The Holloways (Made for Love Book 3.5) by R.C. Martin Read Free Book Online Page B

right away. We’ll be yelling at each other and, all of a sudden, bam! Waterworks. Then, sometimes, there’s a delay. Minutes or hours later—depending on the duration or circumstances of our bitch —it strikes when I least expect it. I’m never prepared. Even worse, sometimes it dissolves the situation before I’m ready for it to be resolved.
    Right now, I’m angry . There’s no way in hell I’m taking all that stuff back. I bought it because I wanted it and I’m keeping it! Well, what’s mine at least. The gifts are most certainly not getting returned. They were purchased with purpose, and he has no right to make me take them back. He has no right to make me take any of it back. It’s not like I dipped into our savings or charged it to the credit card. I’m well aware of the funds that we have available. I’m not obtuse when it comes to my finances. I took care of myself for years with no help from him!
    Admittedly, my parents’ financial well-being played a big part in my comfortable living style—but that’s totally beside the point!
    The point is, he picked a fight! I arranged this whole night, he knows that, and yet he decided to ruin it by yelling at me for no good reason just minutes before we’re supposed to leave! I don’t know what crawled up his ass, but I didn’t do anything wrong. Now, as I stand here, hot and irritated, the heat from my hairdryer only making it worse, all I can think about is that moment . It hasn’t hit yet. It will. It always does. Tonight was supposed to be fun and now I have to spend it pretending I’m not pissed at my husband while I wait for the moment .
    I cut off my blow-dryer, my hair still a little wet, and decide to just pull it back. A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth when I remember how much Roman loves my hair in a ponytail.
    If he’s going to be an ass—I’m going to look hot as shit while he’s doing it.
    I pin the front of my hair into a bump and then pull the rest into ponytail in the middle of my head. I adorn my ears with earrings and then tug a little at my V-neck sweater, exposing just enough boob for him to notice. I’m wearing a new bra and the demi-cut does wonders for my cleavage.
    I’m just finishing up with my makeup when there’s a knock at the door. “Babe,” Roman mutters. “We’ve got to go.” I stare at the door for a minute, waiting to see if he’s ready to apologize, but he doesn’t say another peep before I hear his footsteps leave the room. I huff out a sigh, my frustration reignited as I leave the bathroom and head straight for the walk-in closet. I don’t even have to pause and think before I pull out my tan, knee-high, wedged boots. When I’ve got them zipped up, I reach for my peacoat and slip it on before grabbing my purse from off of the bed.
    I spot the Victoria Secret bag full of goodies and roll my eyes. Maybe that I’ll take back. I’m not sure he deserves them anymore.
    It’s freezing outside. Now that the sun has gone down, the chill from before has escalated to downright frigid. When the wind blows, it feels as though I’m not wearing a coat—or a sweater—or skin , the air cutting straight to the bone. Instinct beckons me to huddle up with my hubby as we make our way from the car to the restaurant; but after our silent car ride over, I absolutely refuse.
    I’m relieved when we walk into the Pub and spot Trisha and Ryan right away. Trisha smiles and waves us over and I try my best to look excited to be here. Just as Roman and I shed our coats, Ashton walks in with his date. Trisha gasps and I whip my head around to look at her. We share a smile, our wordless exchange of appreciation for this profound moment— Ashton with a girl on his arm instead of a book in his hands.
    At the same time, we both look back at the beautiful, curvy figure who looks nervous and shy. Ashton is practically beaming, though I’m sure he’d deny it if we mentioned it. “Hey, everyone,” he says in greeting. “This is