Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
A discipline meant to reinforce the perpetual state of childhood women were kept in until they did their godly duty and became a wife. It was designed to be an incentive, but all it ever created was shame. A reinforcement that we were objects, and our only goal should be to move from one place on the path of servitude to the next.
Females were allowed to move to the adults’ table once they were married off, usually at sixteen, but, since I had been so rebellious and strong-willed, my father had great difficulty finding anyone open to accepting me into their household.
At least that’s what he told me. I always had a hard time believing that. Not because it wasn’t true, I was difficult, different, never fitting in with our people. That was true. The reason I always had my doubts was that my father didn’t usually seek permission or approval, he didn’t care if they wanted to be married. He simply told them it was a match and expected everyone to follow his orders. So, I always wondered, and if he was lying, for what reason? Did he make it up, or did no other family want to take me in? And if not, why not? What was so wrong with me? And that’s how messed up this whole thing is, they’ve groomed me to feel insecure about something I didn’t even want.
This “family dinner” will show me how the rest of the world lives. I’ve seen movies, read books, but nothing compares to the real thing.
Turning the corner into the living room, I’m startled when I see Lex stand.
He is wearing dark slacks, a black belt and shoes, and a crisp blue button-up shirt that sets off his dark hair, and highlights the green in his eyes. He is so handsome!
I rub my thighs together, my core heating up just by looking at him. This man, who holds more of my faith in his hands than he’ll ever know.
Looking down, I realize he is holding flowers. A small bouquet of purple and yellow wildflowers. He stretches them out in my direction as his free hand covers his heart, and he looks spellbound. We are caught in a moment with each other that makes me feel so connected to him. He, appreciating me, and I, appreciating him.
And our baby growing between us.
Stepping forward, I accept the flowers, bury my nose in them to hide at least some of my overly emotional response, and allow him to pull my hand up to meet his lips.
I blush, never having seen or experienced that gesture outside of the movies. I try to remind myself he has probably done it a hundred times before, but somehow, that still does not make it any less special for me. It is still my first time. And it came from my baby’s daddy.
“You look…magnificent.”
I shake my head, feeling shy, and he tucks one knuckle under my chin to lift it and looks me in the eyes.
“I’m serious, Jude. You have taken my breath away.” He grins, igniting mine in response. “My family is going to love you!”
I hide my eyes before they well with tears again. My emotions are running higher than normal, it seems.
“I need to put these in water.”
“Only if you promise me something first.”
I look at him, searching his eyes.
“Will you promise?”
“How can I promise something if I don’t know what it is I’m promising?”
“You’ll just have to trust me. You’ll like it though, I promise,” he says with a wink.
Ooooh, he is good!
That makes me grin, and I nod.
“I want one kiss, at the moment of my choosing, tonight. Here, there, in the truck, wherever. At some point, I want one kiss from you while you’re wearing that dress.” He points to it as he looks down.
I flush, both from the compliment and the idea that he might kiss me in front of his family, which would be way too much.
“Agreed. But only in private!”
“Deal.”
“All right. Enough of all that.” I wave at him, embarrassed again as I turn for the kitchen. “I’ll meet you in the truck.”
“Oh, no, you won’t. I will wait here and escort you out. It’s only proper.”
Another rush of emotion hits me. Proper. He wants to treat me proper. He has no idea how much that one small sentence means to me. I’m grateful I’m already in the kitchen, and he can’t see my face. I brush away a fat tear that makes its way down my cheek and chuff at my girlishness.
Moments later, we are off.
The drive is long. Thirty minutes feels like four hours because I have no idea where we are going or how long it will take to get there until we arrive. I fidget the entire way.
When we pull up, I see a large, two-story house with a converted garage, so the drive and street are filled with cars. Apparently, we are the last to arrive.