I don't want to trouble Greg or his staff by making them hunt down a dress for me, not when I can do it myself, but he offered, and it felt wrong to refuse.
Besides, I liked the last dress he bought. It fit me beautifully and made me feel like I belonged somewhere I didn't.
And in our contract, he is supposed to provide everything I need while we're married. So… I guess this counts as part of the agreement, not indulgence. That's what I tell myself, at least, while lying on the bed and watching him from the corner of my eye.
He's still sitting on his side, back straight, reading a classic novel that looks like it was printed before either of us existed. Five decades ago, at least. His taste suits him—old-world, composed, a little untouchable.
The room is quiet except for the sound of pages turning and my own breathing. My exhaustion creeps over me slowly, then all at once. I was out the entire day, and by the time I close my eyes, my thoughts melt into sleep.
* * *
