“Rhys, I didn’t accuse you of anything,” Brooklyn spat, scraping off food from her plate into the garbage disposal. This had been an ongoing rift between the blonde and her boyfriend for over a month. The truth was Brook didn’t accuse him of anything. Not to his face, at least. But she had a creeping suspicion that work wasn't actually keeping him late every night. If she brought this up, however, suddenly she was the bad guy for not trusting him.
The taller brunette came over, dropping his plate in the sink. “Well, it seems like you really want to. So say it.” He leaned on the counter, waiting for her response. “Go on, Brook, tell me what you really think.” She sighed, exasperated by his pushing. She was perfectly content keeping it to herself. She dropped the dishes she was in the middle of washing, and looked over to him, resting her hands on the sink.
“You want to know what I really think? I think your ‘work wife’ is a little more than that. I think you go and visit her at the bar every day after work, while I’m at home making us dinner. I think you’ve slept with her a handful of times here while I was at work. And actually, I think she’s your most recent contact on your phone too.”
He shook his head and walked away from her. “You are so dramatic, you exaggerate everything,” he argued from the other room. He always did this to her when they fought anymore. Suddenly she’s too dramatic, or too serious, or too paranoid. Everything she was upset about didn’t matter. “Stop redirecting this! It doesn’t matter if I’m dramatic or not, my feelings and concerns are valid,” she defended, following him into the living room.
“It does matter, because when you exaggerate, going out with a coworker becomes sleeping with a coworker. That’s a big fucking accusation, Brooklyn!”
“I’ve never said it wasn’t! What, do you think I just throw this around? Do you think I want to think you’re fucking someone else in the back of your car after work almost every day? If there wasn’t so much evidence, I probably wouldn't even bring it up.”
“Evidence? What are you a fucking detective?”
“I don’t need to be, because you’re that obvious about it!”
Brook crossed her arms over her chest, houghing in anger. She stomped over to him and tried to square up with him, but she just simply was not big enough to compare. “Her panties. I found her panties in your trunk when I was getting groceries.”
“And they weren’t just your panties? I did have to take clothes to the laundromat recently. They could’ve fallen out of the basket,” he argued.
“She’s not even my size, Rhys! If you’re going to try that one, at least fuck someone my size!” A frown was plastered on her face, disappointed at his attempt to try and gaslight her again.
“Great, you won, Brook. I fucked my coworker and you - you were right. Congratulations,” he mocked, “Now what are we going to do? Split up? If that’s what you want, but both of our names are on the fucking lease. We’ll still be stuck together for another six months at least.”
“I don’t want to split up, Rhys, I’m only asking that you stop and commit to me for once,” she practically begged, “We can fix this, we can fix us…Aren’t I enough for you?” Rhys’s expression softened and he took a step closer to her, holding her cheek. “You’re more than enough, Brook. I’m sorry I made you feel this way.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I was weak, but I’ll do better. For us.” He trailed more kisses down the bridge of her nose to the tip, and then her lips. She put her hands on either side of his face and kissed him deeply. “I love you,” she breathed after pulling away. Rhys wrapped his arms around her, lifting her and wrapping her legs around his waist, kissing her again and carrying her to the bedroom.