Scorched(2)

Lately, Molly’s best friends, Mannie, Vivian, and Samantha, had seen more of his wife than he had. Every moment she wasn’t with Devylynn, one of her cohorts was devouring her attention regarding the upcoming commitment ceremony. And if he was being completely honest, he wasn’t accustomed to being an afterthought in his own house. Between being a new mother and wedding planner extraordinaire, Molly’d had next to no time or energy for him. He couldn’t lie; that smarted. She’d become so obsessed with giving Armando the wedding of his dreams that she’d forgotten those vows they’d made to put each other first in all things. Hell, just this morning, he’d caught himself feeling jealous of his own precious daughter while he’d watched her hungrily nurse at her momma’s ample breasts. His own kid! He wasn’t proud of it, but he was self-aware enough to admit that they had some problems.



And three of those dastardly problems were sitting inside the house with his woman.



Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he reminded himself that all marriages had their share of challenges. According to his Nana, for every hill life offered, there would be a valley to balance it out or some sentimental crap like that. But damn, couldn’t he just get to the top of the mountain and stay there with Molly for a few uninterrupted minutes?



Nobody could blame him for how he felt, could they? Of course not, he thought decisively, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he continued to eye his wife. It wasn’t as though he was completely selfish. He’d been patient with her, dammit. He’d given her time following the birth of their perfect child to heal and rest – at least he’d tried. Was it his fault if Molly was convinced that he and their child couldn’t survive without her constant supervision? He wasn’t allowed to breathe near the baby unless her watchful eye was narrowed upon him.



Not to mention, the six-week anniversary of their tiny little miracle’s birth had come and gone over two weeks ago with very little fanfare. Both mother and daughter had visited their respective physicians and been pronounced hale and whole. It should have been cause for much celebration in Delancy Land.



Suffice it to say, nary a shout for joy was heard.



He hadn’t said a single negative word about it, but try as he might (and despite her obstetrician pronouncing her recovered), he STILL hadn’t managed to coax his wife back into their marriage bed. No, instead of tears and a temper tantrum, he’d been entirely supportive. He’d done the manly thing and resorted to an extra long shower with only his hand, his imagination, and his memories of better times for company. Okay, if he was completely honest, there’d been a few tears.



Oh, he didn’t blame her exactly. He was well aware that she was burning the midnight oil to pull off a wedding coup de grace AND get a nomination for mother of the year. If it wasn’t all about their daughter, then it was ALL about the commitment ceremony. But, he couldn’t help questioning when it could become just a little bit ALL about THEM again.



He’d been hoping that tonight would be the night they’d rediscover each other. He’d made arrangements for their kid (despite Molly’s argument that she didn’t need any time alone). The little Devyl was now happily ensconced at her grandparents’ house, being spoiled like the little princess she was. He had his supplies. Glancing down at the bouquet of roses he held in his left hand and the bottle of Merlot he held in his right, he was sure that he had the tools required to romance his wife. Now, all he had to do was get rid of the unwelcome guests taking up residence in his home.



It was definitely time to evict the squatters, he decided as he strode with a purposeful step toward his ornate front door. Letting himself in quickly, he could hear that the wedding planning was still in full swing in the living room.



Of course, he wasn’t going to allow that to slow him down.



Marching into the living room, he directed a smile toward his wife as he announced, “Honey, I’m home!”



She (and her minions), however, barely spared him a glance as they continued to pass a dark bottle from person to person.



“Mmmmm,” Sami hummed her approval as she savored the mouthful of decadent champagne happily, completely ignoring Devil’s entrance per her usual. “Molly is right, Mannie. Cristal is really the only way to go for the wedding toast. At least for the head table. We can always use the Anderson Valley Roederer for the rest of the guests. The wedding party, though…we definitely need the good stuff.”



“I come bearing gifts, sweetheart,” Devil tried again, brandishing his roses and sliding them in front of Molly’s nose.