Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
I place the wand down on the desk and chew on my lip as I gather my thoughts.
This morning I snuck out of bed before Nathan awoke, it’s now only seven fifteen and I doubt he’ll be up any time soon. I feel the need to flee before he wakes. At least I have a plan on how to handle this situation. Albeit not a very good one.
My hopes are dashed when my bedroom door swings open and he strolls in, looking freshly showered and ready for the day. “We need to talk.”
“Yeah,” I agree because we really do need to talk. Even though I don’t want to address anything that has happened between us lately.
His long legs carry him to me in three quick strides, his hand reaches for the desk drawer. I watch him pull out the envelope that has been the cause of my nightmares as of late. “You haven’t brought this up, but I can see you’ve read it.”
My eyes meet his in the mirror, my mouth falls open. I have no words to explain why I’ve not said anything. Other than the fact I just don’t want to. That and he’s been poorly.
“I can only assume this means you’re thinking about it?” His sentence is a question, I notice his nerves. Nathan is nervous. He lets out a laugh, “Or by the looks of your panicked eyes and trembling hands I’d say you already have an answer. And I’m guessing it’s not the answer I want to hear.”
My mouth closes, then opens and then closes again. I let out a sigh and let my head fall forward, my hair follows, creating a curtain between me and the room.
“You won’t even consider it?” My eyes are once again drawn to him when I hear the sadness to his tone.
Honestly? “I can’t.”
He stands silent, his stare unwavering, “Very well.”
“Nathan,” I reach out, twisting on the bench so I can grab his wrist. “It’s not you.”
“No,” he snarls and tugs his wrist free. “It’s Caleb.”
What the hell is that supposed to mean? “I love Caleb. I’m his fiancée Nathan.” I follow him out of my room and practically chase him down the stairs and into the living room. He stops at the window, his hands gripping the frame as he stares through the rain splattered glass.
“It’s time for you to move on Guinevere.” I daren’t open my mouth for fear of crying or verbally attacking him. “I’m sorry he’s gone, truly I am but you need to let go.”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” I say to the floor, wishing I could curl my legs to my chest. Stupid fat belly.
“You need to talk about it sooner or later.”
I shake my head slowly, closing my eyes for a moment, “Yes and when I do, it won’t be with you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He sounds genuinely affronted. “He was my brother, if you should talk to anyone it should be me.”
“You have no tact,” I look him dead in the eye. “You have no tact and no compassion. I’m his fiancée, this is my decision. When I’m ready to let go, I’ll let go.”
“Therein lies your problem,” why is he speaking to me like this? “You said, I’m his fiancée. You were his fiancée. Past tense.”
“Christ, you’re a dick,” I snarl and instantly realise my mistake.
He’s away from the window and in seconds he’s in front of me. I cower under his harsh glare and scramble away from him. Darting for the hall, I don’t even make it through the archway as an arm wraps around my waist directly above my stomach. It doesn’t hurt and he’s not rough but it’s strong enough to stop me in my tracks.
I feel the cool leather of his gloved hand as it moves my hair from my shoulder. His chest is pressed against my back and his lips slightly touch the shell of my ear.
“Let this be your last warning,” he whispers dangerously into my ear. “If you disobey me again, I will put you over my knee, pregnant or not.”
“That’s not even possible, have you seen the size of my belly?”
I feel him tense.
“I’m not a child, if you hit me I will report you.”
He tenses further.
My body is trembling, I can’t stop it. I’ve never been so scared in my life.
I feel his chest shaking and for a moment I think he’s crying. I’m wrong, he’s laughing. What the hell is wrong with this guy? “If you say so Gwen.”
“This isn’t funny.”
He stops laughing and his body stills, “No, it’s not funny, you’re right.”
“We need to get past this and we needed to do it yesterday.” Pulling away from him I walk a few steps before turning, my body tense in preparation of the argument that we’re no doubt going to have. “I don’t know what’s going through your mind and I don’t know how you’ve rationalised this, but it doesn’t make sense.”