This fast approaching due date has contributed to my lack of ambition in writing. Why think when I could sleep or laze on the couch reading Georgette Heyer? But here's the next bit of Colton's story. He's being such a sport about all the shenanigans going on in his life. If only he knew...
500 WC Chapter 28
Word Count: 596
He woke up slowly, uncomfortable, but too tired to do anything about it.
The television was still blaring, yet another football game. Colton groaned, muting it, his headache from drinking too many beers on an empty stomach rather than the explosion.
He checked his watch. It was late, almost midnight. He shifted carefully.
Renee grumbled at him, her head on his leg. He carefully scooted out from under her, blushing. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, with her falling asleep and he staring blankly at the screen, mostly drunk and very happy to be so. Now, he was having his doubts.
He stood, stiff. He gathered up the bottles and plates they had scattered around and put them in the kitchen. Rosa would take it out of him in spades if he left a mess all over her living room. Not much of a house-keeper.
Colton reached down to shake Renee’s shoulder.
“Time for bed.” He said. “Come on, get up.”
She made a face and wiggled away.
“Renee!” he said wearily. He should just leave her. He couldn’t. His groggy thoughts coalesced into one goal: get Renee in bed. “Renee, wake up.”
She opened her eyes to glare at him.
“What?” she demanded.
“Go to bed.”
She turned her face away. He sighed, giving up. So much for his noble intentions. He did go up to her room and drag her bedspread free. He tucked it around her carefully, making sure her bare feet were covered.
A noise from the kitchen drew his attention. A phone. Her phone.
He went and checked the screen.
Stephen.
He considered sending it through the garbage disposal. He answered instead.
“Hello?”
There was silence.
“Hello?” he said again, grinning unaccountably.
“Is Renee there?” a man asked, sounding very upset and flustered.
“She’s sleeping. Who is this?”
“Stephen. Who are you?”
“Colton Savage.”
“Who?”
Colton froze. She hadn’t told him. Why not?
“Hello?” Stephen said.
Colton’s brain and his mouth seemed to have disconnected, making him reckless. “I’m Renee’s husband.”
He counted ten full seconds of taut silence before the man spoke again. “Ha ha. Hand me to Renee would you?”
“She’s sleeping.” Colton said again, a little firmer. “What do you want?”
“Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Colton Savage. Renee’s husband.”
“Like hell you are.”
Colton sighed. “Look, either tell me what you want or hang up.”
“I want to talk-”
“You’re not going to wake her up. She has a hard enough time sleeping as it is.”
“And how would you know?”
“Are you deaf or something? I’m her husband.”
Stephen swore and the line died.
Colton rolled his eyes at it rang again immediately.
“She’s still sleeping.” He knew it was a bad idea, but he popped open another beer. It was good beer.
“I need to talk to her.”
“Call back in ten hours. It’s midnight here.”
“I need to talk to her now.”
“What about?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It is now. Start talking.”
Stephen had a very rude suggestion and hung up again. Colton turned her phone off before he could call back.
He left it and his now empty bottle in the kitchen and went back to the living room.
“Come on.” He snapped, prodding his wife. “Get up.”
She complained weakly, yawning. He kept at her until she got to her feet, the blanket wrapped around her.
“Leave me alone!” she whined as he led her from the room. Her eyes were closed, so didn’t see that he steered past her open door to his.
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