“You’re mad.” He sighs, going to pick up his luggage.
“No. Well, yeah, I am. I can give you a pass for forgetting our anniversary, even though we got married only two months ago, but if you think I’m going to give you a pass for every holiday because you think it’s cliché or arbitrary…” I trail off as he pulls out a beautifully wrapped box, all black with a red ribbon tied around it.
He sets it on my lap. I look up at him, and he’s smiling at me knowingly, arms folded. “You were saying, Mrs. Scott?”
A huge grin spreads across my face, and I roll my eyes at him. “You’re a jerk, you know that?” I say, embarrassed as I untie the red bow.
He sits beside me and kisses my neck as he watches me carefully remove the red ribbon. “Come on, babe, tear into it!” he urges me impatiently as he tickles my side.
“Okay, okay. It’s just so pretty.” I squeal, removing the paper, and when I see the golden-tan box that reads “Christian Louboutin,” I freeze.
He looks at me, and a wider smile spreads across his face.
“You didn’t!” I frantically open the box to see a pair of cherry-red daffodil-crystal-embellished suede pumps—the same pumps I remember fawning over after seeing Jessica Alba wearing them at some awards show I made him watch with me. “Oh my gosh! Cal!” I feel awful for being mad at him.
“Read the card,” he says with a smile, pointing at the tiny card lying between both shoes.
I open it and read the words out loud. “‘These shoes look like they’re straight out of The Wizard of Oz, but since sometimes I’m like the tornado that blew you into Oz, I guess you can wear Dorothy’s red slippers. And if I’m gone and seem lost, maybe you can do a little click and I’ll find my way home.’”
I look at him, and he looks down, a little embarrassed. “It’s corny, isn’t it?” he asks with a shy smile.
I nod and climb onto his lap. “As corny as you being my Prince Charming.” I cup his face and kiss him softly on the lips.
He wraps his arms around my waist, holding me on his lap. “Are you going to wear them for me?” he says, a lustful glint in his eye.
“I have the perfect white dress for them,” I say, running my hands through his hair.
“No dress. Just them.” He bites his lip with a playful smile, but I’ve known him long enough to know how serious he is.
“Later. I have to run and pick up your gift,” I say, hopping off his lap. I run to the console table and grab my purse.
“No, my gift can be you,” he says pleadingly, and I laugh at him.
“It will be. Tonight,” I promise again, reaching the door.
His expression looks like a sad puppy’s.
“Don’t look at me like that.” I giggle, and he comes toward me. “No. Five feet,” I say threateningly, my hand on the doorknob as I laugh. I know if he gets too close, I’ll be a goner.
“I hope you’ve gotten a lot of sleep since I’ve been gone. Because you’re going to be up all night,” he says, giving me a faux warning, and my body perks up at the thought.
“Plenty,” I say with a wink before slipping out the door.
As I walk back into the house, the television is on downstairs, but Cal is nowhere in sight. I grab the remote and turn it off. I start to call Cal’s name, but I hear him upstairs.
I make my way up and hear Cal yelling as though he’s in an argument. The intensity of his voice makes me pause, not knowing if I should go back downstairs and give him his privacy or if I should rush into the room. But I don’t hear anyone except for Cal. I make my way up the stairs and pause before I’m right next to the door.
“I’m fucking furious! I can’t stop taking it. What the hell am I going to do? You told me you were sure before I did this. This changes everything! I’m not going to stop—I might as well be, Dex! How the fuck am I supposed to explain this? I won’t. I can’t take her through that shit. Well, figure it out fast.”
My heart is pounding, and my feet feel frozen on the floor. The only thing that removes them is a thud against the wall. I try to figure out what to do. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ve never heard Cal that angry when talking to Dexter. I don’t know why, but I turn around and go back down the stairs, and when he opens the bedroom door, I pretend I’m just making my way up.
Cal comes out, anger radiating from his face. He looks down at me, and his expression changes to something else. He looks almost remorseful.
“Cal, what’s wrong? You look upset,” I say, my voice giving away my nerves.
“Um.” He exhales and runs his hands over his face, and I see that his hand is red and scratched.
I rush up the stairs and hold his wrist. “Cal, what did you do!” I ask frantically, leading him into the guest bathroom.
“Don’t be mad, but I punched a hole in our wall,” he says casually as I run water over his hand.
My head snaps toward him. “Why did you do that!” I grab our first aid kit and pull out the antibiotic wipes.
“Dex really pissed me off,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bathtub while I clean his hand.
I nod and take a deep breath. “I kind of heard you talking to him.” I look up at him guiltily.
His eyes widen just for a moment before his calm demeanor returns. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t.
“Did it have something to do with me?” I ask, sitting on his lap.
“I’m—I’m going to be gone a little more than I thought I was,” he says, his gaze on the floor.
I take a deep breath and smile. “That’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay, but it’s nothing to go punching holes in the wall over.” I run my hands through his hair. If we ever have kids one day, I hope they have his hair. It’s thick, shiny, and luscious, like hair from a shampoo commercial. “I’m a big girl,” I add, trying to comfort him, but really my heart has dropped into my stomach.
A shadow of a smile passes over his face but only briefly. “I’m not feeling too good, babe. Would it be really fucked up if we didn’t go out tonight?” he says, searching my expression.
I don’t let a hint of my disappointment show. “No, babe. If you’re not feeling well, it’s nothing we can’t do another day,” I lie with a smile.
“Are you sure? Because we can if you still want to do something. I can just lie down for a few minutes,” he says, cupping my chin and looking into my eyes as if he’s searching for my true feelings.
But I won’t let him see them. I know whatever happened during that conversation is going to have his mind a thousand miles away anyway.
“No, get some rest. It’s your first day back home, and you’re probably jet-lagged. It’s fine,” I assure him before kissing him softly.
“I’m going to make it up to you,” he says as I get off his lap and smile. “And you don’t have to sit here with me. You should call your girls and go out.” He walks into the bedroom and lies across the bed.
“I’m not going to spend our anniversary out with them. As long as I’m with you, that’s what’s important,” I say, crawling next to him.