When the Biker's Wife Stopped Caring

Elaine's POV: I didn't answer my husband, Malcolm Crowe. Five years into our marriage, I was still Elaine Crowe on paper, but I no longer felt like his wife. I switched off the garage lights and climbed the stairs along the side of the building. He followed me, his boots hitting the metal steps harder than usual. Once we were inside, he stopped me again, irritation creeping into his voice. "Why aren't you even asking about it?" I dropped my keys into the little dish by the door and gave him a tired look. "Haven't you always said I overthink everything?" Malcolm frowned. He wore a black leather vest, the raven emblem on the back dark with rain, droplets still clinging to his shoulders. "Ruby just needed help. Her car got towed, so I gave her a ride back. That's all." "Okay." "I promised her father I'd look after her. Why do you always have to..." He trailed off. I set his glass beside the sink and said nothing. "Elaine, what exactly do you want me to do?" "I don't want you to do anything." Thinking of the earring downstairs, I added, "Do you want to take it back to her now? That way she won't come looking for it in the middle of the night again." Malcolm's expression stiffened. Ruby Bellamy had come looking for him after midnight twice before. The first time, she'd left her keys in the storage box on the side of his bike. At midnight, she rang our doorbell. "My roommate's asleep. I can't get in." Malcolm retrieved the keys for her, then went out and drove her home. Two weeks later, I found a tube of lipstick in the pocket of his leather jacket. It was pale pink, with Ruby's initials printed on the cap. When Malcolm saw it, he casually took it from me. "She left it on the bike last time." He said it so naturally that I didn't even know where to begin. That night, Ruby came by again. She stood at the door and held out her hand to him. "Malcolm, my lipstick." Malcolm pulled it out of his pocket and placed it in her palm. "Stop leaving your things everywhere." Smiling, she touched a finger to his chest. "But you always keep them safe for me." I stood awkwardly to one side, unable to force even a polite smile. As soon as she left, I stared at the pocket of Malcolm's jacket. "Why didn't you leave it in the garage? Why did you have to carry her lipstick around with you?" Malcolm looked baffled. "I put it there without thinking. Did you want me to throw it away?" "I didn't say that." "Then what are you trying to say?" I looked at him for a long moment before speaking. "Did she really have to come here in the middle of the night for a tube of lipstick? Why do you always indulge her?" Malcolm glanced at the clock on the wall. "How late are you planning to keep arguing with me over something like this?" He rubbed his brow impatiently. "She genuinely wants to learn. Elaine, can you stop obsessing over me and her every minute of the day?" I looked at my paint-stained hands. Hurt closed around my throat, leaving me unable to speak. I had once wanted to open my own studio, specializing in custom motorcycle artwork. But during those years, I had turned down most of my commissions to help him keep the garage running. "Elaine." Malcolm's voice pulled me out of the memory. He was watching me as though waiting for me to continue interrogating him about Ruby. All I wanted was a shower. I turned toward the bedroom. Just as I was about to close the door, Malcolm suddenly raised his voice. "Today is our wedding anniversary." My hand stilled on the doorknob. "Five years. Don't you remember?" If he hadn't brought it up, I truly would have forgotten. For the past few years, he'd always been busy—a customer needed a bike finished, the club had a ride planned, or a show demanded his attention. On this day last year, I reserved a table by the window at a restaurant and waited for two hours before finally calling him. Ruby answered. "Elaine, Malcolm had a few drinks with the sponsors. I'll have him call you back once he sobers up." When we were newly married, I once picked up Malcolm's phone by mistake, and he'd taken it back with a dark look. Sitting alone in the restaurant, listening to the laughter on Ruby's end, I asked, "Does he know who's calling?" "Of course he does," Ruby said, and hung up. "Ma'am, would you like us to bring out dessert now?" the server asked beside my table. I forced a smile. "Just a little longer." But the anniversary dessert still ended up in a takeout box. I ate dinner alone that night. When I got home, Malcolm glanced at the unopened gift, irritation written all over his face. "I'm exhausted enough already. Can you please stop creating problems?" Returning to the present, I looked at Malcolm. "I forgot." He froze, the faint expectation on his face slowly disappearing. I didn't look at him again. I went into the bedroom and closed the door. The anniversary gift he had prepared sat on the table, tied with a beautiful ribbon. I didn't open it.