Trina. Trina Shaw.
She’s one of thirteen kids.
I turn back to the photo I had my eye on before this guy interrupted me. It’s of a bunch of people, but the one who stood out to me when I first glanced at it is the same person I get to go home to tonight.
Trina, my wife and the woman I’m falling hard and fast for is front and center in a picture surrounded by people who resemble her. They all have smiles on their faces as they gaze at whoever was behind the camera.
It looks like the picture was taken in front of this place, judging by the red brick in the background.
“Every one of them took a turn working in the kitchen and behind the counter,” he goes on, oblivious to the fact that I’m focused solely on my wife’s image in the picture. “It must have been a hell of an experience growing up in this place surrounded by all that love. Herbert and Hermina Shaw are saints. They raised a group of amazing people and built up this bakery to what it is today.”
Normally, envy would charge through me when hearing about someone’s idyllic childhood and caring parents, but this time I’m grateful.
I’m grateful that Trina grew up in a home with people who loved her.
“Do yourself a favor and get a slice of the chocolate cake.” The guy standing next to me laughs. “You’ll be glad you did.”
I turn to face him again. “Thanks for the tip.”
My gaze trails to a woman standing behind the counter. I spot her resemblance to my wife right away. That has to be her sister.
I wandered in here looking for a dessert to surprise my wife with. I’m going to leave here with the knowledge that she’s part of a loving family.
Our pasts couldn’t be more different.
“You went to Dobb’s?” Trina’s voice cracks as she looks down at the pastry box on the kitchen island.
“I did.”
I don’t add anything, and she doesn’t respond, so I reach for her hand.
I wrap it in mine and draw it up to my chest. Holding it there, I lower my voice. “I saw pictures of you on the walls. You have a big family.”
Her blue eyes sear into me. “Did you meet anyone?”
“I saw Clara,” I say the name of the woman behind the counter.
When my turn came to order, she was chatting with a man who wanted to order a birthday cake, so a younger guy stepped up to help me. He wasn’t wearing a nametag and explained that he was a new hire. He dove deeper into that by sharing that he’s a senior in high school, and his mom has been a regular customer at the bakery for years.
Since he wasn’t related to my wife I didn’t stand around making small talk with him after I ordered an array of sugary treats to bring home to her, even though she likely sampled them all at some point in the past.
“My sister,” she whispers. “You didn’t tell her that I’m your wife, did you?”
If I didn’t care for her as much as I do, I might be pissed that she’s so deeply concerned about her family catching wind of our marriage, but I doubt that she’s told a soul outside the people we work with.
“She was busy with someone else, so a red-headed kid with freckles helped me.”
That brings a small smile to her lips. “He must be new. Did he do a good job? Was he friendly and polite?”
I huff out a laugh. “He was nervous as hell, but he got the order right. I see no need for him to be fired yet.”
“Clara never fires anyone.” She chuckles. “Her heart is too soft for that.”
I glance around to make sure Lloyd isn’t lurking around the corner, peering into the kitchen at us. When I’m confident the coast is clear, I place my hand on Trina’s chest between her breasts. “You have a soft heart too.”
She glances down. “Are you trying to cop a feel right now?”
I inch my hand to the left to cup her tit in my palm. I squeeze it through the silk of her blouse. “I am now.”
She drops her hand to grip my cock through my pants. It feels possessive in a way that makes me harden even more.
She leans forward to brush her lips against my neck. “I’ll race you to the bedroom for a quickie before dinner.”
Before she can say another word, I haul her over my shoulder and slap her round ass. “Quickies don’t exist in this marriage. Dinner can wait. I’m taking all the time I need.”
Chapter Forty
Trina
Graham touches his forehead to mine as he slowly undresses me. “You’re a wonder to me, Mrs. Locke.”
I don’t correct him.
There are moments, this one included when I want to be Mrs. Locke. I want to have the name, the bond, and a future with him that will last for eternity, but we have an agreement.