Sweat dripping down my body, the sound of gasps and muffled moans filling the air, and a pair of strong hands that worked their way along my curves as if they had them mapped out from memory.

"Your fence isn't the only thing I can pound," Mason whispered huskily from behind me.

His breath was hot against my ear. I could have listened to that voice forever.

He wrapped his arms around my waist pressing me against his body. I shivered with pleasure at the flurry of sensations that suddenly surrounded me. The way his arms held me so firmly, desperate to keep me there. The warmth of his bare skin against mine. The way I could feel his heart beating in his chest. And, of course, the hardness I now felt nudging against my thigh.

I wanted him. I wanted him so much.

Then suddenly he reached up and grabbed my breast. Only, it wasn't like I thought it would be.

With everything else moving so smoothly, I would have thought something like this would be a piece of cake for him, but for some reason, it wasn't. He fumbled with my breast awkwardly, squeezing and mushing it in a way that was more like he was trying to knead bread than please a woman. He pinched my nipple, but not in any way that I enjoyed. This just hurt.

He started grinding his hip into the back of my leg like a humping dog. I frowned. Something was off here. This didn't feel like how Mason usually made me feel. This felt more like...

"Phil?" I mumbled groggily as the dream I'd been in slowly faded around me.

"Well, look who's up," he said cheerfully, pinching my nipple again.

Ugh. Great. Just what I needed first thing in the morning. I brushed his hand away lethargically, turning toward my side of the bed. I was hoping he would take the hint and just let it go.

Unfortunately, this was Phil we were talking about. That persistent attitude of his might have made him a top dog at his company, but it just made him a pain in the ass at home. I had to repress the urge to sigh as he slipped his hand under my lingerie, rubbing my thigh.

Normally, I would have just sucked it up and let him do whatever he wanted. It didn't require much effort on my part, and it usually didn't last long either. However, I had even less enthusiasm than usual to deal with Phil and his three-pumps-of-vanilla sex today. I was still sore from last night, and having my dreams, and sleep in general, interrupted like this had certainly not "put me in the mood" to do anything.

"Stop it, Phil. I'm tired," I muttered.

"If you were really that tired, you wouldn't have put something like this on," he teased, tugging at the lingerie.

"That was nighttime Maggie. Daytime Maggie is over it and just wants to sleep."

"Aw, come on. I told you I'd be working late."

Arguing with him would be pointless. I could already tell. I'd have better luck convincing a brick wall to move. So, I reached into my arsenal of "mood killers" instead. And one in particular had yet to let me down.

I sighed heavily, turning towards him. "Okay, okay. Do you have a condom?"

And there it was. His face immediately fell at the mention of "condom." I knew he didn't have one. He never had one. Even if we had sex more often than we currently did, he wouldn't have one. After all, that would ruin his whole master plan, wouldn't it?

He frowned and scratched the back of his head. "Come on, Mags. We're married for Christ's sake. I don't need-"

"You do," I cut him off.

"What's the point?" He grumbled, glaring down at the bed. "Half of them expire before I get the chance to use them anyway."

"Then buy me birth control."

He made a disgusted noise before shoving himself off the bed. "Great, great. Thanks, Mags. So glad we were able to do this right before I go to work."

He stormed over to the closet and yanked out his clothes. He didn't say a word to me the entire time he was getting dressed, but I could feel the anger and resentment hanging heavy in the air. He grabbed his work bag off the dresser and headed for the door, throwing one last glare over his shoulder as he grabbed the handle.

In the beginning of our marriage when he did things like this, it used to really hurt me. I would cry for hours after he left and blame myself for what had happened. This was usually followed by me making a tearful apology to him whenever he finally decided to come home.

However, after several years and far too many fights like this, I'd grown numb to it all. The anger in his eyes was now met with a look of boredom and apathy, instead of the miserable dependency I'm sure he still wished was there. I didn't even flinch as he slammed the door behind him.

I sat there, listening to him stomp away. Eventually, I heard his car pulling out of the driveway. I sighed as the sound disappeared into the distance.

Was he always like this? I'd like to think that he wasn't. Maybe it was just my hopeful pride, but I'd like to think that he wasn't like this when I'd married him. That there was actually a time in our lives when he truly did love me. A time when we were happy together. That maybe it was just the big corporate rat race that turned him into the cold, manipulative bastard that he was now. I'd like to think that, but with each passing day, I started to doubt it more and more.

Whatever the case, capitalism or egotism, he wasn't the man I fell in love with anymore. And he hadn't been for a very long time.

But I couldn't leave him. I sighed as that grisly fact reared its ugly head, yet again. I glanced over to the picture of Eli on my nightstand. I grabbed it, looking down at him sadly.

"I'm sorry," I murmured gently, brushing my fingers along the glass. "I know I'm being selfish, but... can't I? Please? Can't I have this one thing? Just one thing to bring me a speck of joy in this miserable bland existence?"

I wasn't sure why I even bothered to ask though. I already knew the answer. I could hear his voice as clear as day inside my head.

Why are you apologizing?! Are you really asking for my permission to be happy? God, you really are stupid, aren't you? If it wasn't for this goddamn IV I swear I'd knock some sense into you myself. Be happy, Stupid!

I couldn't help but snicker as I pictured him. Brows furrowed, glaring at me, gesturing and flailing as dramatically as the tubes would allow him to. Even on the days he was practically bedridden he was still a hopeless drama queen. I loved him so much.

I smiled as I set the picture back on my table. Alright, fine. I'd "be happy" if that's what he wanted.

Later though. Right now, it was too early in the morning for this shit and I needed some coffee.

I threw a robe over the skimpy lingerie and dragged myself to the kitchen. I didn't have the energy to change yet and it's not like anyone would really see me anyway. I shoved a pot on the coffee maker and leaned against the counter, waiting for it.

I glanced at the clock. Just after eight. I couldn't help but snort and roll my eyes as I saw it.

Phil's job didn't start until nine, but he always liked to be at the office by eight-thirty. Since we lived in the suburbs instead of the city, it took him about twenty minutes to drive to work. Meaning even if I had given it to his little "request" earlier he'd probably only planned to be there about ten minutes anyway. What a romantic, right?

I shook my head and headed for the front door. The paper was probably there by now and flipping through it would give me something else to focus on until the coffee was done at least.

Sure enough, as soon as I opened the door, the paper was waiting for me there on the front porch. However, as I knelt to get it, I noticed something strange. The flag on our mailbox was up.

Odd. I highly doubted Phil took the time during his little storm off to stop and shove something in the mailbox. Besides, he always mailed things from the office anyway. Was it just the neighborhood kids goofing around again?

Just to be safe I walked over and opened the mailbox. Inside was a little black box with a white satin ribbon tied into a bow. I picked it up. A little tag attached to the ribbon read Maggie. The tag was handwritten, but I didn't recognize the writing. I stared at it, confused.

The only thing I could say for sure was that it wasn't from Phil. Gifts like this were usually for after we had a big fight. Not during.

I flipped down the mailbox flag and headed back to the house. I closed the door behind me without looking at it and sat at the kitchen table, staring at the little box in my hands.

Well, whatever this was, there was only one way to find out. I pulled the bow loose, letting the ribbon fall to the table, and opened the lid.

I didn't exactly have an "idea" in my head when I opened it. It's not like there was something specific that I was expecting to find. But what I did find was far beyond anything that I could have ever anticipated.

It was a hair clip. However, this wasn't your typical bought-at-a-costume-store piece of tin. This was a piece of art.

Shining silver had been skillfully curved and shaped to form elegant flower petals. Delicate pearls dotted the center of each flower, and a sprinkling of red gemstones gave a unique and eye-catching sparkle to the base. I ran my fingertips along it gently, almost as if confirming it was real.

It was beautiful. No, it was beyond beautiful. I couldn't even find the words to describe something like it. Was it really for me?

Gingerly, I lifted it out of the box. As I did, a small, folded paper slipped from the back of the clip and landed on the table. I picked it up and unfolded it. And the words on the page left me stunned and breathless.

Thanks for a lovely evening.

See you tonight?

-Mason

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I picked up the clip again with a renewed sense of awe. Carefully, I placed it in my hair, looking at my reflection in the sliding doors. I smiled as I looked at it, my body buzzing with anticipation.

See you tonight? See you tonight? The voice from my dream whispered those sweet words to me again and again. A question. Not a statement. And after tonight, I'd make sure that he never had to ask it again.