Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
She stopped my heart.
She’s always stopped my heart, but seeing her in that wedding dress, walking toward me? There are no words. No amount of planning or envisioning could’ve prepared me for that.
Mira walking to me instead of leaving me? I grin. I’m a big fan.
I remove my tie, unbutton and untuck my shirt, desperate for relief in some form. Everything feels too clingy—too tight against my skin. Hell, even my skin feels too tight against my body. And it’s only day one.
“That’s much better,” Mira says, returning. She’s bare-legged with a giant T-shirt hitting her mid-thigh. “I know this isn’t super sexy honeymoon attire, but since we aren’t having sex, I didn’t think it mattered.”
I pop the champagne and pour us each a flute. The bubbles rise to the top as quickly as my pulse.
“I hate to tell you this,” I say, handing her one. “But a giant T-shirt makes you no less sexy than lingerie.”
She hums, grinning. “Then what are my choices?”
“There aren’t any.” I smile, too, and touch our glasses together. I bring my flute to my lips. “I’d say you’re fucked, but that feels like false advertising.”
She giggles before taking a sip. I love the way her cheeks blush. It’s such a natural thing that reminds me of times when things between us were easy. When there wasn’t emotional baggage and trauma involved, and we could sit on the grass and stare up at the stars without having to say a word. We could just … be.
A knock comes from the door, and I set my glass down. “I ordered you a burger.”
“Pickles and onions?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.” I tip the server and then roll in the cart with our meals. “Look at this.”
Mira curls up on a chair by the window, peering across the Cumberland River. The lights below us are spectacular, and the floor-to-ceiling windows create an unobstructed view of the city. It’s too bad that it doesn’t hold a candle to my wife.
She looks at me. “Look at what?”
I hold up a small round cake with the congratulations printed on top. “They sent us a tiny wedding cake.”
“You’re going to demolish that in the middle of the night, aren’t you?”
“Probably.” I chuckle. “Where do you want to eat?”
She looks around. “I don’t know. Right here?”
I place our food on the coffee table and then sit in the chair across from her. We get situated and then eat quietly, pausing to comment about the juiciness of the burger or the crispiness of the fries. I’d love to know what she’s thinking—what’s going through her pretty little head—but I don’t ask. With Mira, you can push too hard without knowing it.
Finally, she dusts her hands off and finishes her Coke. “You know what’s weird?”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“I keep having to remind myself that we’re married because this feels so … normal. And I can’t figure out if that’s a good sign or a bad one.”
“It’s not like we haven’t ever shared a meal before bed.”
She holds up her ring finger, and the diamond that I picked out sparkles. “This isn’t normal.” A grin kisses her lips as she twists her hand to inspect it again. “This is beautiful, Hart. Like, seriously beautiful. It makes me feel bad. I don’t know how much you spent, but it’s too much.”
“I had some extra cash.”
“Okay.” She laughs, shaking her head. “Although I think you’ve lost your mind, I love it. It’s perfect. And I’ll give it back once this is over—”
“Hush.”
Her brows wrinkle. “What? It wouldn’t be fair to keep this. It had to have cost you a fortune.”
I set my empty Coke on the table and sigh. “The cost doesn’t matter. It’s my money—well, it’s ours now, I guess. But—”
“Hart …”
“I’m not going to think about what happens next year every day until then.” I search her eyes. “I know we have our rules, and I’m well aware of the terms of this agreement, but can we just not go there?”
She sinks back against the cushion and nods slowly. A somberness crosses her features for the briefest moment before she smiles at me again.
My heart pounds as I await her response. I’m not asking her to pretend that this is real, and I hope she doesn’t take it that way. Sure, that would be nice, but I’m not convinced that it would be in either of our best interests. All I want is to be able to have a conversation, to enjoy a day with my wife, and not think about divorce.
“You’re right,” she says, yawning. “Not about the ring, but about everything else.” She stands, stretching her arms over her head until the shirt barely covers her ass. “You ready for bed?”
My eyes are glued to the hem of her shirt until it returns to its original position. “Sure.”