Married on Mondays by HoneyB

Author:HoneyB [HoneyB]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: FIC000000, General Fiction, cookie429, Kat, Extratorrents
ISBN: 0446582336
Publisher: Grand Central
Published: 2010-03-24T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 27

Winton

Sometimes a woman had to confront her husband head-on when her talking, crying, begging, having an attitude, and withholding sex hadn’t gotten his attention. His wife was miserable, lonely, on the verge of an emotional breakdown, and he hadn’t cared for three years. Not once had he asked Foxy, “Baby, are you okay?”

Nothing Foxy had done had gotten his attention until he’d learned she’d made a fool of Winton Brown. Lied to him about Dallas being her cousin. She was engaged to that motherfucker. Giving his pussy to a man she’d convinced him to represent… for free! Men were sleazy. Women were scandalous.

Thursday night he’d made it home before ten o’clock, not to appease his wife, but to see if she’d have the decency to bring her cheating behind home at a respectable hour. Women. Her lying ass actually said, “I’ll see you when you get here,” like she was at home. No wife of his was going to fuck around on him.

It didn’t matter if he was irrational. If he had another woman. If he was being vengeful. His wife should’ve realized she married a man and not just any man. Foxy Montgomery, a waitress at a pastry shop, snagged Winton Brown, the number one attorney in the damn country. She should’ve realized her place. And she should’ve kept her legs closed. Even if he wasn’t fucking her, that was still his pussy. The rock on her finger, the license filed at city hall, the house she lived in all meant she belonged to him.

He clenched his teeth. Flinched his jaws. Winton needed a strategy. Could a love lost be renewed? Maybe if he tried dating his wife like he’d done before he proposed, he could learn to be the husband he once was. What had made him stray? Oh, yeah. No kids. Her refusal to have his child was the demise of their marriage and solely her fault.

For the first time in years, Winton entered his house on a Saturday night. The living room was dark. He flipped the light switch. The first order of business was to remove the four white wedding photo albums from the living room mantel. He stacked them in his arms. If the fireplace was lit, he’d have burned the albums to a crisp.

Winton glanced around a room he hadn’t stood in for months. He checked to make sure the DVDs of the wedding and the CDs with all the pictures were in the back sleeves. The photo album opened up to pages with pictures of Dallas with Victoria, DéJà, and Foxy. He’d feel better if Dallas was an ugly man, but the brother was handsome.

“Fuck Foxy and her family, keeping this shit from me.”

A dim hallway light led the way to the dark bedroom. Entering his wife’s bathroom, he considered moving her to one of the guest bedrooms. Or he could put her ass out. Winton turned up the track lighting, sat the photo albums on the vanity, removed his clothes, filled the spa tub with warm water.

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