Free Trouble (Orsen Brothers #1) by Aubrey Watts

fingers danced over the fabric as I shrugged off my clothing and unzipped it, pulling it up my body and eyeing the hardwood floor for my high heels.
    I slid one on and bent to fish the other out from under my bed. The doorbell rang, jolting me upright. I raced to answer and grabbed a clutch purse along the way, stuffing my phone and wallet inside of it.
    “Just a second!” I called out as I scoured the living room for my jacket. I caught a glimpse of myself in window and pulled my hair up into a loose bun. It wasn’t perfect but it would have to do. “I’m coming!”
    I yanked open the door as I pulled on my jacket. Stephen was standing perfectly polished before me. “Hi,” I said breathlessly, giving him a manufactured smile.
    “Hi,” he replied, looking down at his watch. “I’m not late am I?”
    “No.” I shook my head. “You’re right on time…”
    “Good,” he said, waving a hand at me. “You look amazing.”
    “You don’t have to lie,” I said, turning to lock the door. “I just got home from therapy with my mother. I got ready in under five minutes.”
    “How did that go?”
    “Therapy?” I waved a hand in the air. “You know.”
    He chuckled and extended an arm to me. I took hold of it and we made our way down the steps. For a brief moment, we almost seemed happy together.
    “So where are we going?” I asked him as we climbed in his car.
    He shook his head and smiled. “I’m not telling.”
    I pouted.
    “That won’t work this time,” he said with a light laugh, pulling away from the curb. “Really, I want it to be a surprise.”
    “You know I don’t like surprises…”
    “You’ll like this one.”
    “That’s doubtful.”
    “Jesus.” He turned to me and shook his head. “It’s our anniversary. I don’t want to argue. You’ll like this, I promise.”
    “It’s too hot,” I commented, changing the subject and leaning forward to twist the knobs on the dash until cool air blew back at me. “That’s better.”
    The rest of the car ride was a quiet but I didn’t mind. There weren’t very many topics we could talk about these days that didn’t lead to an argument.
    About fifteen minutes later, he pulled up in front of a large manor-like building and parked, getting out to open my door. I swallowed hard and let him usher me inside the same Italian restaurant our wedding rehearsal was held at.
    “So this is the surprise,” I noted, sliding into the booth we were seated at near the back.
    “Did I do good?”
    I nodded and reached for the menu in the middle of the table. “You did, actually.”
    He smiled at me and reached for my hand. I flinched and pulled away from him without thinking, taken momentarily aback by his touch. His smile faded but he quickly regained his composure. We studied our menus silently and I looked up at him every few seconds to see if he was looking back.
    “Do you know what you want to order?” he asked after a few minutes, clearing his throat.
    “Lasagna. That’s good here, isn’t it?”
    “It is,” he answered, “I think I’ll have a filet mignon.”
    “Good choice…”
    I couldn’t help but dwell on how stiff and boring we were. Our conversations used to come so easy once. But somewhere along the lines of our separation—or maybe even our entire marriage—that had changed.
    He swallowed and looked back down at his menu. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he took a sip of his water and I fiddled with my wedding ring, which I put back on just for this occasion. All we were doing was kicking a dead horse and I couldn’t entirely understand why.
    An obviously new couple was seated at a table across from us, giddy with the anticipation of what their relationship would bring. They sat on the same side of the booth as opposed to across from each other and my stomach turned as I watched them nuzzle.
    They had no idea what was to come for them.
    When had I become so bitter?
    I looked back up at Stephen. He slumped over the table