Page 114 of Clinically Delicious
Gabriel is my husband.
I have a husband.
Holy Crap! I have a husband!
His hand slid between my thighs, and I bit back a moan.
“Tonight,” he said against my mouth. “After everyone leaves. I’m going to take my time with you.”
Oh my God.
He’s going to kill me.
I’m going to die in this closet from sexual frustration and anxiety.
“Promise?” I whispered.
“Promise.”
He kissed me once more, slow, deep, and devastating, then stepped back, adjusting his shirt like he hadn’t just made me forget how to form coherent thoughts.
“Come on,” he said, offering his hand. “Let’s go be normal.”
Normal.
Right.
Because this is totally normal.
By four PM, most of the boxes were unpacked.
By five PM, my parents had left with promises to “check in soon” and my mother’s pointed look that said, “we’re going to have a serious conversation about this later.”
By six PM, Gabriel suggested we take Megan to the clinic to pick up some paperwork he’d forgotten.
The clinic.
Where he works.
Where everyone knows him.
Where I’m now going to show up as his wife.
“Is that a good idea?” I asked carefully.
“It’s fine,” Gabriel said. “It’ll be quick. And Megan loves visiting the clinic.”
Right.
Totally fine.
Nothing weird about showing up at your husband’s workplace less than forty-eight hours after getting married.
The clinic was quiet when we arrived—just Winnie at the front desk and a couple of patients in the waiting room.
“Dr. Lyon!” Winnie’s face lit up. Then she saw me. “Oh! Cate! I heard the good news. Congratulations!”
She heard. Of course she heard.
