Week 48 – He’s a dead man

She groaned as she walked into the kitchen.
 
Dishes everywhere. Empty chocolate wrappers and soda cans spread out on the counters. Dishwasher finished running, not unloaded, but open with a couple of bowls missing.
 
This was not what she wanted to come home to after a long day at work.
 
She didn’t ask for much, just the basics. Clean up after yourself. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?
 
The living room wasn’t faring any better than the kitchen. Her throw pillows were scattered all over the floor, the patchwork rug she’d spent almost a year making was scrunched in a ball at one end of the sofa, and dirty bowls covered in stick melted ice cream on the coffee table.
 
“Ugh,” she muttered. Her mood was getting worse by the minute.
 
It plummeted when she stepped onto the stairs.
 
A stain.
 
On her brand new carpet.
 
Her brand new white carpet.
 
It looked like that pomegranate juice he was obsessed with.
 
“He’s a dead man,” she growled as she kicked off her high heels and took the stairs two at a time.
 
“Uh oh,” he looked up as she stormed into the bedroom. He was lounging on the bed, dressed in nothing but a pair of sweat pants, playing video games. “I’m in trouble aren’t I?”
 
“Yes,” she glared, avoiding looking at his sculpted chest. He climbed off the bed, his pants hung low on his hips and her eyes couldn’t help but wander a little further south.
 
“I’m sorry for the mess,” he tried his best to look contrite.
 
“You should be,” she huffed.
 
His eyes crinkled and his lips quirked up, “Let me make it up to you.”
 
His hands rested on her shoulders, kneading lightly. Why did he have to be so sexy? Why did he have to look so endearing when he smiled? Why did he have the most adorable dimples?
 
“Why did I say yes when you asked me to marry you?” she muttered.
 
“Because you love me,” he kissed the tip of her nose then scooped her up into his arms.
 
She couldn’t argue with that. As he trailed a line of kisses along her jawline and carried her to the bed, her bad mood melted away. Having to put up with mess was a small price to pay to have the man she loved more than life itself by her side.
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