If I Could Do It Again Read Online Free Page B

week and I’m really looking forward to your next letter. Hope you write back soon.
     
    Sending you my love,
    Joshua
     
    P.S. I just got some new pictures of me. My parents are copying them and once I get them back I’ll send you copies. They’re also sending some pictures of my motorcycle so I can send them to you. Hope you like them.
     
    It takes only a few minutes for me to get home after reading the letter. It’s late afternoon, and the house looks quiet, though Richard’s car is now parked in the driveway. I park beside him, strolling up to the house, pausing to stare at our perfectly manicured, oversized lawn, seeing the pool peeking out past the corner of our Greek Revival mansion. I shake my head. The house may be overly large and gorgeous, but it isn’t worth my happiness. I’m not sure why I ever thought it was.
    On the pillared entryway, I stop to pick up a box. I glance at the label, and grin a little. The swag I ordered for my next book launch has finally arrived.
    Carrying the box inside, I smile politely to my neighbors as they wave hello. When I unlock the front door, juggling the box as I come in, Richard is standing in the foyer, arms folded over his chest. His expression is blank. He looks at me, his eyes shifting to the box in my arms, before he meets my eyes again. He’s quiet for a moment, just staring at me, before he speaks, “Where have you been?”
    “I went to check my mail,” I say, closing the door and locking it. “When did you get back?”
    He shrugs one shoulder. “About twenty minutes ago.”
    Twenty minutes ago? Was I really gone that long?
Huh.
    Walking through the house, I step into the kitchen, setting the box and my purse down on the countertop, before grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water from the fridge. Richard follows me, so closely I can nearly feel his hot breath puffing against the nape of my neck. He’s agitated. I can feel it. The air around us is so thick it’s suffocating and all I want to do is disappear into my office, except I know doing that will only make things worse.
    “What’s that?” he asks after a long moment.
    “What?” I put the Brita jug away and close the fridge, before glancing at him.
    “On your wrist,” he says, his eyes narrowing as he stares at the beautiful beaded bracelet. “What the fuck is that on your wrist?”
    I swallow hard, trying not to flinch at his sharp tone. I’m still on a high, my heart still racing from Joshua’s letter and gift, and I don’t want to let the feeling go.
    Actually, I’d be happy if I could hold on to this feeling forever.
    I pad over to the table, setting my glass down and taking a seat. “It’s a bracelet.” I place my elbows on the tabletop, folding my hands together in front of me.
    Richard turns up his nose. “When did you have time to make a bracelet? You were supposed to be writing. Wasn’t that the deal when I let you leave that waitressing job?”
    “I didn’t make it, Joshua did,” I say, rolling my eyes and biting my tongue on the
‘Fuck off’
that’s trying to fight its way out of my mouth. I quit waitressing because Richard was worried about how it would look if his wife was working at a bar. It had nothing to do with my writing and everything to do with his image. The man has never supported my career choice, always treating it like a hobby. If he only realized how much I actually make …
    Richard laughs once, unamused. “It looks cheap.”
    “It looks perfect,” I snap instantaneously.
    He jerks back a little, as though my sharp response was a physical slap, and stares at me with wide eyes.
    And there goes the high.
    Silence falls.
    Seconds pass, turning into minutes.
    I sip my water, not sure what else to say.
    Richard paces for a moment, before planting himself down on the chair across from me. He’s still watching me, and I’m not sure what it is I’m seeing there in his eyes. Anger? Fear? A mix of both or something entirely different?
    I