You two went out to dinner, just as planned, around 8 o'clock. It was nice, the hours of just spending time together in the living room, but you needed air, you needed to go outside.
After the first two movies, it got a little boring, but Edgar knew you well. He could see how fidgety you were getting, how you eyes would flicker towards the clock more often. He didn't like how you attention was off of him so he did something out of character.
He opted to play simple childish games with you.
You had asked him to play a game with you once when you were still just dating and that's when you found out that he hated them, not because they were for children or some other stupid reason like that, but because he was horrible at almost all of them, whether they be skill based or luck based. And for some reason, he was only bad when he was playing against you.
Yet he was trying to entertain you by playing games like cards and tic-tac-toe and chopsticks. You two played mancala, Jenga, blackjack, dominos, and Uno and you beat him in all of them every single time.
He didn't even know why he let you pick out all of those game sets, knowing damn well he was never going to have fun playing them, but then he saw your smiling face and he remembered why he even gave in to purchasing them in the first place.
"I win." You said, beaming up from your cards with those cute eyes of yours. You flashed a peace sign, the sign of victory and you grinned with satisfaction. He liked that look, that confidence that you usually lacked in every other situation. Honestly, that smug smirk of yours was a wonderfully sexy sight to behold. You looked so strong, so proud. He wouldn't mind if you felt that strong all the time–like you were on the top of the world.
However, though he enjoyed that look, Edgar found that he didn't want to play anymore. He was the one looking at the clock. Sure, he liked seeing you win and he liked how he didn't have to go easy on you because you were so damn lucky all the time, but he was also a sore loser.
The man didn't like losing. No one in his family did. He was starting to think it was an inherited trait as even his grand parents show aggression when playing causal little games. He remembered vividly that when he was a kid, and he and his siblings were playing monopoly, His elder brother had given his youngest sister a paper cut with the Mediterranean Avenue card and literally mugged her for all of her play money. His father's reaction?
"Life is like that sometimes." He said casually.
In the end, after losing time and time again, Edgar proposed to go to dinner an hour early. You two showered and got dressed separately as to make it a surprise. Edgar used the hall bathroom, and you got to use the big master bathroom. Dressing separately was a sort of tradition you two had started doing recently for date nights to keep things lively, playing off the tradition of the groom not seeing the brides dress until the wedding.
You wore a white blouse underneath a cute beige sweater and a dark red skirt, putting on some sparkling earrings and putting on your favorite lipgloss. You had chosen a necklace that Edgar's sister had given you as a wedding gift. It was (white/yellow/rose) gold and it had a small heart-shaped white diamond dangling in the center. You loved the way it shimmered and you like to wear it on almost every date night.
You grabbed some white flats, putting them on swiftly and then spraying a nice subtle perfume to finish off. As you walked out of your shared bedroom looking nice and gorgeous, you see Edgar right down the hall.
He wore all black, which was a great contrast with your cute look. He wore a black long sleeve turtleneck, which was tucked into his pristine black slacks. He wore a black leather belt, with a silver buckle and a thin silver chain necklace adorned his neck.
He walked up to you, looking down at you with great fondness. His warm hand took a hold of yours and you notice he's wearing a few rings, even wearing the cheap neon green ring that you had won in a gacha machine. You smiled, looking up at him to meet his gaze. "Hi." You said, your voice light and playful. You cheeks took on a rosy tint as your gaze became dreamy.
Edgar turned his head away, coving his mouth with his free hand, his ears were glowing red. "Don't look at me like that." He murmured, trying to regain his composure. You just laughed, stepping closer to him and burying your nose in his chest.
"Keep on acting that way, and I might just keep you here," Edgar whispered huskily, "so I can have you all to myself."
You tensed up, shaking your head frantically, sputtering something about being hungry. You fanned your face, taking a deep breath. It was so good to see he still had that affect on you. It was reassuring.
"Let's just go down the street and eat. Then we can do..." you paused, looking down. Edgar was wearing dress shoes, very clean dress shoes. Was that leather or pleather–
"We can?" Edgar asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "You've got me all riled up now. No going back on that, okay?"
_____________________
The two of you arrive at a restaurant fifteen minutes or so down the road from your nice suburban home. It was called Rosaline's Bistro and it was fairly high quality establishment, always clean and the food was delicious; but sometime there would be kids running around or a particularly rude server though, that never was a problem for you personally. You had never had a super bad experience there, always enjoying your stay and the friendly atmosphere. However, Edgar said he had horror stories about the time he and his brothers went.
They had a job to do near by or something, and he said while he was eating there, some people were harassing them, calling out for them and ordering them drinks. Edgar said it made him and his brothers lose their appetites immediately.
He didn't really like going there because of that, preferring higher end restaurants where disturbances are less likely to happen, but you loved the place so much that he gave in as soon as you asked.
"Why do you like this place so much?" Edgar sighed, holding the door open for you. You walked inside the restaurant and you were met with an absolutely wonderful array of scents. The smell of sauces, seasonings, and seared vegetables. You could hear pans and glasses in the back, the sound of food being fried and sautéed, the sound of happy people cheering when receiving their drinks.
"It's a nostalgia thing." You said, waking up to the service counter. "I only get to come here like twice a year, let me enjoy myself." Your husband sighed again, grumbling about how you deserve better or something like that.
Shortly after that, you two were seated away from the loudest table, which was requested by Edgar. Before you two could even start a conversation, your waitress showed up. She was young, maybe a year or two younger than you, and pretty chipper. You had a feeling you were going to enjoy having her as a waitress.
"Can I get you guys any drinks?"
You nodded happily, asking for sweet tea. Edgar thought the whole thing was cute, how you asked the waitress for it confidently. You were always anxious when it came to ordering things on your own, but at your favorite restaurant, your nervousness seemed to disappear. It was just, so good to see.
"I'd like a still water please." Edgar said. The woman nodded, turning on her heel to get the drinks.
About five minutes later, she came back, smiling as she placed down your drinks. "Can I start you two off with anything?"
"The croissants with honey butter please." You said effortlessly. You had already known what you wanted. "What about you Ed?"
Your husband smiled, shaking his head. "I'll just eat one of your croissants if you'd let me." You gave him a thumbs up.
The waitress looked you up and down, nodding as she wrote what you wanted in her note pad. Edgar glared at her, his eyes narrowed as she analyzed her being. He didn't really like her all that much. Actually, he hated her. Why? He wasn't sure yet.
The croissants came out sometime later, all hot and buttery. When you left to wash your hands, Edgar noticed the waitress's blue eyes following you. It made him feel uneasy. He was right to want to keep you inside. He was always right, but then you came back–all giddy and happy–popping a piece of croissant right into your mouth before sitting down. And Edgar was reminded why he gave in to letting you outside in the first place.
You just looked so at peace, so innocent.
You were enjoying the starter wholeheartedly, your eyes closed so none of your other senses would interfere with the divine taste of flaky French pastry. You chewed slow so you could savor the flavor, portioning the honey butter so you would have enough for each bite. The way you ate was so appreciative.
Edgar was the very opposite at the moment. He was focused on the waitress, who had been keeping a keen eye on you since your arrival. What was she planning? Was she going to hurt you? Was she going to steal you? Edgar went take a sip of water, only to notice that he had finished the entire cup. He waved the waitress over, lifting his cup to signal for a refill.
When she got close, Edgar had noticed that the top four buttons of her black button up were undone. Weren't they done to the collar earlier?
"Eddy, try this." Said man's gaze snapped back to you. In the dim dinning room lights of the restaurant, your skin glowed. You were so radiant, so sweet and angelic. They way you innocently smiled at him–you could never hurt anyone. You wouldn't be able to protect yourself from the dangers of the world.
You were leaning over the table slightly, your hand close to his lips as you held out a warm piece pastry in front of him. "Say ah."
'Ah, it's warm...' Edgar, smiled, grabbing your wrist gently and talking the food between his lips. He moaned. It really was good, but what was even tastier was her feeling of your fingertips along his lips. He made eye contact with the waitress as he licked and sucked on your fingers. He hated that woman, hated her with a passion. He almost laughed when she almost dropped the newly refilled glass of water.
You pulled your hand away, giggling nervously. You played with your hair, looking away for your husband's perverted smile. "I...can't–can't you hold off until... after dinner?"
"No." He purred. "But I'll try."
...
It was all a blur after that. Everything was going quick and slow at the same time. It felt like it was going to take a million years to get you home and out of that cute little skirt, but before he knew it, you were half way through your meal.
It was while you were speaking about some kid that just started working in your department that Edgar had realized he had to go to the restroom. He did drink a lot of water didn't he?
He excused himself, smiling apologetically. "I'll be back." He said. "If anyone tries to bother you, stab them with your steak knife."
You laughed, brushing off his statement as if he were joking. "Okay okay." You said.
He walked passed the waitress, finally looking at the name tag he had neglected. Chrissy. He didn't want to kill anyone today, but he might have to if she didn't learn to look somewhere else. He was worried that if he attempted to wring her neck, your little outing might be ruined. He didn't want that, but–
Her fate was sealed when she decided to shoulder check him, looking up at him with her golden brown eyes and glaring. He gave her nothing but a side glance, before continuing onwards.
She was definitely going to be in an accident. Any unfortunate event will do if it means getting rid of a blemish on his almost perfect life.
Edgar continues on his journey to the bathroom. He did what he had to do and he was done in no time, already washing his hands. Be sighed, becoming agitated. Just thinking about the waitress made his blood boil, but you looked so happy while eating. He swallowed his rage.
"Not today..." He said, turning off the faucet. Edgar looked up into the mirror to fix his appearance in the mirror. Using his already damp hands to style his hair.
And there she was. There, standing behind him, was Chrissy.
They stared at each other through the mirror for a while.
"What's your deal?" She asked. "You've been looking at me all night." Her voice was not her usual high pitched one, but a low one. Her voice was smooth, calming even; but to Edgar, she sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
Edgar couldn't react. How could she have surprised him like that?
She placed her hands on his shoulders. He spun around so quick that he could have gotten whiplash just push her, punch her, anything. But just as he had turned, she had landed the most horrendous kiss on his lips.
He froze. He wanted to throw up. How could he face you, knowing that his lips had touched another woman's. He knew Chrissy didn't know what she was getting herself into. He wanted to dig his fingernails into her neck and rip her head off with his bare hands.
While on his shocked state, the woman had wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips parted for another daring kiss.
And then you walked in.
You had taken off your sweater it seemed, your blouse slightly wrinkled from it. Your face looked blank as Chrissy looked flustered, her eyes wide as she didn't expect to get caught. "I'm sorry!"
You didn't say anything, you didn't have to. The hurt in your eyes spoke louder than any words and it pained him to see you that way. You looked so disappointed, so gloomy.
"You're young." You said. "Ignorant, naive."
Your sorrow then turned into a scowl. He had never seen you make a face like that before.
You walked up to Chrissy swiftly, taking long bold strides. Your gaze was blank, dull, and with no hesitation at all, you had slapped her across the face, not hard, but hard enough to make her head turn a bit.
You shook you head as the younger woman rubbed her cheek. Tears welled up in her eyes.
Edgar could only state, his eyes wide in awe.
"Please don't tell my boss! I need this job I just... he was staring at me and–"
"You assumed." You cut her off. Your voice was low and stern, like a mother scolding a child. You turned to your dear husband, cupping his face gently and looking into his eyes. You pulled him down, your thumb caressing his bottom lip. "Are you okay?"
It was going to be your wedding day all over again wasn't it? You were so forgiving, so sweet, a literal angel. He literally could cry.
But he wasn't going to.
"I'm fine." He said pathetically, feigning hurt. You hugged him, burying your nose into his shirt and breathing in his cologne. He placed his hand on the back of your head, messing with your hair as his burgundy eyes pierced into the young woman behind you.
He was going to make sure she wasn't working there anymore. He was going to make sure she knew pain for ruining your night and giving him such a filthy kiss.
You may have let her off easy, but Edgar held his grudges.
______________
In the end, as expected, you let her go. You told Chrissy that you weren't going to tell her boss, but you left her crying with how you lectured her about what could have happened if you were anyone else.
"I feel like I'm a bit possessive." You said. "I didn't have to hurt her feelings like that, but when I saw her walk in after you and I just...."
It was so sweet how you thought you were being selfish–how you thought being jealous of some young waitress with a crush was some sort of crime.
"She was just young and stupid. This all wouldn't have happened if I just let you stay home like you wanted, Eddy." You sighed. "I'm sorry."
What you didn't know was that you were more selfless than you knew. You didn't know about all those times he had ruined your high heels so you couldn't go to far away formal events, or all those times he popped your tires or siphoned all of your gas from your car. You didn't know those time he gave you sleeping pills so you would feel too drowsy to go out, or about his plan to make you want to be his loving little house wife.
You didn't know that poor Chrissy was being nabbed and dumped somewhere else by Edgar's acquaintances. And the police would turn a blind eye to it too, because Edgar was selfish and powerful and greedy. Such an angel you were, unknowingly dating the devil so openly.
Edgar knew he had an obsession. He knew he was unhealthy, but no one sane could get to where he was. And you kept him calm. He didn't want to return to those days where he was stuck in the cycle of killing and sleeping.
You just being alive, just being around, was selfless.
Because he would have killed Chrissy in the bathroom if he wasn't worried about you. And he would have made sure that every single person in the restaurant would be too afraid to say what they saw.
"How about you make it up to me by staying in with me tomorrow." Edgar said, glancing you for a second.
You nodded, apologizing again and agreeing to his proposal. "Yeah." You smiled. "Let's do that."
...
You two never went to that bistro again. Though it was your favorite restaurant, every time you looked at it, you felt guilt. Your husband literally got assaulted because you just couldn't sit down—you could never forgive yourself. And Edgar basked in it, that crestfallen look that would flash on your face every time he asked you where you wanted to go.
Such a selfish man your husband was.
Thanks for reading. I hope that made sense because sometimes, I just be writing....