Desiree
He comes home hours later. The sun has set, and he undressed silently. He looks...pensive. Maybe I should offer him a massage? I can't cook for s**t, but maybe some wine?
I frown. He really looks concerned about something. I clear my throat.
"Are you...okay?"
He sets his gun on the table, staring at it instead of meeting my eye. "Are you happy with me?"
Where on earth did that come from?
"I guess I'm a bad husband for never even asking that," he chuckles softly.
"I'm very happy with you."
He sighs, strong on the bed. "I feel as if...somehow...I've failed you."
Has he been keeping this inside him? How did I not notice?
"I think..." he smiles. "I think I'm a horrible husband."
"Of course you're a wonderful husband. Where is this coming from?"
He runs his hands through his
