Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“Oh yes, you are,” I mutter, opening the door for her to exit, and giving her my arm to hold again, as a nurse comes into the waiting room.
“Glad someone’s here,” the nurse says with a smile. “She isn’t allowed to drive right now.”
“I know,” Fran says, rolling her eyes.
The nurse presses on. “Having her husband with her is of crucial importance right now, sir. Head trauma is so often underestimated.”
I nearly choke. Her husband?
Fran flushes, her mouth parted, but she doesn’t speak at first.
The nurse hands me a packet of papers explaining her recommendations, and leaves us with a parting admonition. “First thing next week, come back for a second consultation.” She waves cheerfully. "Have a good day!"
Fran makes a face at her back, and I give her a sharp little tug on the hand. Brat.
"Come on, wife," I say, relishing the sound of that a lot more than I should. And even more so, enjoying the look on her face.
I wait until the doctor’s office door closes behind us before I ask her for an explanation.
"Any reason in particular she called me your husband?”
Fran sort of sputters, and it's the first time I think I’ve ever seen her at a loss for words.
“You don’t think I had anything to do with that, do you?”
I huff out a laugh.
She snorts. “Well… I may have told a little white lie.”
I don't know if I'm amused or angry. "What lie is that?"
“Now don’t go getting any ideas…”
“Fran.”
Her voice is a low hiss. “Well… apparently on the paperwork I still have a husband, and didn't really want to explain to them that I wasn't with anyone anymore. And they were also really getting on my arse about making sure I had somebody with me, and I'm feeling really tired…" She puts her hand to her brow melodramatically. “It isn’t just that, Tate.”
“Then what is it?”
“I just didn’t want to have to explain to them I'm not married anymore. It's a story that I don't enjoy repeating. You have to understand that my ex-husband's parents haven't told anybody, and the doctor apparently is best friends with him?” She makes a sour face. “Awkward."
“Not your fault.” I scowl at the door behind us, half of a mind to go back in and tell them the truth myself. “You aren’t the one who did anything wrong."
I remember decking the arsehole and wish that I had another chance to. I hate this for her, that she has to deal with the ramifications of his decisions even now.
Is she that lonely that she settled for a douche like him?
Is she that desperate that she thought he’d make a good mate?
Does she have such a low opinion of herself that she doesn't think she could do better? Why?
“In any event, no one needs to know you’re not my husband.”
I snort. “Except the doctor and nurse. Right. Makes perfect sense to me.”
“Aye,” she says, with a laugh. “See, you’re catching on?”
“Should probably buy you a ring, then.”
“What?”
“You know, just in case any other fuckin’ bloke gets a wild thought…”
She doesn’t reply, and all humor’s gone out of her eyes. Her cheeks have pinked a bit, and she bites her lip. Maybe I’ve pushed this too far.
“I need to go to the bookstore now.”
“Aye.”
Good. Exactly where I need to go, too.
My fingers linger on her elbow, the soft skin beneath my hand warm and soft. Just like her.
I don't want to be standing next to her on the street, pretending to be someone I’m not. I want her for myself. I want to kiss those pretty cheeks, those pretty lips, until they part and she moans into my mouth. I want to wrap my fingers around the back of her neck as I kiss her into fucking oblivion. I want to do so many things to her I don't even know where to begin.
"After work, I'll get my things and head home," she says sadly. I don't know why I didn't expect her to say this. She knows she can stay at our home forever. I sure as fuck am not sleeping on the couch again tonight, which means only one thing. She can't stay in the family house.
“You have a place with us if you’d like.”
“Your father, though.”
“Aye, we have guest rooms, though, and he won’t touch you if you’re with me.”
“Are you sure about that?”
I’m bloody well not.
“I’m fine, Tate, I can go home and just make sure I call into work and take it easy. Islan and Paisley and my other mates will help me navigate what I need to do from home, while I recover. I promise, no driving, no heavy lifting… no actual fun at all.”
I grunt in reply but don't say anything at first. I don't want to leave her. I don't want her to be alone.