.
Sadly, over time, it had become
the life she had grown accustomed to.She thought of this, briefly, and caught herself before the frown reached her eyes. Above all else she prayed the wobble was due to a missed step in lieu of liquor, and that his day had been a good one.
YOU ARE READING
Unlovable
ChickLitHe came in every night when her shift ended for two weeks. He'd drive her home in his police car, tuck fallen strands of hair behind her ear. He always smelled of old spice and hard work, and he seemed to have an intense interest in everything she...