Commitment

by K. M. Golland

  ‘As right as rain. How can I help you?’

  ‘I was hoping your head of security was lurking about.’

  ‘Dale?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘I haven’t seen him, but I can give his phone a buzz and check for you if you’d like?’

  ‘I’d like it a hell of a lot, Liam. Thanks.’ I gave him a double eyebrow raise and turned to my side, leaning on my elbow on top of the reception counter.

  Liam picked up the phone and pressed a few buttons, shaking his head impatiently. ‘Dale, it’s Liam at front desk. I have Tash’s husband here to see you.’ Liam frowned. ‘Oh, I’m not sure. I’ll ask.’ He covered the phone with his hand. ‘What did you need to see him about?’

  Maybe the fact that he wants to stick his dick inside my wife? ‘I want to thank him for organising a replacement cake for Tash.’

  Liam tilted his head and mouthed ‘Aww’ as if I were an adorable puppy. ‘He’d like to thank you for Tash’s cake,’ he repeated.

  I winked. If only he knew.

  ‘Okay, will do. Thanks.’ Liam hung up and quickly jotted something down on a piece of paper. ‘Right. Use those elevators over there,’ he instructed, leaning over the counter and pointing to a set of four elevator doors to my right. ‘Swipe this card on the security scanner and head to level five. When you get out, turn left and head down the hallway until you reach a door that says Security Operations. Push the button and wait for Dale to let you in.’

  I took the white security card from him and said, ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Wish Tash a happy birthday for me, yeah? I missed seeing her yesterday.’

  ‘Sure, will do. Thanks, Liam.’

  He gave me a ‘twinkle twinkle’ finger wave, and I found myself doing the same, immediately dropping my hand to my side when I realised what I was doing — the kid’s enthusiasm was contagious.

  I made my way to the elevators and in no time was five levels higher and standing outside of Security Operations. Without hesitation, I pushed the button beside the door and waited, squaring my shoulders, ready for what I’d come here to do.

  The door opened and Dale stepped out, white shirt on, collar open, sleeves rolled up. He wasn’t as tall as I remembered, which was a good thing when I swung my fist at his jaw before he had a chance to speak.

  The bastard stumbled back and raised his fists, instinctively, and the fact that he was head of security and trained in many forms of combat wasn’t lost on me. But Tash was my wife, and I’d take on any arsehole who placed his hands and mouth on her. The fucker could be Dwayne Johnson and I’d have done the same thing.

  ‘She’s married … to me!’ I seethed, ready for his retaliation.

  He touched his lip, the tip of his finger coated with blood. ‘I know.’

  ‘We’re happy. I won’t let you mess with that.’

  His body language relaxed from its defensive stance. ‘I don’t want to mess with anything, Dean.’

  ‘Then leave her the fuck alone.’

  Dale applied pressure to his lip and mumbled, ‘I have.’

  ‘Good.’

  The two of us stared each other down for what seemed like minutes when, in actual fact, it was only seconds, before I turned around — because I was done with the bastard — and called back to him as I walked away. ‘Thanks for the cake.’

  My plans for the rest of the day were to forget that any of this shit had ever happened. I’d get a room for the night and go home the next day. All I wanted to do was drink beer, watch some footy, then repeat.

  * * *

  The next morning I woke up in a bed I’d been sharing with a few empty bottles. The TV was blaring an American football game — the New England Patriots versus Chicago Bears — and I had the driest throat this side of the Sahara Desert. I stretched and blew off a morning thunder, knowing an After Grog Bog wasn’t too far away. It was a given — the one certainty after a night on the piss.

  ‘Food,’ I grumbled, rubbing my belly and lifting the silver dome thing off the room-service plate that had my pizza on it from the night before.

  A half-eaten slice and three crusts remained. Excellent. It would tide me over until I ordered breakfast.

  Grabbing a crust, I shovelled it into my mouth and picked up my phone, finding several messages from Tash. I was about to hit reply when I noticed a new app on my phone. My Game Stats app? What the fuck?

  I hadn’t downloaded any new apps, so it must’ve been Tash. We shared the same Apple ID. And yet it didn’t look like an app that Tash would download.

  Curious, I clicked on it and found that it was a sports stats recorder app.

  ‘Huh?’ I mumbled, scrolling through the features.

  It would be good for Will’s footy game, and I wondered if that was why Tash had downloaded it. As I tapped on the Manager Mode, my phone vibrated with a new message alert. Shit! It was Tash again, so I quickly opened her messages, reading them in the order that I’d received them.

  Tash: Please come home.

  Tash: Okay. Take some time.

  I’m sorry.

  Tash: Where are you staying?

  Tash: Please talk to me.

  I love you.

  You know that.

  Tash: You’re such a stubborn jerk at times.

  Tash: Ugh! Stop ignoring me.

  We need to talk, Dean.

  You can’t hide forever.

  Tash: I’m worried.

  Please message me back.

  Tash: Don’t worry.

  I know you’re at City Towers.

  Tash: Ease up on the minibar.

  Tash: I love you today.

  Tash: Hi, my name is Natasha Jones.

  I’m married to you.

  I would like to know that you’re okay.

  Thanks in advance.

  My heart did a backflip. Either that, or it was highly hungover and just fell over. Regardless, reading what she’d sent me and feeling her concern, anger, annoyance and love was a simple reminder that, although pissed and hurt by her betrayal, I still fucking loved her more than my next breath. She was my life, and I was hers. I knew her better than any cocksucker ever could or would. I knew what made her tick, sweat, laugh, blush and cry, and what I didn’t know I’d find out. Because unlike the numbers I manipulated daily, Tash and I weren’t countable. We were infinite. I knew it the day I met her, the day I married her, the day we created life, and right now. And I would know it tomorrow, and the next day, and so on and so on.

  Hitting reply, I put her mind at ease.

  Dean: Natasha Jones,

  Dean Jones will be home when it’s safe to drive.

  I pressed send but felt my response was missing something so typed what I always did and always would.

  Dean: I love you every day.

  * * *

  When I walked through the front door, the smartarse in me wanted to dump my keys on the benchtop just to piss her off. But as much as payback was a fun little cherry on top, I didn’t want petty retribution to get in the way of fixing shit with Tash. Things had been so good these past few months, and I wanted them to continue that way. She was right; we needed to talk. We needed to come clean about everything we were feeling.

  ‘Hey,’ Tash said as I walked through the door. ‘How’s your head?’

  ‘Good, surprisingly.’ I hung the keys on the hook. ‘Where’s the boys?’

  ‘At your mum and dad’s. They have a student-free day at school tomorrow, remember?’

  ‘Oh yeah.’

  ‘So … it’s just you and me tonight,’ she said meekly.

  Passive Tash, although quiet and cute, wasn’t my brash Tash, so I took a seat on the arm of the sofa she was reading on.

  ‘I have one question for you.’

  She put down her book and nodded.

  ‘Do you have feelings for Dale?’

  ‘Intimate feelings? No, I don’t. Really good friend feelings? Yeah, I do.’

  ‘Okay, good. I can deal with that. It also me
ans I won’t have to hit him again.’ I stood up and made my way to the kitchen.

  Tash followed me. ‘YOU DID WHAT?’

  ‘You heard,’ I answered nonchalantly. ‘I hit him.’

  ‘But … but why? And where?’

  ‘Where? Outside his office, or security bat cave, or whatever the fuck it’s called.’ I pulled my wallet and phone from out of my pocket and put them on the buffet. ‘And why? Because he fucking deserved it. End of story, Tash.’

  She went to speak but closed her mouth and hung her head. ‘Fine. While we’re on the topic of confronting-the-other-person confessions, I rang Hillary.’

  ‘Taaaaaash,’ I said, drawing out her name disappointedly, my headache from earlier that day returning.

  ‘At least I didn’t slap the bitch.’

  ‘She’s not a bitch. She was confused.’

  Tash placed her hands on her hips. ‘I beg to differ. She kissed a married man, Dean, a man with kids … a man whose wife she knows! Have you forgotten that minor fact?’

  I hadn’t. And she was right. Hill had stepped over a big line, confused or not. ‘No, I haven’t forgotten.’

  Her posture relaxed a little.

  ‘So what did you say to her?’

  ‘Not a lot. Just that she needed to keep her grubby little lips off you or the next thing she’d be kissing would be my grubby little fist.’

  I shook my head and bit the inside of my cheek.

  ‘And then I said I was sorry that her boyfriend was a jerk and that NO man should ever lay a hand on a woman, and that she should go to the police, because if he’s hitting her, there’s a good chance he’s hit someone else and will continue to do so.’

  ‘Right.’ Why didn’t I think to tell Hillary that? ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She said she would. She also said she couldn’t remember kissing you because she’d sustained a head injury.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Do you believe her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No to remembering or no to reporting the fucker?’

  ‘Both.’

  I nodded then sighed. ‘Yeah, I agree. I messaged her last night—’

  ‘You what?’ she snapped, cutting me off. ‘You messaged her but not me? Your wife … the one you let down on her birthday? The one who was worried sick all night and just wanted to sort shit out with the man she loves?’ Tash laughed bitterly. ‘Real nice, Dean! Real. Nice!’ She turned her back on me and proceeded to open the dishwasher, clanging dishes.

  The persistent clattering started to drive me nuts.

  ‘I messaged her and turned my phone on silent before your messages started to come through.’

  ‘That’s no excuse,’ she huffed, and clanged a pot.

  ‘I wasn’t ready to talk to you last night.’

  Pausing, Tash stared at me, a wooden spoon in her hand. ‘Are you ready now?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Good. ’Cause we need to clarify a few things. Starting with the fact that yeah, I fucked up. Big time. And I’m so sorry. I should never have let it get to where it did. I see that. And it will never happen again—’

  ‘Fuckin’ oath it won’t,’ I interrupted, making it quite clear her lips would never touch another man’s again.

  She placed the wooden spoon down on the bench. ‘I know that. But let’s not forget that you fucked up too. You put Hillary before me. And although you had a reason for doing so, that’s not good enough. I’m your number one priority. Not her. Our kids and I are.’

  She had no idea just how right she was. She also had no idea just how bad I felt about that.

  Taking her hands in mine, I manned up and used my words. ‘And you always will be. Look, I may not show it all the time, but the three of you mean the world to me. You’re what I live and breathe for.’

  She nodded and bit down on her quivering lip.

  ‘And you’re right,’ I continued. ‘I did fuck up. I should’ve left Hillary’s once she was safe and sleeping. I should’ve tried harder to get to you.’

  ‘Yeah, you should’ve.’

  ‘I’m sorry, love. Sometimes I …’ I paused, struggling to say what it was I really wanted to say: that deep down I knew I’d let her down in more ways than one, that I was often blind to her expectations of me — legitimate expectations — those that every husband and father owed their wife and kids, and that when I didn’t measure up, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to or was too lazy to put in the effort required. It was because I didn’t realise it was what she wanted.

  I struggled to say I suffered husband idiocy.

  ‘Sometimes I … I just don’t get it, you know? But I want to. I’m trying to.’

  Tash lifted her hands and placed them on either side of my face. ‘I know you are. And yeah, you’re an idiot at times, but I couldn’t love you anymore if you weren’t.’ She leaned in and quickly pecked my lips before pulling back and continuing to unstack the dishwasher. ‘So … what did you message her?’

  ‘Who? Hillary?’

  Her eyebrows rose and she nodded sarcastically.

  ‘I asked how she was doing and if she’d heard from the scumbag.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And she said no, she hadn’t, but that she was scared and asked if I’d go to her house.’

  Tash’s eyes slowly closed and she exhaled loudly. I didn’t want her to lose her shit so I continued.

  ‘I told her that it wasn’t a good idea I go there, and that if he came over, she needed to call the police straight away.’

  Her eyes reopened, and she continued pulling plates and bowls out of the dishwasher racks without saying a word.

  ‘Tash, Hillary is not a problem. I promise you.’

  ‘Ohhhh but she is! Especially if she keeps pursuing you and playing the scared little girl act.’

  ‘It’s not an act. She is scared. And she is a little girl.’

  ‘She’s twenty-fucking-six! That’s not little.’

  I bent forward and took hold of her hand, encouraging her to let go of the plate she was about to lift free. Gently guiding her to stand upright, I pulled her closer and wrapped my arms around her. ‘She’s not a problem. And she won’t be. I’ll talk to her. I’ll tell her that I care for her wellbeing but that if she ever attempts anything remotely romantic with me again, she’ll need to find a new job.’

  ‘Fuckin’ oath you will,’ she replied in the same possessive tone I’d used earlier on.

  It made me smile.

  ‘But speaking of problems … I need you to tell me if Dale is one. Is he gonna be a problem, Tash?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. He’s not. He was the mistake I needed to make for reasons I can’t explain, but a mistake I’ve learned from and one I’ll never make again.’

  Our eyes chased one another’s as they darted back and forth, no further words needed to express how sincere we both were. I believed her. We’d both made mistakes. It was now time to move on and learn from them.

  ‘Okay.’ I kissed her forehead and pulled back, noticing the engraved ring pendant around her neck. ‘Do you like your birthday present?’

  She smiled and laughed a little, gathering it in her fingers. ‘It’s a donut that says I love you every day. How could I not love it?’

  ‘It’s not a donut, love. It’s just a ring.’

  Tash took a step back, her scrunched face indicating she was offended. ‘Donuts are rings. It’s a donut.’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ I raised my hands in defence and began to retreat. ‘If you want it to be a donut then it’s a donut.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Shower.’

  Tash smirked. A bit like Bryce.

  It was weird.

  * * *

  When I stepped out of the shower and grabbed my towel, I was almost positive I could smell bacon, which was unusual considering it was three o’clock in the afternoon. She must be preparing an early dinner. Whatever she was doing, it had all of a su
dden made me hungry.

  Quickly drying myself off and securing my white towel around my waist, I opened the door to the bathroom and stopped short.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I laughed, smiling from ear to ear at the sight of Tash lying naked on our bed with a donut placed on each nipple and a rasher of bacon draped over her pussy.

  ‘Food play. Come and eat me. I’m both salty and sweet.’ She jiggled her tits and the donuts slid off. ‘Oops.’ She picked them up and took a bite from one before putting them back.

  ‘Hey! They’re mine,’ I warned, greedily, stalking over to the bed and sitting beside her.

  My dick was already tenting the towel; she looked fucking delicious.

  ‘Why hello there, Casper,’ she giggled, lifting the towel to try and peek underneath. ‘Are you a friendly ghost?’

  I growled, hungrily, and latched onto one of her donuts, licking the chocolate icing from her breasts and nipples. She gasped, her chest rising, her hands gripping my head. My hand skated up her side and felt for the other donut, picking it up and placing it in her mouth. She hummed, one of her hands releasing my head, my hand massaging her breast. Bits of donut fell down her stomach and onto the sheets as I licked, sucked and kneaded her perfect fucking chest.

  ‘Dean,’ she moaned, writhing beneath me.

  Hearing the desperation in her voice drove me wild, and I couldn’t wait for her bacon to be on the tip of my tongue, so I trailed kisses down the centre of her stomach and around her belly button until the salty, crispy meat met my lips.

  ‘Be gentle with my bacon,’ she pleaded.

  I placed one hand at the top of the rasher and one at the bottom, pressing it firm against her, and then licked it in one long swipe.

  She bucked. ‘Oh God! Do that again.’

  I did, this time swiping twice before removing the rasher altogether and placing it in her mouth. Once again she hummed, but I was more interested in making her hum for a different reason.

  Climbing onto the bed, I lifted her legs and positioned myself in between them, spreading them wide and draping them over my shoulders. Her pussy glistened, greasy from the bacon but also wet with her juices. I wanted to just sit and stare at how fucking beautiful it was, but I was also an impatient bastard with an appetite for my wife. So I slid my hands underneath her arse and tilted her body higher, pressing my lips into her soft, wet skin.