possibilities. Was she supporting her
drug habit off of him as well as he alcohol habit. Had she always been doing
so, since she met him, or was this a recent turn of events? Did it matter? What
mattered was getting her the help she needed. Maybe then she could be the wife
he needed. A wife who could actually love him.
He’d stupidly tried to ignore the alcohol as best he could.
But he couldn’t ignore this, too. He felt like a louse for ignoring her before,
when she needed him so badly as he could plainly see now. He swore to himself
that he’d make it up to her. And Mykael was a man who never broke his promises.
In the past, he’d let his own anger get the best of him, to his shame. It had
been only once, but he still beat himself up over it sometimes, especially when
he was feeling low. He was glad he’d only let go once, but that was enough. He
was determined he was never going to make that mistake again.
One night, after Summer had imbibed too much cognac she’d
called him a “lousy fuck” and it was the last straw for him. He’d been getting
more and more fed up with her at that point.He slapped her. He wasn’t proud of
it, but he was man enough to admit it and he was man enough to vow, to her and
to himself, that it would never happen again. Maybe she didn’t believe him, he
wasn’t sure. Maybe the promise didn’t mean that much to her, but it meant
everything to Mykael.
At the time, though, she wasn’t listening to any promises,
and he’d been too stunned to make any then. At the time, she went ballistic on
him, punching him with all her strength, kicking him, and swearing like a
sailor. The girl had a mean left hook and he damn sure wasn’t paying for any
Tae Kwando lessons for her because she kicked his ass good already. No lessons
needed.
The scariest part, though, was the odd glint in her eye. That
frightened him more than anything. It was like pure hatred shining through
right then, and she acted like she didn’t even know who he was. Mykael wasn’t
some scrawny computer geek type, he could hold his own in a bar fight, though
he wasn’t a scrapper. But the girl plain out scared him. He decided then and
there he wasn’t about to piss her off again, not if he could help it.
That was the problem, though. If you didn’t really know what
you did, or if it was even you at all, how could you make sure you didn’t do it
again. Mykael felt helpless then, cold and alone. He didn’t even have his
disinterested wife to turn to. He felt more alone than he’d ever felt in all of
his life. Being alone with someone was so much worse than being alone by
yourself.
He wondered if he was codependent, decided he probably was,
but he didn’t care. He loved Summer, he still did, and he wasn’t about to leave
her no matter what. He’d figure out a way to help her, figure out a way to make
their marriage what it should be. There must be a way.
When his lady cooled down Mykael apologized, sent her the
biggest bunch of roses he’d ever seen, all in a crystal diamond cut vase. It
was vintage, of course, and had a lovely emerald green color which made the
white roses seem even more stunning. It had also set him back more than two
hundred dollars, but Mykael was not a cheapskate. It was nothing but the best
for his woman. He’d have sent her red roses, which, in his book meant love, but
he knew she favored white so he sent what she liked. He wasn’t picky. He just
wanted to make his wife happy, win her back somehow.
Summer took the vase, set it on the dining room table. While
she still didn’t speak to him, didn’t even say thank you, she seemed pleased.
Mykael thought he caught an almost smile cross her face once later that evening
when she passed by the table and he saw her glance at the flowers. It was a
start, he supposed.
He wasn’t about to give up. Not Mykael. His middle name was
romance, and he would be damned if he couldn’t win his own wife back. He had
another surprise in store. He was a
drug habit off of him as well as he alcohol habit. Had she always been doing
so, since she met him, or was this a recent turn of events? Did it matter? What
mattered was getting her the help she needed. Maybe then she could be the wife
he needed. A wife who could actually love him.
He’d stupidly tried to ignore the alcohol as best he could.
But he couldn’t ignore this, too. He felt like a louse for ignoring her before,
when she needed him so badly as he could plainly see now. He swore to himself
that he’d make it up to her. And Mykael was a man who never broke his promises.
In the past, he’d let his own anger get the best of him, to his shame. It had
been only once, but he still beat himself up over it sometimes, especially when
he was feeling low. He was glad he’d only let go once, but that was enough. He
was determined he was never going to make that mistake again.
One night, after Summer had imbibed too much cognac she’d
called him a “lousy fuck” and it was the last straw for him. He’d been getting
more and more fed up with her at that point.He slapped her. He wasn’t proud of
it, but he was man enough to admit it and he was man enough to vow, to her and
to himself, that it would never happen again. Maybe she didn’t believe him, he
wasn’t sure. Maybe the promise didn’t mean that much to her, but it meant
everything to Mykael.
At the time, though, she wasn’t listening to any promises,
and he’d been too stunned to make any then. At the time, she went ballistic on
him, punching him with all her strength, kicking him, and swearing like a
sailor. The girl had a mean left hook and he damn sure wasn’t paying for any
Tae Kwando lessons for her because she kicked his ass good already. No lessons
needed.
The scariest part, though, was the odd glint in her eye. That
frightened him more than anything. It was like pure hatred shining through
right then, and she acted like she didn’t even know who he was. Mykael wasn’t
some scrawny computer geek type, he could hold his own in a bar fight, though
he wasn’t a scrapper. But the girl plain out scared him. He decided then and
there he wasn’t about to piss her off again, not if he could help it.
That was the problem, though. If you didn’t really know what
you did, or if it was even you at all, how could you make sure you didn’t do it
again. Mykael felt helpless then, cold and alone. He didn’t even have his
disinterested wife to turn to. He felt more alone than he’d ever felt in all of
his life. Being alone with someone was so much worse than being alone by
yourself.
He wondered if he was codependent, decided he probably was,
but he didn’t care. He loved Summer, he still did, and he wasn’t about to leave
her no matter what. He’d figure out a way to help her, figure out a way to make
their marriage what it should be. There must be a way.
When his lady cooled down Mykael apologized, sent her the
biggest bunch of roses he’d ever seen, all in a crystal diamond cut vase. It
was vintage, of course, and had a lovely emerald green color which made the
white roses seem even more stunning. It had also set him back more than two
hundred dollars, but Mykael was not a cheapskate. It was nothing but the best
for his woman. He’d have sent her red roses, which, in his book meant love, but
he knew she favored white so he sent what she liked. He wasn’t picky. He just
wanted to make his wife happy, win her back somehow.
Summer took the vase, set it on the dining room table. While
she still didn’t speak to him, didn’t even say thank you, she seemed pleased.
Mykael thought he caught an almost smile cross her face once later that evening
when she passed by the table and he saw her glance at the flowers. It was a
start, he supposed.
He wasn’t about to give up. Not Mykael. His middle name was
romance, and he would be damned if he couldn’t win his own wife back. He had
another surprise in store. He was a
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