Unbeknownst to her, his real nightly exploits, Rita would return to her domestic routines; catching up on chores around the house, foiling the leftovers from dinner. Since it was the weekend, Astor and Cody picked the movie for their movie night, insisting that their mother made»
puppy chow and popcorn which… she couldn’t deny on such a special evening. Still, they felt the absence of her husband. He was just as much apart of this tradition as anyone else but they knew his job took precedence. It’s why she was dialing his phone, waiting for his response»
She felt him stiffen, growing more relaxed as his shoulders slumped, giving into the hug. What she hadn’t expected was the pats to her back, making her elicit a fit of giggles, peeling back to look at him with a pointed brow. “Aren’t I supposed to be consoling you?” Then without»
Her eyes glowed with adoration, this time rising on her tiptoes to meet his kiss, giving him a loving stroke to his chin. He was more affectionate this morning, but Rita didn’t think much of it.
“You’re safe for today. Tomorrow, though, gloves are comin’ off, Morgan.”
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Hey now, it’s impolite to call a lady old. She’s already dreading the day Astor becomes a full-fledged teenager and develops this slang. The day she calls her old is the day she’ll accept her defeat.
Has he heard of Good Charlotte? Bowling For Soup?
He… yeah, there’s nothing to add. He had no redeeming qualities but at least he gave her two beautiful babies. The only credit she’s willing to give him.
Nothing compares to him. She only saw him when he left for work this morning but the sentiment still stands. Is he working overtime tonight?
As she’s currently listening to Shoop right now, what are the odds.
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Let her preface by saying she’s never seen him angry, and frankly, she never wanted to. Yet, here they are. Inching towards him, she wraps her arms around him, nestling her face in his chest.
“You can’t be upset if you’re being touched by a pretty girl. Masuka said so.”
She’s curling up on the couch, donning an old t-shirt she plucked from the dresser, pairing it with a plaid flannel rolled up to her elbows. With her stylus, she’s drawing a graph on her tablet, trying to break down ideas for dinner.
“No, you’re not stupid.” As if a testament to her words, Rita reaches out to take his face in her hands, thumb stroking along his patch of stubble. He should’ve known by now that she’ll always be here, playing as his anchor when the world feels too heavy. He has his demons and»
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that by God’s intervention? Did she 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚 in such an idea? Whatever was the cause of their union, Rita knew they were on the right path. Even now, as her husband’s head was slumped in her lap, riddled with guilt over what he’d done. Combing her fingers through his hair,»
At the kiss, Rita hums contentedly. She gives a firm, lingering kiss to his shoulder before peering down at the pan of scrambled eggs, feeling a swirl of hunger dancing in her stomach.
“No wonder the bed felt empty.” She murmurs in a groggy tone, hands rubbing at her eyes.
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Her expression dwindled into a deep, perplexed scowl as she listened to her son recall his friend’s grievances with the black mold. She did agree, beyond the colorful language, that the mold poses a living hazard especially if her son’s got asthma. It just simply wasn’t safe.»
in a soft croon, finishing his unspoken thought. Then with a light ruffle through his hair, she steadies on a pointed toe, rolling back to her heel. What can they 𝙙𝙤? Her advice still stands, to file a complaint. But it wouldn’t do anything in immediate causes. “Let me think»