They hadn’t spoken to each other in two days. Terrence watched Lani move around the bedroom, her eyes scanning the room as she checked for her wallet, searched for her car keys and rubbed lotion on her hands. Lani’s face looked uncomfortable and pinched. The tension stuffing the room felt awkward as Lani looked at everything in sight, except him. Terrence sighed. These childish games that they so often played were whittling away at his patience like a mouse nibbling at cardboard. He was sick of it.
“Lani.” He took a step toward her, his hand outstretched. Someone had to be the more mature one. And Terrence needed her today. The want for her quiet smile tore at his heart. There was no need to face the hostile world alone—that was why he had gotten married. Had he known it was going to be this … he would have rethought his options. “Lani, enough already.”
Lani turned her back and grabbed her pocket book.
Terrence shook his head. This is what she did—start an argument about nothing, get mad when it didn’t work out the way she wanted, and then spend days pretending he wasn’t there. So childish. Terrence headed to the bathroom and closed the door. Within the quiet sanctuary, he observed himself in the vanity mirror. It was time for a haircut; his soft hair grew quickly. He needed to shave, but could get away with the stubble for the day. There was no question, he was a handsome brother. The ladies never let him forget.
There wasn’t a day that went by when some sexy women didn’t catch and hold his eye, or linger nearby too long, letting him know he could have whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.
But he didn’t want them. Terrence had his fill when he was younger and bouncing from woman to woman was as simple as changing underwear. That was for when he was childish. When he became a man, he wanted a woman to be the wind beneath his wings. And the only woman he longed for was Lani. His wife. His sweetheart. His sexy queen. When she wasn’t pouting, arguing, ignoring and acting like a spoiled brat.
Terrence finished the Windsor knot on his striped Donald Trump tie and stepped back to appraise his ensemble. Six feet of male perfection at her disposal and my wife wants to argue about nothing. The thought made him shake his head. He stepped back into the bedroom and watched Lani’s hips as she walked in a brown tight fitted skirt, her lean legs accented by sling back pumps.
“What time will you be home?” Terrence refused to let her walk around sulking another day. She was going to acknowledge him.
Lani shrugged, still refusing to look up.
“Lani, you hear me talking to you.”
“I’ll get home when I get home.” Sarcasm dripped from her lips like word saliva.
“Damnit, Lani, how long is this going to go on?” As soon as the words were uttered, Terrence regretted them. He didn’t want to beg for her to talk to him. The question was a capitulation, a sign of weakness. Why was he groveling for Lani’s attention anyway? He shouldn’t have to. He didn’t have to.
“You don’t even get the point, do you?” Lani finally looked at him.
“All you think about is you.”
Terrence rubbed his hand through his hair. Lani sounded like a broken record, one that he should consider throwing out. “If all I thought about was me, then I wouldn’t have come to bed at all. I came to bed to be with you.”
“It’s not about that, Terrence.”
“Then what the fuck is it about?” Terrence raised his voice and his arms.