Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Tonight is poker night. Heath never goes out except on poker night. I didn't think he would even respond to me when I sent the message. I figured he’d be busy and maybe get back to me at some point. I should have known better. We might not be the closest but if I have a question or try to get ahold of him, he always gets back to me instantly. I pick up my bowl of cereal, shoving a spoonful into my mouth.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to make you something?”
“No thank you,” I tell Marth. I love her cooking but this is the only night that I don’t have to sit down at the table for dinner. It feels weird to sit down for a meal without Heath. It’s the same thing every time with me. I think that I hate having dinner with him every night until it’s poker night and I feel out of sorts because he’s not here to have dinner with. I don’t know what is wrong with me. It almost feels as though I miss him but we barely speak to each other when he’s here. It’s complicated.
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Marth heads out of the kitchen, leaving me alone to finish my cereal. I sit up straighter when I hear familiar steps heading toward me. He even walks with authority. He always carries himself with so much confidence. My thighs clench together again thinking about how sexy my husband actually is. If only things were different between us. If only he’d married me because he loved me. Not for me to be one more of his many possessions.
“I put more money into your account,” Heath says as he enters the kitchen. He stops walking when he sees me sitting on the counter. I swing my legs back and forth trying to be casual so he doesn’t realize how my body reacts to him.
“I don’t need more of your money.” I jump down off the counter. I don’t know why I actually thought about buying the grocery store. It was a silly idea but an idea that started to come to life in my mind. It would be something of my own.
“We’re married. What’s mine is yours.” I peek over my shoulder at him as I set my bowl in the sink. His eyes snap up from my bare legs to meet mine. Was he actually checking me out? I turn, leaning up against the sink. My robe slips off one shoulder. I watch as his eyes follow its path. I have the urge to go to him but I stay put. I don’t know what has changed but suddenly I feel the need to be close to him. His possessive words play on a loop in my mind. I can’t get them to stop. I’m not sure I really want to.
“We’re married for now,” I poke. His jaw clenches.
“I’ll never let you divorce me so you can get that thought out of your pretty little head.”
“This is ridiculous.” I throw my hands up. “We aren't even really married!” I want to stomp my damn foot like a two-year-old but I get control of myself. I’m a grown up, I remind myself.
“I have a marriage license that says otherwise.” He folds his arms over his chest. I do the same. His gaze flicks down to my chest. I look down, seeing that I’ve pushed my boobs up, making them almost peek out of my top. I drop my hands, putting them on my hips instead. He’s being ridiculous so he doesn’t get the pleasure of seeing any of the goodies.
“It was a business deal you made with my father five years ago. Isn't it time for us both to move on?”
“I’m not moving anywhere.” His lips twitch. “Except if you’re ready to move your things into the master bedroom finally. Then I’m all about this moving thing.”
“Why do you keep saying these things? You really think we’re going to have kids? I don’t think that was part of the deal you struck with my father.” Every time he hints about something more there’s a longing inside of me that comes pushing forward. It’s one I try to keep hidden away because it might be something I’ll never have. No use in getting my hopes up only to have them shot down.
“I know the deal I struck.” He drops his arms. I swear he always says as little as possible. I can get more words from him when I text him apparently. I still don’t understand why he agreed to the marriage. What does he really get from it?
“Don’t you want to fall in love? Be happy?” I stare at him but he doesn't say anything. “Forget it. If I want to buy the store I’ll figure it out myself.” I go to move past him to head toward my room, but he reaches out his hand, wrapping it around my arm. I stop, looking up at his too handsome face again, not understanding why he would ever need a fake marriage.