The Bad Boy Next Door

Jo hummed to herself as she fixed her hair and make up. She glanced at the clock. Pete's plane had landed a little over an hour ago. He'd be home soon, and Jo couldn't help the rush of giddy excitement she felt at the thought of seeing her husband again. He'd been home only a handful of days in the past couple of months, but after tonight, he'd be home with her for two weeks. She could hardly remember the last time she'd seen her husband that much, if ever.

Jo heard the door open, and she checked her make up one more time before all but running to the living room. She threw her arms around Pete, kissing him. Pete kissed her back lightly, before pushing her away. "Did you make dinner?"

Jo blinked. Dinner? "Um, I thought maybe we could go out tonight. We haven't in so long, and…"

"Jordan, I'm tired," Pete said. "Besides, I ate out every night I was gone. I'd much rather just have a home cooked meal."

"There's some leftovers in the fridge…"

"I've been gone for four days, and the best I can come home to is leftovers?"

Jo fought the sudden onslaught of tears she felt trying to break through to the surface. "I can make something else…"

"You're so good to me, baby," Pete said, kissing the top of her head. "I'm going to take a shower. I always feel so dirty after being crammed in an airplane for hours."

"I missed you," Jo said as Pete walked out of the living room.

"Missed you, too!" Pete called back, shutting the door to the bathroom.

Jo walked into the kitchen, throwing open the freezer door and pulling out ground beef. She slammed the freezer shut, then went to the microwave, throwing the door open before shoving in the beef and slamming it shut as well. She punched the numbers in so hard that she broke a nail.

"Son of a bitch," she snapped, holding her injured finger. Suddenly, she couldn't hold back the tears anymore. She went to the sink, leaning over it as she cried silently. Was it her? Was she so undesirable that her husband didn't want to be around her? She tried to be a good wife, tried to make him happy, but it seemed like she just couldn't.

Jo looked up, catching a glimpse of Frank through the window. He was sitting at his kitchen table, smoking a cigarette and flipping through the paper. He seemed so relaxed, and Jo couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to be his wife instead of Pete's. She imagined sitting with him at the table, making idle conversation about what their days had been like. She never did that with Pete, never had the kind of relationship with her husband where she could just be there, enjoying the moment with him.

Jo wiped her eyes harshly, chastising herself for that thought. She had no idea what life would be like with any man other than Pete, especially her neighbor. So he'd helped her when he car was broken. That didn't mean he'd be a good husband. Pete would've helped a woman in her situation, and he was…

Jo frowned. Was what? A bad husband? She really couldn't call him that. He loved her and provided for her. She felt the all-too familiar wave of guilt at her desire for Pete to spend more time at home. He reminded her over and over again that he worked so much for them, so they could have a good life. She shouldn't be so selfish.

The microwave dinged, and Jo went over, getting the now-thawed meat out. She took a deep breath, forcing a smile as she made dinner.