“Are you going to paint in here?” she asked, letting that statement go.
“Yes, wife. What color do you want?” he asked, heading for the kitchen.
“Stop that. “She said, but then gave her opinion anyway, after all he probably had no idea what colors to go with, and the walls were right now a bizarre greenish-yellow color, “I would go light. Mostly some shade of off-white.”
“Are you going to help me pick out paint?” he asked as he set her beer down on a box he’d moved close to the couch.
“I don’t have time. Through Friday night, I’m busy with the carnival,” she explained as she sat up and took a drink of the beer, then held it so she could lean back into the couch again.
“How about Saturday?” He sat down next to her.
“Can’t, I have a date in Grand Forks,” she said. Shit, she wasn’t going to tell him that.
“A date or adate?” he asked with a frown.
“Kind of blind date,” she admitted as he took her beer from her hand.
“Who is my wife blind dating?” he asked, taking a drink of her beer—a big one.
“A friend of Ruston’s. They’ve been trying for weeks to make this happen, and I’ve been putting it off.” She took her beer back and held it away from him. Wondering why he was so upset with her dating. It wasn’t like their marriage was real.
“Because you’re married?” he asked, still angry.
“No, because I really didn’t feel like it. I met the guy a few weeks ago, and Hazel said he’s interested in dating, but I’m just not feeling it.” Maybe the connection wasn’t there because she had been married for over a month now, and it was feeling more real than she’d liked to admit. Or at least real enough that dating seemed like something she shouldn’t be doing.
“So, you’re going on a date as a married woman?” He wouldn’t let it drop.
“Yup. It’ll get Hazel off my back for a while at least.” She admitted the real reason for saying yes as she finished the beer and put it back on the box at her feet. Who knew Hazel could be such a nag? And what was she supposed to say? I can’t go out with this guy because I’m married and it feels weird?
“So, you don’t want to date him? Because you’re madly in love with your husband?” He held out his arms wide for a big hug.
“God, no, I just spent eight hours as his slave and only got a cardboard pizza and cheap beer for my efforts,” she said with a laugh.
“You just drank the best beer in the house.” He pointed to it, but it was empty.
“But only one. The least you could do was have two in the house. If this were my house I would have two.”
Taking the hint, he got up to get her another one. By the time he got back, she was once again lying out on the couch with her eyes closed. She heard him leave the room again, then come back, half expecting him to throw a blanket on her. But instead, she felt his hands slide under her body and pull her into his arms. Then he lifted her into the air.
Her eyes popped open, and she grabbed him around the neck in case he was going to drop her. “What are you doing?”
“If you’re going to sleep, you might as well do it in a bed,” he told her, shifting her slightly.
“You’re not carrying me to bed! Your bed?” she exclaimed.
“Yes I am. You seem tired.” He started up the stairs.
Mia grabbed on to him tighter, knowing he was going to drop her on the stairway. “You’re going to drop me.”
“I’m not.” He tightened his grip on her.
“Yes, you are. I’m fat.” She silently prayed he didn’t drop her on the steps.
“You’re not fat, Mia. You’re perfect.” He made it to the landing with ease.
“I need you to call my mom and tell her that,” Mia whispered, letting go of her worries as they made it to the top of the stairs.
“Any time.” He kissed her head. “I’ll tell anyone and everyone how perfect you are.”