Loving Him

Mr and Mrs Westbound

Chapter One

-Megan's Point of View-

----Alright, so I'll start off by introducing myself.

I'm 24.

Blonde hair.

Blue eyes.

I'm not that tall but I'm not considered short.

I was born and raised in Florida. And currently living here.

What else?

Oh yeah! I'm Megan! Megan Foster.

Well Megan Westbound.

Yep, I'm married!

And no this isn't one of them 'here's how I met my amazing superhero of a husband' stories. I hardly even remember what my husband's eye colour is. I was forced into this marriage. Well we both were.

My grandfather's company really needs it's butt saved and his good friend offered him a deal. Help in exchange for well... me.

Terrible I know, but I owe my grandfather a lot.

It doesn't really feel any different anyway. I don't interfere in his day and he doesn't interfere in mine. Although, he does not like the idea of me working. He wants me to stay at home and not do anything. So much for 'work hard and you'll get the job you dreamed of'. Well I hadn't really dreamed of becoming a businesswoman but with my grandfather and my father's reputation, it's kind of a given that I'll follow in their footsteps.

Who is this boring asshole, you ask?

Jay Westbound

No, he's not home. He's never home. He basically loves in that office building. Being the CEO and all but still. I'm his wife and he has duties. Why am I even complaining?

This house feels more at home when he's not around. It's far too big for just the two of us. But I like my quietness and peace.

So what do I do since I'm not allowed do anything out of my free will?

Oh I paint. Yeah I paint a lot. The good thing about Jay is that he had a room set up for me to paint. It's literally plain white. It's like heaven. Yeah it's that white. But I like how it's so bright. It adds to the serenity of the place.

Yeah, so here's my life story. ----

I wake up and feel the emptiness of the left side of this ridiculously large bed. Who needs a bed this big for one girl? It should be the two of us but he sleeps in one of the many rooms of this ridiculously large house. Like this ridiculously large room. It's like the size of a whole floor. Okay maybe I'm exaggerating a little but who dies out of it right?

I walk into this ridiculously clean bathroom and wash my face. Cleansing away all my hopes and dreams for the day. Sorry, it's a Monday. Not my day. Nobody's day actually. I wonder if Mr Grumpy Pants is home? Probably not.

After cleaning up my morning mess, I make my way down into the kitchen. And there I see it! The coffee machine! This thing is my baby. I could make love to it but that would be sick and twisted and disgusting and... I think I need some coffee.

The machine does it's magic and I take my cup out of the cupboard. Yes, I have my own cup. Who doesn't have their own cup? My coffee wouldn't taste the same without it.

Where is it? I need that cup! It's the perfect size for me and it just looks adorable. Don't judge. I know you have some secret coffee cup obsession you're hiding. I'm just decent enough to admit it.

As I'm rooting through the perfectly arranged cupboards, a voice startles me. His voice. No it's voice.

"What are you doing?" I jump, obviously I'm surprised.

"Looking for my coffee c-"

He has it. It's in his hand. The cup that says 'relax' is in his hand. He's taking a fucking sip out of my fucking cup. That son of a b-.

He raises his eyebrows, expectant of my unfinished sentence.

"Why do you have that?" I ask as calmly as I can. That's my cup.

"Have what?"

"My cup."

"This?" Placing the baby blue Pyrex glass between his hands and takes another damn sip.

"Yeah that's mine. Why are you sexually assaulting it with your mouth?"

"You jealous it's not your mouth I'm not 'sexually assaulting'?" That little fu-.

"No. I'm furious because you're infecting it with your germs."

"Germs? What are you? Five?"

"Just give me back my cup."

"I'm not done my coffee."

I mumbled an angry 'I hate you' under my breath and grab a plain white one that has 'hot coco' written on it. Yeah wrong liquid but I'm feeling extra badass today.

"By the way, Megan?"

I turn around and look up to him, raising my eyebrow.

"Rocking legs." He winks and walks out of the room.

What?

Oh.

Shit.

I realise now that I'm only in an oversized t-shirt. It was a gift from my friend Sophia. She said it was comforting. It really is. But not when my husband sees me in nothing but it.

I close my now opened mouth and pour my coffee in my boring hot chocolate cup and walk back up to the ridiculously large bedroom called mine. So he's home. I don't want him to be home.

Nothing good ever happens when he's home. Ever.

Just as I'm looking through my closet for something more 'appropriate' to wear around him, my bedroom door opens and in comes the devil himself.

"What do you want, Jay?"