Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“You left the door unlocked.”
“I didn’t want to sleep without a door.”
“I would have fixed it for you if I’d broken it.”
“Ah, that’s so sweet.” She hadn’t looked at me once since I’d been there. She reached for a bottle of wine and poured two glasses. “It’s so nice to have a good man around.”
Her sarcasm felt like an insult.
“Why are you here?” She leaned against the counter and looked at me for the first time, her ankles crossed.
My eyes locked on hers, admiring that beautiful neck and those full lips. It was hard to look at her without staring. But that was all I wanted to do…stare. I used to watch her sleep beside me. Used to watch her relax in the bathtub. Some people cherished paintings and sculptures, but she was my art.
“We need to discuss the wedding.”
“You want roses or lilies?” Her eyes were ice-cold.
“We aren’t doing this at the town hall.”
Her eyebrows furrowed like she couldn’t believe what I’d just said. “Then what’s your idea?”
“A real wedding.”
“Why?”
“Because this is the only wedding I’m ever going to have,” I said. “I’m not the most romantic guy, but I’m not getting married in jeans.”
“You can wear a suit to the town hall—”
“I know you want that, too.”
“Yes, for a real marriage—”
“This is a real marriage—”
“It’s fucking coercion.” She grabbed the glass on the counter beside her and took a big sip.
“Let’s get married at the church,” I said. “Have the reception at the Four Seasons.”
She stared at me and took another drink.
“We can probably have it planned within a month.”
She looked thoroughly disinterested. “Are you asking me to plan it?”
“I assumed you would want to—”
“I want to sign a sheet of paper in jeans. You’re the one who wants all this.”
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll hire someone to do it for us.”
“Great.” She took a drink of her wine again before she moved to the dining table and took a seat.
I grabbed the extra wineglass and took the seat beside her.
She drank from her glass as she looked out the window, the world dark and cold.
I stared at the side of her face, wishing I could just tell her the truth, have her look at me the way she used to. She didn’t hate me, but she seemed indifferent to me, and that was somehow worse.
“Is there something else you wanted to discuss?” Her eyes remained directed out the window.
“Is my place okay? Or did you want to move elsewhere?”
“Is your place okay for what?”
“For us to live.”
She stared down at her wineglass and slowly traced the rim with her fingertip. “I’m keeping my apartment.”
“To rent out?”
“No,” she said simply. “To live.”
I stared hard at the side of her face. “That’s not how this is going to work.”
“You said we didn’t have to sleep together.”
“Begrudgingly,” I retorted. “And I assumed you meant a different bedroom in the house.”
“What does it matter if it’s in the same house—”
“Because we’re husband and wife. I can’t protect you if I’m not with you.”
“I don’t need your protection—”
“Yes, you do,” I snapped.
Her eyes returned to the window.
“I’d appreciate it if you chose to embrace this rather than resist it.”
“You want me to embrace a marriage I’m being forced into with a man who broke my fucking heart?” She turned to look at me, and the mirage of emptiness was shattered by the emotion in her eyes. “You want me to be excited to be with a man who has no respect for me? A man who could dump me and replace me overnight?” She turned back to her wine. “Lucky me.”
I closed my eyes and rubbed my temple, self-loathing I didn’t deserve washing over me. “Scarlett.”
She didn’t look at me.
I wished I could fucking tell her. Tell her that her father was the one who had no respect. “I’m so sorry for hurting you. You have no idea how much it hurts me to listen to you say all of that.” To be unaware of the truth, to think I would ever replace her with anyone else, that the one person she could trust was the one she’d been taught to despise.
As if my words meant nothing to her, she took a drink.
“I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
She focused on her wine instead of me.
“Scarlett—”
“You can’t make it up to me, Axel.”
“I can if you let me.”
Her finger returned to the rim of her glass, and she traced it.
“Scarlett—”
“I thought you were different. Maybe that’s why it hurt so much…because I really believed that. But I should have known that a man so sexy and kind was too good to be true, that you would be like all the others, distracted by the next piece of ass.”
It took all my strength to keep my mouth shut. I continued to protect my parents when they didn’t deserve my protection, but they also didn’t deserve to die either.