Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
I steady my voice as I enter the room, holding my head higher like I know where I am. “I don’t remember what we fought about now.” God, give me something to go off from here.
“Good. No point in rehashing the past.” He sets the case down and then leans against one of the four posters on the bed frame.
“Actually, I’d like to sit down with you and do exactly that.”
“What good will that do?”
“For me, the closure I’m seeking.”
He blinks several times, burning time. “Why get upset again? It’s in the past. Everything was handled, Céline.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.” Our eyes search each other’s, and I wonder what he’s looking for in mine. Do I hold secrets he wants to uncover as much as he holds them for me? He shifts and moves to the windows, opening the curtains. Particles of dust fill the air as if the room has been closed off for years. Not months. “I know I was wrong, so we can put that behind us and aim for March.”
“What happens in March?”
“Are you wanting to do it sooner?”
I feel like I’m stuck in a mental roundabout of questions. “Do what?”
“Get married.”
“Married?” I squeal, my voice trembling around the word.
“We can skip the wedding, if you don’t want to go through that again, and elope. Then we’ll host a party when we return. You love parties.”
I also love Loch. I don’t even know what to say to him. I need to get my thoughts straight.
“Tourist season picks up in April. You know this.” He seems to be waiting for a reaction, but what can I say? No way am I marrying this guy. “I finished work earlier. I can get the ball rolling.”
“Rolling?” I’m shaking my head. “No. This is too much. Too fast.”
His eyes narrow on me like prey. “Too much, too fast for you?” he asks, the gall of it hitting his tone and expression at the same time. “I’m the one who had to handle the crowd. Me. But it’s too much, too fast for you? Do you know how humiliating it was for me to stand and announce I had a runaway bride?”
Oh my God. So many questions are fighting to be asked, but only one comes out. “Why’d I leave?”
“Because I fucked up. We had a deal, and although I abided by the rules, I used poor judgment that day and disrespected you.”
Naturally, I’m tempted to make him feel better and accept the apology hidden between his words, but then I realize what he means. “You cheated on me.”
“I’m not proud of myself, but I was told you were busy getting ready.”
Not sure why this feels like such a gut punch when I have zero feelings for this man, not an ounce of understanding that I loved him comes to mind or is felt toward him. “You cheated on our wedding day?”
I sigh and look toward the window where the curtains remain closed, keeping the sunshine out of my life. I have a hunch that was par for the course in my former life.
As tempting as it is to probe him for more details, his fidgeting with the pocket of his pants extends, making me anxious as well. “What did you—”
“You left me no choice, Céline.” I’m not sure if it’s the question or my presence that sets him off, but he begins pacing. I stay out of his way, setting my purse on the dresser and pressing my hip against the large piece of furniture. I’m reminded that I don’t even know his name. He’s just a big blank in my memory, and we were engaged, for crying out loud. That really tells me everything about why we didn’t marry.
I have one life, so I’ll only marry someone who shares the same soul. Like Loch.
I’m still lost on the type of relationship we had where he felt he could cheat and still marry me on the same freaking day. Tempering my reaction, I say, “Maybe we should talk when we’re not as heated.”
He replies, “I warned you that this is where we’d end up. Arguing.” He stops and looks at me like he’s seen me a million times and not just returned home. “So we’re on the same page. I told our guests you were seeking treatment. That ended speculation. It also made sense under the circumstances since you ran out during our ceremony.”
“And I have no doubt you made yourself out to be the supportive fiancé.”
“Every story needs a hero.” He’s not mine. Tapping his watch, he says, “I didn’t know you’d be coming home. I already made plans for the evening.”
“As I said, I’m tired.” I grip the dresser’s wood edge behind my back. “I think it’s a good idea for you to stay the night at your place now that I’m back. I’ll be turning in early anyway.”