by Celia Crown
She is my mother-in-law, but I don’t have to like her. I don’t really like anyone except my wife and our son. I can be cordial to my mother-in-law, but that’s the best I can do for my wife. I don’t want to rip her away from her mother.
That would put a strain on our relationship. I’d rather suck it up and pretend to be compassionate than have Emmy upset with me.
Our son likes to spend time with his grandmother, and I have no problem with that. She prefers to babysit rather than be alone in the home I bought for her. And she doesn’t trust babysitters to look after her grandson properly.
That’s one thing we agree on, but Emmy thinks I’m a paranoid new father.
As if her mother wasn’t enough of a disruption in my life, Emmy is still friends with the woman from the nightclub.
Diana is her best friend.
For the longest time, I conspired to get her away from my little girl.
Then I noticed how happy Emmy is when she gets home and recounts all the stories from their time together.
I didn’t have the heart to take that away from her. Her smile is much better than tears unless I am the one making her cry.
That’s a different matter.
I get sickeningly sweet enjoyment from making her cry because I’m mean to her.
She never tells me to stop. She’s a dirty little liar, a trait that leads to spanking if she crosses that line. My hand meets her red ass every time, but she never learns her lesson.
She’s a glutton for punishment, and I’m more than happy to dish it out.
“That’s a talent you don’t often see,” someone muses from beside me.
I glance at the man from the corner of my eye. The redness on his face extends to his ears as he hiccups noisily over the swirling drink in his unsteady hand.
He burps disgustingly loud. Part of me will want to kill him if he barfs in the middle of his gagging. The man turns to his friend, and they laugh louder than the music.
This is why I didn’t want to participate in this event. Despite being invitation-only, the host is an obnoxious drunk.
It was Diana who secured the invitation at her job teaching pole dancing to rich girls. She quit the nightclub scene right after Emmy became too pregnant to walk.
Diana needed a job that didn’t require her to work nights, and her pregnancy was one of the reasons. When Emmy heard the news, she was so happy she nearly went into early labor.
Since then, they have become attached at the hip. I selfishly hate anyone getting close to my Emmy. Knowing how irrational that is doesn’t stop the spitefulness when I see them together.
“I’m a music producer,” the same man drones over his gurgling drink. “I want her to be my dancer.”
I follow his sleazy gaze to my oblivious wife. She’s swaying with the music, arm around her friend, and laughing as if nothing else exists in the world.
Diana is good at making her smile. I can look past my irksome jealousy and support their friendship.
“That’s not proper attire,” the man babbles while his friend makes noises of agreement. “I think she should lose the shawl; that’d make her movements flow better.”
He’s talking about Diana.
I relax my fists and watch my little girl spin around with a bright smile. Other dancers happily waltz to the tempo as the song slows.
“No,” the other man rebukes. “It’s the length that’s stopping her legwork.”
Wrath mutes the chorus in my ears as fiery protectiveness stirs my temper.
Diana is wearing pants. My wife is in a dress.
No, I can’t; I won’t ruin her night.
Crossing my arms tightly, the wedding band glimmers outside my line of sight. Restrained aggression amplifies the bloodthirst in my mind.
Demeaning commentary happens all the time; it was even more common when she was still working. I’m still learning to swallow my aggression when the remarks are harmless.
I attribute the violent anger to loving my wife too much. Nonetheless, it’s disrespectful of them to make tasteless sexual comments with her husband standing right here.
I look to my left and assess the deadly height if I were to knock them over the railing.
Accidents can happen anywhere, especially at a rooftop gathering.
However, I promised my family that I will protect them. I can’t honor that if I’m rotting behind prison walls.
These cretins aren’t worth risking my happiness.
“More shoulder would pass the preliminary audition.”
On second thought…
A forced cough from my other side grabs my attention. “Boss.”
I rip my gaze away from my wife and rein in my spiraling hostility. She’s so happy, so carefree under the starry sky. I suppress the desire to swing at these imbeciles and watch their eyes widen in horror before they die.
My pretty wife prances into view and grins adorably as she curls her arms around my waist.
My icy gaze moves to the two intoxicated men. They visibly swallow and hurry off.
“You look angrier than usual,” she mentions with curious eyes.
Her pout deepens as she runs a hand over my tense back, groping me more than comforting me.
She’s a tease even when she doesn’t realize it.
“Do I?” I say dryly as the song ends.
“Yes,” she retorts with a laugh. “About one frown away from committing a crime.”
I cup the back of her head, unconcerned about the sophisticated hairstyle. I want to taste her pink lips, and I will, elegance be damned.
“You know me so well,” I murmur against her smiling lips.
I sigh and lean into her small body, muffling her surprised squeal against my chest as it turns into a heartfelt laugh.
I expect to see a group of dancing guests when I open my eyes, but I get an unobstructed view of those obnoxious two men.
Irritation welcomes me back into its provoking arms.
Emmy prompts sweetly, “Which is why I told Diana we’re leaving early.”
I put my nose into her hair and close my eyes to indulge in her sweet scent. She smells delectable.
“Good girl,” I praise softly.
Time to return home and replenish my body with hers.
Finale
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