Back home, seeing Clara holding our baby, a wave of guilt washed over me.
I quickly took the baby from her, my face plastered with a pleading smile. “Honey, let me take him. You go rest.”
I was surprised. Clara, who hadn’t given me a decent look in days, actually smiled back.
Lying in bed later, my mind was full of images of making love to Clara. I turned to look at my wife’s soft, fair skin, and I couldn’t help but swallow hard. Slowly, I placed my hand on her.
She didn’t push my hand away. She didn’t get angry.
Looks like tonight I might finally get some action.
I pressed on, my movements bolder. I’d just started to lift her nightgown.
The next second, I was sitting on the floor.
I looked up, confused, at Clara, who was now furious.
“Declan, what the hell is wrong with you? We’ve had a baby for months now, can’t you just grow up?”
“Honey, intimacy is a normal part of marriage. How is that immature?”
“You’re disgusting. I don’t want to talk to you. Get out!”
Once again, Clara kicked me out of the bedroom.
Staring at the closed door, I felt utterly pathetic. Two years of marriage, and we’d only been intimate a few times before she got pregnant.
My hands clenched into fists. I wanted to pound on the door and demand to know what she was thinking. But then I remembered how all our previous attempts at communication had ended in arguments, and I gave up.
I turned and went back to the shop. Jade hadn’t left; she was alone, engrossed in her phone.
Watching her focused expression, I thought about scaring her.
But when I got closer, I never expected the sight before me to make my blood start to pound.
An adult film was playing, the couple on screen caught in a wild, uninhibited intimacy.
