All the Details

Amaya

I sipped on the coffee and waited for my husband to come out of the shower. I couldn’t help but think of him in there all alone and wonder what would have happened if I’d slipped in there to join him. It was a tempting thought, but I was still a little nervous about thinking of us together that way. He was so hot, so cut, and I felt like I’d been squidged into my clothes in comparison. Maybe that’s why he’d picked me to stick this out, because he thought he could see me as a wife compared to the, no doubt, supermodels he likely dated before me.

Wife. Husband. There were those words again. I knew they were accurate, nothing more than accurate descriptors of what the two of us shared, but they didn’t sound right in my brain. I had lain awake the night before in that enormous bed in that big, empty white room and wondered about the two of us together. Husband and wife, wife and husband. A married couple. I was living in my husband’s apartment, waiting for him to come out of the sho