I’m watching her trawling through her dressing-room rails in search of a dress, anything she can wear for a posh engagement party at Café Royal. She has plenty of options, loads of beautiful gowns and dresses, mostly lace . . . she just can’t see them. Because I hid them while she was in the shower.
‘Found anything?’ I ask casually as I slip on my white Ralph Lauren polo shirt, flipping the collar up a bit too cockily as I inspect my fresh face in the mirror.
Slowly, she turns to face me, her eyes raging as I spritz myself with her favourite cologne. ‘What have you done with them?’
‘What?’ I ask past my reflection, all innocent. I’m not fooling her. She’s been through her wardrobes enough since she was discharged to realise there are piles of things missing. Namely, anything she could wear for an engagement party.
Pointing back to one of her wardrobes, her jaw goes all tight. ‘All my dresses are gone.’
I turn and crane my neck, feigning interest as I look past her to the sparse wardrobe. ‘That’s a damn shame. Then we’ll have to go buy you a new one.’
‘You’re impossible.’ Nostrils flaring, she grabs a pair of jeans and yanks them up her legs before throwing, quite literally, a shoulderless top over her head. ‘How have I lived like this for so many years?’
Baseball bat, meet my stomach. I very nearly launch into a rant and remind her that she loves me choosing her clothes, yet the shred of reason I have holds me back. Because I’m not dealing with my wife, per se. I’m dealing with the woman I met who fought me at every turn. Yet I was a lot younger then, had more energy. And though I felt the stakes were high, they weren’t quite on this level. My reason is fraying fast. ‘There’s no fucking need for that,’ I snap, turning on my heels and walking away before I lower both our moods further and lose my head. ‘I just want to buy you a new dress. So fucking kill me,’ I growl at thin air as I stalk towards the stairs. Just a fucking dress. A simple fucking dress.
‘Jesse,’ she calls after me, appearing across the landing when I reach the top of the stairs. I glower, and she sighs. ‘I’d love it if you were to buy me a dress.’ She’s pacifying me. Good. I need it. ‘Any dress you choose.’
‘Any?’ With no argument from her at all? There must be a catch.
‘Any.’ She pushes the confirmation through her tight jaw with a ton of effort.
My smile isn’t victorious, just genuinely happy. She’s flexing. It’s a huge step in the right direction, a step closer to the dynamics of our relationship that keep me calm. ‘Your Punishment Fuck is cancelled.’ I extend my hand in offer, and on a small shake of her head, she comes to me. ‘See how happy you make me when you comply?’
Her quiet laugh as we take the stairs together only increases my happiness. ‘Why can’t you just graciously accept my gesture and not be such an arrogant, unreasonable twat about it?’
‘Because me being an arrogant, unreasonable twat is all part of our normal.’ Grabbing my keys from the cabinet and handing Ava her bag, I walk us to the car. ‘I’d be a fraud if I tried to pass myself off as anything less.’ I open the car door and sweep my arm out in gesture. ‘My lady.’
Resting her forearm on top of the door, she sits her chin on it, eyeing me up. ‘So basically our normal is you throwing your orders around and me obeying?’
‘If the shoe fits.’
‘What if it doesn’t?’
I dip and startle her with a forceful, lingering kiss on her lips. ‘Oh, but it does, lady. And I know you feel it deep inside you. Stop fighting it.’ She’ll never stop fighting it. And I don’t want her to. She keeps me on my toes, as I keep her on hers. It might send me wild, but every pound of my heart when we’re sparring with words is the sign I need to tell me that I am alive and she is with me.
*
The boutique I chose is the very one I followed Ava to all those years ago, the one where she bought that wretched dress that I cut off her body some days later. My choice isn’t an accident. I’m hoping it might nudge something for her, anything to give me another rush of contentment when she remembers something.
The store is full of endless suitable options. Yet Ava seems to be passing each and every one of them up. ‘I like this one.’ She pulls out a micro cream thing, not too dissimilar to the poor excuse of a dress she bought the last time we were here. It wasn’t suitable twelve years ago, and it isn’t now, either. And it has nothing to do with her age.
‘I don’t,’ I counter dismissively, taking it from her hand and hanging it back on the rail.
‘What about this one?’ A peach strappy thing is presented to me. I shake my head, and Ava rolls her eyes. ‘This one?’
‘Nope.’
‘This one?’
I toss her a dark look, and she flops to a nearby velvet couch in exasperation. ‘Surely I have some say in this.’
She’s purposely pulling out dresses that she knows will send me batty. Driving me crazy is obviously ingrained into her. ‘You love everything I choose.’ I flick through the rails and home in on something lace, pulling it out and looking it up and down. It’s fitted, will showcase her every perfect curve, and it’ll sit just below the knee. ‘Perfect,’ I declare, handing it to the assistant. ‘She’ll try this one.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The assistant scuttles off to place the dress in the changing room, and I smile, all happy with myself. Until I find I’m being glared at. ‘What?’
‘You didn’t even ask if I liked it.’
‘You said I could choose.’ I laugh, pulling her up from the couch. Her resistance is pathetic.
‘Yes, but you didn’t even consult me.’ Snatching her hand back, she marches off to the dressing room, pulling a few random dresses from the rails on her way, just to prove a point. I inhale some patience and follow on behind. She’s being defiant for the sake of it. ‘Do you like the dress?’ I ask, being quickly flashed by very displeased, puckered lips over her shoulder. But I get no answer, making me smile. ‘Well?’
‘That’s not the point.’
‘Yes, it’s the point, Ava. I have good taste and I know exactly what’ll look lovely on my wife. That dress will look lovely.’ I point to the others in her hand, the unapproved dresses. Yes, they’ll look lovely, too, but I’m likely to be arrested for murder if she wears them. ‘Those are a no-go.’ I take them from her hand and toss them aside.
Scowling at me, she yanks the curtain closed, but no sooner have I lost sight of her, I have it back again when she whips the curtain back across, her eyes wide, some kind of recognition on her face. ‘We’ve been here before.’
‘Yes!’ Both of our gripes are forgotten with the promise of another recollection. I move in closer, waiting for her to give me more.
Her head tilts, and she looks down the corridor to the store. ‘I bought a dress.’
‘Yes. Go on.’
Turning her eyes onto me, she brings her hands to her face, the strain from thinking so hard clear. ‘I bought it here! The dress you cut off my body, I bought it here in this very shop!’
‘Yes!’ Fuck me, it worked!
‘Jesse, I remembered something else!’ She virtually dives at me, and I catch her, hauling her up my body and holding her tightly. ‘That dress cost me a bomb.’ Her face in my neck, she laughs against my skin, her arms wrapped so tightly around my neck.
‘And you wearing it cost me a few heart attacks, lady.’ I’m smiling through my scolding words, absolutely beside myself with joy.
‘There’s something else.’ She wrestles free of me, her front rubbing mine as she slides down my body, her palms resting on my pecs, her eyes darting across the material of my Ralph.
‘What is it, baby? Take your time.’ I walk us across to a chaise and sit her down, holding her hands while she thinks. I’m all hunched over, trying to see her eyes as they jump across her lap.
‘You’re in your boxers.’
I shrug. ‘Not unusual.’
‘But you’re outside.’ She looks at me, the corners of her lips tweaking. ‘You’re chasing me.’ A full-blown smile breaks. ‘I’m in the dress and you’re chasing me down the street.’
It was across a car park, actually, but whatever. She’s nearly there. ‘And then . . .’
Her smile fades and she frowns. And then she gasps, jumping up from the chaise, looking down at my groin. ‘I’m pinned to the bed? You’re . . .’ Her mouth falls open. ‘You pleasured yourself and ejaculated all over me?’
I’m so fucking happy, my face could split. ‘Yes, yes, I did that.’ Except that was before she escaped in the dress. Not that it matters. It’s all a little jumbled in her head, but it’s all still there.
There’s another gasp, except this time it isn’t from Ava. We both look to the side and find the assistant staring at us in horror, before she realises we’ve seen her and makes a mad dash for the shop floor, her cheeks on fire. I look at Ava, my mouth forming an O. Ava looks at me, eyes sparkling happily. And we laugh. We laugh so hard and so loudly, the shop must be shaking under the force. Ava falls into me, catching me by surprise, and takes us crashing to the dressing room floor, where we roll and chuckle like a pair of silly kids, not a care in the fucking world. Ava’s not horrified by her new-found knowledge. Just amused, and so pleased she remembered something. I’m fucking delirious with happiness.
The sound of someone clearing their throat pulls us from our hysteria, and I prop myself up on my elbows, finding another lady looming over us, this one older than the assistant, her arms crossed over her chest. ‘I’m the store owner. Can I help?’ What she means is, can she help with ejecting us from her lovely boutique.
‘We’ll take all the dresses,’ I declare, immediately wiping the look of disapproval from her face. She starts falling over her feet to help us, though not up off the floor.
‘We have a lovely pair of heels that complement the cream dress beautifully, sir,’ she says, gathering the dresses from the hook, stepping over our splayed bodies on the floor to reach them.
‘We’ll take them.’
She’s delighted. ‘And a stunning handbag to match.’
‘Pack it up.’
‘And would madam require any accessories?’ she asks, beaming at Ava.
I push myself off the floor and retrieve my tittering wife, holding her up while she continues to chuckle. I haul her close and smother her with wet kisses for a few moments before pulling back and giving her a soft smile. ‘The only accessory my wife needs is me.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The owner disappears with our purchases, and Ava turns to mush in my arms, reaching up to kiss my cheek.
‘You’re so romantic when you want to be.’
‘I’m always romantic,’ I counter, leading her out to the front desk. ‘In my own little way.’
The young assistant’s cheeks are still flaming red, the poor thing unable to look at us. And then she does, and I flip her a cheeky wink. She disintegrates on the spot, shoving the card machine towards me as I chuckle. I see to the payment and take the bag once the dresses have been precisely wrapped in tissue paper.
‘I haven’t tried any of the dresses on,’ Ava points out, letting me guide her out of the store.
‘I know this body like the back of my hand.’ I squeeze her hip, and she jolts on a little yelp. ‘They’ll fit, trust me.’
Eyeing the bag, she bites her lip thoughtfully. ‘All of them?’
I know what she’s getting at. The lace number I chose isn’t the only dress I just paid for. ‘I’m only showing some leniency because I’m fucking thrilled that you’ve remembered something else. Consider yourself lucky.’
‘I do feel lucky.’ She’s behind me in a second, climbing onto my back, her face squished to mine. ‘Thank you for the dresses.’
‘Thank you for letting me spoil you.’ I leave the store and walk down the road with Ava clinging to my back, my heart swelling in my chest. Some of this she might be finding hard to wrap her confused mind around, but she’s taking quite well to our normal. It’s more progress. More light in our darkness.