Page 206 of The Reason I Married Him
It was all for show.
And what a show it was.
Then he whisked me away, looking like the doting husband stealing me away for a few days. And as I sit here, in the cabin that brought on this entire plan, all I can think about is how I wish he felt the same way about me. Or how I wish I wasn’t feeling so drawn toward him and didn’t rely on him for comfort or peace of mind. I wish that weren’t the case at all, but it is.
And now that we’re alone in this cabin with two bedrooms, all I can think about is how disappointed I am. How I’m going to have to sleep in this bunk bed alone, with Wyatt a few feet away, enjoying a bed all to himself.
Is he happy about it?
Does he wish I asked to sleep with him?
Probably not, or else he wouldn’t have asked me what room I wanted to be in. He would have just put our stuff in one room.
That’s fine.
Going into marrying him, I knew that I was carrying these feelings and that he probably didn’t reciprocate them. And now that we’re married and he has the cabin—or he will have it when the paperwork goes through—there’s no need for him to continue to woo me and keep me on his good side.
Totally fine.
The bathroom door opens, and he says, “All yours.”
I lift from the bed, grab my shirt for the night and my toiletry bag, and move into the bathroom, but not before he stops me with his hand on my stomach. Shoulder to shoulder, I peer up at him.
“Are you sure about your bed?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say even though I want to say no. Even though I want to tell him I desperately want him to hold me tonight. Even though I wish he’d ask me to sleep with him.
“Okay.” He studies me for a few seconds and then says, “Thank you again for today. It means so much to me.”
“We both won today,” I say.
“We did,” he says, his thumb rubbing over my stomach and making it flip with butterflies. “I’m going to make sure everything is locked up.”
“Sounds good,” I say, moving into the bathroom and closing the door.
I set my things down and stare into the mirror as an annoying bout of emotions hits me all at once.
I like him so much.
Too much.
To the point that I actually feel my throat grow tight over the thought of not sleeping with him tonight. What would he do if I just showed up at his door and asked if I could sleep with him? The worst he could say would be no. Then I’d have a really clear idea of where he stands.
I brush my teeth, contemplating what to do. I know if Cassidy were here and I asked her, she’d tell me to go for it, to throw caution to the wind and put myself out there. She never took what she wanted when it came to her feelings. I know she’d use her past mistakes to help me decide.
I spit out my toothpaste and rinse my mouth. When I dry it, I look in the mirror again and whisper, “I don’t know, Cassidy, should I go for it?”
Deep down, I know she’d tell me to do it. If he doesn’t want me, he doesn’t want me, and I’ll move on. But I’ll never know unless I try.
I strip out of my clothes, including my underwear, and I put on one of my Almond Store shirts, this one black with white writing. I finger comb my hair and then splash some water on my face before drying it off. I grip the counter and take a few deep breaths.
Just do it, Aubree.
Just go in there and ask if you can sleep with him.
If he says yes, that’s when you make the next move.
You have to try.
