He stroked her cheek, his chest rising and falling from the exertion of what they’d just done. She barely felt out of breath. If that had turned into a three-hour marathon, Emilia would have been fucking exhilarated. “That’s dumb. I need you every day.”
“Yeah, but when was the last time we were really passionate with each other?”
Jim frowned. “I thought our sex life was pretty good. We certainly do it often enough.”
“Often enough for who, Jim? You?” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m being catty. But I need you to… I don’t know, make me feel special.”
“So now I’m not making you feel special?” he asked, and pushed himself upright. “Jesus, Em, when did all this come up?”
“Just forget about it.”
“No. You started this. What am I not doing to make you feel special? I’m working goddamn crazy hours. For us and for Landon. How is that not special?”
“You know what I mean,” Emilia said, sitting upright and propping the pillow up behind her so she could sit against the headboard. “You haven’t made me feel wanted in a long time. Years, maybe.”
“So… harder sex, huh?” he said, turning so his legs dangled off the bed. He checked the time on his phone and stood. “I’m going to shower up and go in early.”
“Baby-” Emilia started.
As he headed for the hallway and the bathroom beyond, he muttered to himself, “We all have cars I paid for. A house to live in, that I paid for. And she wants to feel more goddamn special than that.”
The comments stung, and though she did work, there was a seed of truth to them. Back when she was eighteen and pregnant with Landon, they both worked because they had to. Their parents were supportive, but limited in what they could do to help. She hustled her ass off at two restaurants, and Jim was in his last year of college, working in the evenings and on the weekends to chip in. By the time the baby came around, he was done with school, and they’d survived — barely.
One night, they were too broke to afford diapers and had to ask for help from relatives to buy some, Jim swore to her as they drove back home that someday she’d have the life she deserved. It was no empty promise. In another year, he had a great job working with a construction company. In eight, they bought the house. Five years ago, the construction company folded, and he swapped to a lesser-paying job with the electric company, but they still lived a comfortable middle-class lifestyle. Emilia’s earnings from the florist’s shop paled in comparison. It was barely enough to cover the power, water, garbage, and cell phones.
When she heard the shower start up, her tears started flowing. Not because what Jim said hurt, but because of the thoughts she had when he was fucking her. She wasn’t cheating on him, not quite, but in her own mind, she already knew on some level she couldn’t withstand a summer full of advances from the boys if they were serious in pursuing her.
When Jim came back in and saw the glistening tear tracks, he stopped short of the bed, and looked ashamed of himself. “Aw, Jesus, baby, I’m sorry. I was angry.”