When the Fairytale Ends

When the Fairytale Ends Read Free

Book: When the Fairytale Ends Read Free
Author: Dwan Abrams
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determine whether the hair was black, off-brown, or truly gray. “Hey, babe!” he called again.
    â€œComing,” Shania called back, and he listened as her footsteps brought her closer to him. His wife, still dressed in lingerie, walked into the bedroom, looking fresh faced and radiant as she kissed him on the lips. Her breath smelled like minty mouthwash. “Good morning, birthday boy.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and leaned against the door frame of the bathroom. “Where’d you head off to so early this morning? You beat the birds.”
    â€œOver to Mother Washington’s. Had to fix some of the shingles on her roof. Does this look gray to you?” He held up the tweezers that still held the questionable hair hostage.
    Shania dropped her jaw and gave him “the look.” “I know you didn’t just call me all the way in here to look at a piece of gray hair. Are you serious?”
    â€œSo it is gray?” Greg said, and held the tweezers up to the light. He squinted and stared hard at the hair. “You sure it’s gray? It doesn’t look off-brown to you?”
    Shania stared at him and blinked a few times. “This is pitiful, Greg.” Against his protests, she took the tweezers from him and dropped them back into the pullout drawer.
    â€œHey!” he said, retrieving the tweezers and glaring at her. “I wasn’t finished.”
    â€œCome on, I cooked you breakfast,” she said, and though he continued to protest, she hooked her arm through his and dragged him out of the bathroom. “You left in such a hurry, you left your phone on the nightstand. It’s been ringing off the hook. Nearly all the calls are from Franklin.”
    He knew exactly what his co-worker Franklin was calling for, and it wasn’t just to say happy birthday. About a month ago, he had seen this beautiful BMW motorcycle on a TV commercial. On a whim, he had told Franklin that he was going to treat himself to it for his birthday. Though he had said it half jokingly, Franklin, a die-hard biker and collector of vintage cars, had taken his vow to heart; and from that day forth, he had continually bombarded Greg with enough magazines, brochures, and biker jargon to drive even the savviest motorcycle mechanic insane. He had to admit, though, had it not been for Franklin’s incessant pursuit of the whole bike issue, Greg wouldn’t even be considering slipping off to the BMW dealership to take a look at the motorcycles.
    Still tugging at his arm and leading him down the steps into the kitchen, Shania said, “I figure since Franklin was calling so much, you two must have plans for today.”
    â€œNot big plans,” he promised her, being deliberately aloof.
    â€œWell, good, because I want you all to myself today.”
    Greg frowned. “But don’t you have that big wedding coming up next weekend?”
    â€œYes, I do,” she said, “but that big wedding is going on the back burner. I have plans to make your day as special as possible.”
    â€œJust being my wife is special enough.” He pulled her to a stop in the middle of the kitchen floor and tucked her into his arms, kissing her lips repeatedly. He ran a hand through her relaxed hair and gazed into her large, almond eyes. “You look delicious in that little slip.”
    She caught his bottom lip between hers and said into his mouth, “Do I?”
    His hands slid down to her thighs, and he hooked his thumbs under the hem of her lingerie, lifting it slowly. With his lips close to her ear, he said, “But you’d look even better without it.”
    â€œNo, no, no,” she said, laughing, and whisked out of his arms. “You had me up all night, giving you an early birthday present, and I’m still sore. That, my friend, will have to wait until later.”
    Still laughing, she opened the oven, and he watched her long, shapely legs, seemingly endless

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