* *
The text from Angie was what first got me worrying.
Home late, not hungry, was all it said.
Angelica was a motorcycle cop. I was used to her coming in late, given her shift hours tended to run long if there was some sort of crisis. But she almost always wanted dinner when she came home. It was part of my job to have it ready for her.
I should explain I guess. After we were married and my dad cut me off (not that I was crying too hard about that) we figured out between her salary and what my mother had left me, we could actually live pretty comfortably even without me holding a job. So to the neighbors I was her house husband.
Between just Angie and me, I was her slave.
( Love is strange )