My Mr. Manny Read Online Free

next to me. He was on his side, facing away from me, so I scooted closer and wrapped my arm around him. Alex jumped as soon as my arm rested on his body.
    “Hi,” I said, for lack of anything better to say
    He rolled toward me slightly and replied, “You’re awake?”
    “Yeah, I was waiting for you. I wanted to surprise you.”
    “Surprise me?” he questioned, with doubt and sarcasm in his voice. He was trying to be hurtful, and it was working.
    Beginning to regret this whole idea, I realized I should have just left things the way they were; it would have been easier than putting myself out there just to get stomped all over.
    “Well, I thought it was a good idea. I thought we could, you know, spend some time together.”
    “Mia, I’m tired. I just want to sleep. Maybe another time.”
    “Fine. Sorry to bother you.”
    What in the world? He wanted to schedule sex with his wife? This was what my life had come to.
    A few hours later, I awoke to the sun shining through the window. As the first part of my morning routine, I slid my hand across the spot next to me on the bed, and as always, the sheets felt empty and cold. I felt stupid and vulnerable after what I had done the night before. After I’d gathered my courage and taken a chance to connect with my husband again, I’d been rejected. It left me cold, empty, and very hurt. I supposed it was my own fault for not doing it sooner, for allowing things to change between my husband and me, and for not trying to keep our marriage alive. I had heard from watching those daytime talk shows that sex was the first thing to go in a relationship, and when it did, it meant the couple was in a bad place. I had also heard that the hardest thing to do was to get the passion back and that restarting intimacy was a very difficult thing to accomplish, but if the relationship was important and worth saving, it should be done. Most women thrived on the emotional part of the relationship, and most men thrived on the sexual part. If either one felt slighted, they would look somewhere else for satisfaction. I thought perhaps I had fulfilled my emotional needs by loving my daughter with all my heart. With who and how did he fulfill his part? Because it wasn’t with me.
    I flipped the sheets back and walked into the bathroom. The beige tile was cold, so I hopped to the big, dark, red mat in front of the shower. I turned the knobs to let the water heat up and proceeded to get undressed. My favorite room in the house was next to the water closet. My walk-in closet was grand; it displayed all of my shoes and purses and had ample space to hang all of my clothes. Alex’s was on the other side of the toilet and was the same size. This feature was what had persuaded us to rent this condominium, and now it was all ours. The owners had sold it to us a year ago, and I was so happy I wouldn’t have to worry about moving or finding a new place that suited us.
    I showered and got dressed in a knee-length black skirt and a turquoise silk blouse. The skirt showed off my narrow waist and the curve of my round hips. I did my hair and makeup and put on my jewelry before I woke Lucia.
    She needed a lot of coaxing to wake up, so I sat on the edge of her bed and ran my hand over her hair and whispered to her. I made up cute little songs to rouse her from slumber.
    “Lucia, Lucia, it’s time to get up. Lucia, Lucia, you have to get ready for school. Lucia, Lucia, don’t be a fool,” I sang, and she giggled. She lay there with her eyes closed and stretched a bit. She knew that once her eyes were open, it would be time to begin her daily routine. I sang on and on until she graced me with eyes that glimmered like the ocean in the morning sun. It always made her happy — and what a wonderful way to start the day.
    Lucia put on her school uniform, which was a navy blue plaid with thin white, yellow, and green stripes, a white blouse with a round collar, and a navy blue sweater. She wore navy blue knee-highs