What is up on the blog today you ask?? Well, today we have another review for another great book. Another long weekend is almost upon us and Two Children and a Migraine has this great read for you to check out!! The review with be up later today, but while your here why not check out a sampling of the book below. Want to buy a copy? We have you covered there as well! Check out Savannah Page's site for more information!
“Honey?” I ask as I emerge from the bathroom, clad in a black-lace La Perla teddy. “You already asleep?”
“Out like a light in a few,” Andrew grumbles.
He’s rolled onto his side, one arm propped under his folded pillow. He blinks a few times and blows a kiss my way.
“You and your damn sleeping pills.” I spritz some Chanel Mademoiselle on my wrists and décolletage. “You’ve hardly been back in town and you’re already back to your boring, busy routine.”
With a flick of the bathroom light, I jump into bed, purposely moving rambunctiously so I might have one or two extra waking minutes with my husband.
Since Andrew returned home from Singapore a couple days ago I haven’t had more than a minute to tell him all about Robin and Bobby’s fabulous wedding. He’s been so busy with “loose ends,” as he calls them, to tie up with the big overseas deal, and I suppose I’m lucky I’ve been able to tell him one, maybe two, anecdotes about the wedding and my time while he was gone.
“Busy day at the office tomorrow,” he says through a short yawn.
I roll my eyes as I fluff two pillows. I place both against the headboard and make a high-pitched sigh as I sink back, upright. “Well, if I’ve only got a few fleeting seconds with you before you fall into a deep sleep, then I want to tell you more about Robin’s wedding.”
I turn towards him and nudge him—softly at first, then more aggressively when he doesn’t respond. “Come on. Don’t sleep just yet.Please. Can’t you spare five short minutes? I’ll make it quick. Promise.”
“I’m really tired,” he grumbles. “I’m sorry.” He blindly worms a hand behind him, reaching back towards me and finally alighting on my leg to give it a few conciliatory pats. “Tell me more ‘morrow.”
I swallow hard and stare at the back of his head, his salt and pepper hair freshly cut and still coiffed, and frustration begins to brew. He had enough energy for the past half hour to sit here and toy with his iPad while I got ready for bed, yet now, once I’m here, it’s light’s out—no moment spared to reconnect, to be husband and wife.
“You really would have enjoyed it, Andrew,” I whisper. “It was a really nice wedding.”
A smile can’t help but tug at my lips as I think back on how beautiful Robin looked, how truly happy and content she seemed. “It was really classy and well done, understated but sweet and—”
“Can you please shut off the light, doll?” Andrew interrupts. “It’s past ten and I’m exhausted.”
“You’re really that exhausted?” I say in a small and dejected tone. I pull the comforter up tighter and tuck it snugly around my waist.
“Time change…big client…fine details…” he rambles in a sleepy haze. “Lights…”
I give a quick huff and cross my arms over my chest. “Oh, Andrew, just give your sleeping pills a second to kick in and then you won’t give a crap about the lights.”
I reach for my copy of Home & Design Décor on the nightstand and shake open to the middle of the magazine, conceding defeat. I stare at nothing in particular—simply something to do as I brood and eventually settle into one of my routine evenings: Jackie with her magazines, Andrew with his Ambien.
“You know,” I say after some festering, “if you’re not going to talk to me and you’re always going to go to bed early, then I should just go out. Go do something.” I look over at him and he doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t stir. “It’s not like you’d even notice.”
Suddenly he mumbles, “I love you, doll.” He pats a hand in my general direction behind him, then lets it fall limp between us, the Ambien working its black magic. “G’night…”
“Goodnight,” I mutter through a heavy sigh.
I move my empty gaze from the magazine to Andrew’s hand.
My eyes fall to his wedding band, and I can’t contain myself. I slowly shake my head, pick up his hand, and drop it in between his slumbering body and the edge of the bed, nearly letting it hang over into the dark, empty space.
“I just don’t know how this is going to work,” I say quietly to myself as I flip through the magazine’s pages. My eyes fall on a spread featuring a gorgeous, aquamarine lap pool that’s splayed across it, with a superficially bubbly couple sitting at the edge, toasting champagne under the moonlit night. I sniff at the thought of how some couples still have a spark.