Page 14 of Better Off Wed
Gideon’s presence filled the car. It was a choking, heavy thing. I thought of the touch of his finger on my chin and the way he’d snapped into action when he saw the slashed tire. A big, strong man taking control. Making sure I was safe. Taking care of me.
And I realized I was turned on.
I gulped, thinking of what was to come. Him and me, at some cottage in the woods, alone. On our wedding night. I worked to keep my breathing steady. I thought I was doing a pretty good job until Gideon asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Huh?” I replied, cheerful, smiling big.
His dark gaze flicked over, then back to the winding road. “You’re breathing faster than before.”
I blinked. “Oh.”
“Regretting the choices that brought you to this moment?”Gideon asked, sardonic and bitter, and I was pretty sure he wasn’t looking for an answer.
I gave him one anyway. “Not exactly,” I hedged.Not because of you.
There was a long pause.
“It was probably some dumb kid,” Gideon finally said in a low voice.
“What?”
“The tire. I don’t think it was directed at you, specifically.”
“Oh. Right.” I let out an awkward laugh. “Yeah.”
Gideon glanced over, frowning, then back at the winding road. He was quiet after that. My breathing slowed a bit, and I felt better.
The big, looming problem of tonight was still there, though. Soon, we’d be at the cottage, and we might progress to the part of the evening where married people were supposed to do what married people did. And I wouldn’t—couldn’t—do that. Sex was something I desperately wanted and could never have.
And he was a one out of ten. Even if Icouldhave sex, Gideon wouldn’t want to. He’d made that abundantly clear. Every time he touched me, it seemed like he couldn’t get away fast enough. Every time he looked at me, he grimaced.
It should have been a relief to know that my new husband didn’t want me in that way—wouldn’t subject me to pain and pressure—but it only made me feel worse. Small and sad and rejected.
We turned down a narrow road, a few low-hanging tree branches brushing against the roof of the car, and then a dark house appeared at the end of the drive.
It was a small, gorgeous stone building nestled in the trees,with a little patch of overgrown lawn at the front. A two-car garage had been built onto the house, almost as big as the rest of the building. I slid out of the car and looked around, eyes flicking to the hill that sloped down toward the water. The sky was deep blue over the water now, a few stars flickering to life.
Even without it being fully dark, there were more stars than I’d ever seen in Manhattan. My throat went tight as I listened to the wind in the trees and the distant lapping of waves on the shore. Crickets chirped, and the trees creaked as they bent and swayed. This place was isolated. Peaceful. No one would find me here.
I could turn my phone off, and all the pressure of the business and my family’s expectations would be gone. Until this very moment, I hadn’t realized how much I needed that. How heavy the pressure to perform had weighed on me.
Nestled in this forest, hours of road away from everything I knew, I felt like I could simplybe.
Similar to the feeling I got when I stood at the top of the church steps, a wave of yearning hit me. I was sotired. I wanted to stop and rest. I wanted to curl up in a nest of pillows and blankets and sleep for an eternity. I wanted to cut myself off from the world, from my family, from my obligations, and start over. A new life. A newme.
I didn’t want this to end in six weeks.
“I’ll show you inside,” Gideon grumbled, grabbing one suitcase out of the trunk. I turned away from the view, and he hit a button on the wall to close the garage door. We went in through an interior door, took off our shoes, and padded on hardwood floors toward a decently sized open kitchen/living/dining room. Big, comfy couches framed a gigantic fireplace, with awall of windows showing the starry sky and darkening view beyond.
It was clean, but it had the smell of closed-off, barely-used spaces. Framed sketches decorated the walls—portraits, landscapes, and one particularly good sketch of a curled-up kitten—and a big basket of neatly folded blankets sat near the fireplace. Cozy.Adorable.
My heart soared as my eyes scanned the space. I was in love.
I turned to watch Gideon set my bag down and head back to the garage to haul in the last one. His back shifted, muscles visible through the thin white fabric of his button-down shirt. I remembered I was still wearing his jacket, and I took the opportunity to sniff its collar one last time when he was out of the room. Then I took it off and draped it over the back of the sofa before trailing my fingers over the knotty pine dining table and crossing to the wall of windows.
While I was admiring the view, my phone chimed. I dug through my tote bag, which I’d dropped on the couch with the jacket, and found my phone. When I turned the screen toward me, a familiar pit opened in my stomach. It was the family group chat.
MOM
