Mr Reluctant Billionaire || BWWM

Twenty-two

A yawn slips from me, the back of my hand goes to cover my mouth and I nod with my head almost hitting the table. I blink twice, fighting to stay awake and the yawn escapes me. The light of my phone screen comes on, a peek at the time shows it’s past nine and Brandon is not here yet.

He’s not picking my calls, in fact, no one is. Brandon. Clarissa. Joshua. They have all gone quiet on me and I’m starting to get worried. I miss them. Him.

The letters on my screen blur, tears fill my eyes, I squint and reach for the mouse to reduce the laptop’s brightness. I cast a look at the empty plates on the dining table, the stainless flask at the centre, this is my first time of cooking since we got married and I decided to surprise him with dinner. Spaghetti Bolognese. I don’t know if he likes it, so far, he hasn’t chosen any meal above the other, he eats whatever he’s given.

My stomach growls and I wrap my arms around my belly, I have not had lunch. Being a busy student, I am used to skipping meals but the little time spent with Brandon has affected my feeding pattern, now, my body protests whenever I go hungry for long periods. I pout as a sudden realisation hits me: today is the first time we have been apart for this long. I won’t admit it to him but I have gotten so used to his presence that the house feels incomplete without him. I miss him.

I blink, staring at my laptop screen, the article I was proofreading required my full concentration and I didn’t realise how much time had passed until I went to take a leak. Dinner is supposed to be with Brandon, over a bottle of wine I found in the kitchen while we discuss his day at work and also get to know more about each other.

Shutting down the laptop, I place my pen in the middle of the jotter I was using to take notes and head to the kitchen with the flask to heat the spaghetti. My footsteps echo in the empty house, my gown –the gown I changed into because I thought he would arrive early—makes a rustling sound as I scramble to get everything ready.

The microwave pings, drawing my attention back to it. I return to the dining, huff and dig into my meal while going through my recorded notes with slight disinterest. With only one semester left, I have to keep my head up, I want to be the class Valedictorian and I’ve been doing a great job, my grades speak for itself. I am on the right path.

My eyes settle on my phone, I unlock it and a smile flits to my lips as I take another forkful of spaghetti from my plate. The picture on the home screen has me biting my lip, Brandon is smiling so hard at me instead of the camera with his hands around my waist. Warmth spread through me at the reminder of that day, we kissed a lot in front of people. Some of the parents had been forced to cover their children’s eyes but it only caused him to shower me with more kisses. Giggles spill from me, I like his petty side.

Quickly working up a text, something I should have done earlier, I type in a message inquiring about his whereabouts and safety. My lips pucker as I reread the message, my finger hover about the send button but I don’t tap on it, I sit there, battling with myself on the correct emoji to end the text. I want to add a love emoji but I don’t want to freak him out, he might start to distance himself once he finds out how emotionally invested I am. In the end, I settle for a smiley face and I miss you, come back soon.

Stabbing a meatball, my mouth closes over it and I chew absent-mindedly without savouring the taste. I spent time making the meal, excited for Brandon to come home to dinner made by his wife but his prolonged absence has put a dent on my mood. Regular workers finish from work by past six, as the CEO, or founder or whatever position he holds, he should be here by now. My appetite vanishes completely when the time hits ten, I yawn, push the plates aside and start for our bedroom.

Sleep is far from me as I change into a more appropriate wear for the night, I can’t go to bed without knowing if he’s alright and I have no idea who to call. My fingers run through my hair, he doesn’t have friends neither does he talk about his family, I pause, biting my lips. The music, I can find the source of that opera music, use that to pass time until he returns. Excitement courses through, I amble to the door which opens right before my hand connects to the knob and Brandon walks in.