Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 15283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
She takes the box of tissues, pulls one out, and dabs her eyes.
“Not completely. I needed a good cry, and the beginning of that movie always gets to me,” she says. “There are a lot of reasons for me to cry. I’m a little mad at my dad about this,” she points back and forth between us. “But I’m also upset about my ex.”
I sit on the bed beside her, grab the remote, and turn the television off.
“I’m sorry I hit him,” I say.
She shrugs. “He had it coming. Probably always did, but I didn’t see the real him until the other day.” She’s quiet for a couple of minutes as she looks down at her hands. “I tried to reach out to him the day of our wedding. I was hoping he would come and rescue me from getting married, that he would finally tell me he loves me, and we would have our happily ever after. As you know, he didn’t come. All that fighting with my dad about him, and it ended up my dad was right all along. Dylan never cared about me.”
“I noticed you were distracted as you walked down the aisle. There was a point where I thought you were going to make a run for it. I was surprised you said I do.”
“Not as surprised as I was. I was upset he didn’t show, and I was angry my dad was forcing me to marry some old guy. No offense.”
“None taken. I told your father I was too old for you, too.”
“Then why did you say you wanted to marry me?”
I grin. “I wish I could tell you exactly why, but I can’t. There was something about you when we passed each other in the foyer that day. It felt right.”
“I felt that too,” she says as she nods. “It was overwhelming, but in a good way.”
“I agree. So I figured, if I felt that way from that brief moment, what would the rest of our lives be like? I texted your father right away that I would marry you.”
“I think that’s where my anger for you first started. I’ve read so many books and seen so many movies where the couple just knows immediately that they’re meant to be. I thought about how easy those fictional couples have it and how difficult things with Dylan and I had always been. I started to question myself about how I felt, and I was so angry that my father was right. I figured I just needed to see him again, hear him say the words, and then I would know for sure. But you know how that went. I had been awful to you, but you still defended me. You protected me. Just like my dad said you would.”
“It was the right thing to do. Following you there wasn’t, but—”
“You were right the first time—it was the right thing to do. I don’t care that you followed me. You were worried about me. You were there for me. I didn’t think people were really like that. I thought stuff like that was just fiction.”
She yawns.
“I should go,” I say. “It’s late, and we both need to sleep.”
“You could sleep here. With me.” She pats her bed. “We are married, you know.”
Did I see something there? Is she talking about sex? I push the thought from my mind and decide I need to get out of her room as quickly as possible.
“Maybe another night,” I say as I stand.
“Why not tonight?” she asks. She gets up and reaches for my tie, then loosens it. “You need to relax more. Not everything needs to be about business. Come on, stay with me tonight. We can make up for lost time and keep talking.”
I can’t be trusted to share a bed with you.
“I had a long flight. I want to shower and get the travel funk off of me. Let’s talk more in the morning. Good night, Emilee.”
“Alright,” she sighs. “Good night, Alex.”
As I walk back to my room, I’m thankful that things are finally getting better between us, but I wonder if it’s a little fast.
Did she replace Dylan with me?
I push the thought from my mind and remind myself of our conversation. She felt the same way I did before the wedding. None of that is based in logic, and it doesn’t have to be. I’m feeling insecure and overthinking as usual. I just need to sleep.
Couldn’t I sleep in her bed? Maybe sleep is all she meant. Now who’s being naïve?
I’m torn and unsure. What did she mean? I’ve been thinking about her sleeping down the hall for weeks now. I’ve imagined what her soft skin would feel like, what she would taste like. I push away the thoughts as I reach my room. The last thing she needs is a dirty old man in her life.