DUTY

SEVEN

I waited through the hours of cooling twilight. I stayed awake, unmoving, never able to sleep alone, until dawn saturated the room in a subdued pink. As the sun peaked it was the glare that finally shook me. Blinding me, it tore me out of the high, shouted for me to live again.

I did, scooting back to lean up against the pillows, I checked my phone. Responded to anything urgent and went for the shower.

Tom worked more now, harder, held secrets from me. "For my own safety." He'd claimed.

But while the cat's away.

I strode down the hall, wood floors accentuating the click of my heels. Beautiful on the outside, I was empty, lost, trapped in a haze that was managed with pharmaceuticals of the illegal nature.

He was coming home today per my instruction. I wanted a proper Thanksgiving. Deserved a decent meal with my husband.

And I was going to get it dammit. Because I was Mila Preston.

Though in my head, Mila Preston was more myth than anything else. An equal counterpart to Tom would wake up flawless, work hard only to play harder and get anything she wanted without having to do more than smile.

No, I still had a bit of Scott in me as I slumped onto our kitchen barstools, a box of Froot Loops in hand. Sure, we had milk. We had everything I wanted in the fridge. Fully stocked each week. A complete waste of food. I coughed on the dry, colored sugar cereal. yeah, it tasted better with milk but there was a ring of nostalgia to skipping it.

The oven was on, roaring at some ridiculous temperature, a massive turkey stuffed inside it. I was the first to admit that I was no chef. A turkey sandwich - sure I can whip up one of those with all the toppings. A turkey with sides for ten?

No f*****g way.

Being the resourceful girl, I was, I combed the yellow pages and at the mere mention of my name, got myself a chef along with two servers. Free of charge of course.

A brand-new table, steel legged with a thick cherry rough edged top was already set and awaiting its guests. Abigail provided enough plateware for everyone, who knew what happened to her. one day I find out her husbands a mole and the next day Devon shows up talking about color swatches and bringing the outdoors in. Abigail who?

Devon was here - somewhere. Fussing about in order to make our home autumnal enough. I didn't pretend to care. one more handful of Froot loops and I slipped back into the bedroom. A half attempt to relax as I curled my hair and then I was done with my to-do list for the day.

Then I waited.

Hunter was first to arrive, same time as every day. Without looking up from my newspaper he settled down into the stool next to me, phone out headphones in. The only difference the only signal to what we were celebrated was the collar on his shirt and his hair, the part that wasn't ridiculously shaved, had lines in it that signaled at some point there was a brush running through.

I only caught bits and pieces that happened around me that day. Opening and closing of doors, the clatter of pans, screaming commercials. It all seems so trivial, pointless to remember the details of that day now. Considering.

Charlie was the first real guest, a bottle of some cheap wine in each fist, a s**t eating grin. He embraced me with a laugh and handed me each bottle. "One for congratulations, one for dinner." He told me respectively nodding behind me to Hunter.

"Wicked haircut man. You think I could pull it off?" He ran a hand through his hair and winked at me, "I know you'd approve of course."

"Of course." I said rolling my eyes and leading us into the kitchen where I added the bottles to our growing collection.

Tom brought the lot with him once I'd settled Charlie down with a glass of our most expensive whiskey. He, Elle and Emily, Hunter's wife.

Elle was beautiful, smile a mile wide, not a hair out of place in a mustard yellow plaid dress. Emily, who I knew only in name, was a surprise. Button cute with baby doll curls and eyes like saucers she was different from Hunter in every way, until she opened her mouth.

"Eat s**t nerd." She teased her husband, passing me a tray on individual pies. She jerked her thumb at him "This one thought I couldn't bake."

Hunter gave her one of those rare smiles dropping a kiss on her cheek, "Did I see a barcode on the bottom of the plate?" He asked all too innocently at which he received an elbow to the gut.

It all passed by in a blur. Tiny pies still in hand, homemade or not, I took a step towards Tom, determined to be closer. Suddenly miserable on my own, I rushed across the room. My husband, my light.

He had the wherewithal to remove the platter from my grip before letting me wrap around him. The moment the pies were shoved into Charlie's open hands we were together. Two bodies occupying space for one. No kissing. Not yet.

I just needed to hold him, remember how this thick body felt under my hands. He brushed a hand across my cheek and gave me that sexy half grin, "Happy Thanksgiving Mrs. Preston."

My heart swelled and that moment I did kiss him. My body hummed with restraint, muscles working in overdrive to keep myself from taking it further, from growling at our guests, our friends and begging tom to make me whole right there.

I would've. If it weren't cut short by a knock at our door. The last of our guests. I smoothed out my shirt as I pulled the front door wide, a blushing smile fixed on my face. It was different answering the door when your house was filled with loved ones than opening it alone.

Where I'd expected Roman with a textbook scowl, I saw a familiar jaw. "Jared." I greeted, stunned.

We stood like that, the door half open, smiling fighting to stay on our faces until Tom rescued us. Winding his arm around my waist he led me backward inviting Jared in.

And suddenly having a home filled with family felt like bragging to the man I used to date.

My invitation felt backhanded as he waded through our house picking a seat at our table and sitting down. I cleared my throat and clapped once, "I suppose we should begin." I announced.

Tom gave a squeeze to my hip, he looked away, out over our cozy home. "Aren't we missing one?"

"There's no way I'm sitting around smelling this food without eating. Just be glad I invited him. He can jump in late." Devon saw my signal and smiled, hurrying to light the candles and tea lights scattered along our table.

Odd, how despite my reservations to his company I hadn't thought Roman would be the no show. My eyes jumping to the open seat on Elle's left.

Tom and I sat the heads, the ultimate tease for us to be together and apart. My stomach already turned with excitement.

Tom raised his glass, "To health, happiness, and - "

A knock at the door interrupted him.