Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“She’s comin’ from literally nothin’, bud,” he said kindly. “With a suitcase and a bunch of shitty fuckin’ memories. I know it’s all afterglow and novelty now, but the sooner you give her a little independence and start makin’ an actual fuckin’ life, the better off you’ll both be.”
“Yeah, I hear you.”
I spent the rest of the day thinking about what my dad had said and avoiding Rumi. Fuck him. I wasn’t trying to keep Esther a prisoner in my house and comparing me to her fuckwad father was a low blow.
I couldn’t deny that on the surface, it looked bad, though. Dad was right. I’d left Esther in the house all morning with no way to call anyone if she needed to and no way to get anywhere since I’d forgotten to leave the Mustang key at home.
The day had started out so well but got worse by the hour, and by the time I got on my bike to head home, I was in a foul mood. I not only felt like an absolute piece of shit for leaving Esther stranded all day, but I also just fucking missed her. Not talking to her at all after spending the whole week with her beside me felt seriously fucking wrong, and I was worried that she’d spent the day needing me with no way to get a hold of me.
Using the garage door opener so I could park my bike also reminded me that I hadn’t even gotten her a decent wedding gift either and now it was a week late.
“You’re home,” Esther called happily as I stepped inside the kitchen and kicked my boots off. She rounded the corner and stood there, fully dressed and her hair pulled back into a tight bun, the slippers mocking me from her feet.
“I am,” I confirmed, frozen in place as the anxiety I’d been fighting all day disappeared.
“It was quiet here today without your music going,” she said, smiling. “How was work?”
“It was fine.”
Her smile wobbled a little.
“Worked on a Honda, not my favorite but it’s not exactly hard either,” I continued, trying to get my wits about me. She was still there, and she was fine and she didn’t even seem pissed that I’d left her while she was asleep that morning with no way to leave or contact anyone.
“I deep cleaned the bathrooms,” she informed me as I took off my jacket and laid it on the counter. “They were pretty clean already, but I went over them again. I was going to make dinner, but we don’t really, um, have anything.”
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, my stomach sinking. “Have you eaten anything?”
What the hell was wrong with me? I’d left my pregnant wife with no food in the house and no way to get any more. I wasn’t just an asshole. I was a complete waste of space.
“I had some instant oatmeal,” she replied easily, moving toward me. “And you had some soup in the cupboard, so I ate that too. Oh, and some cheesy crackers.”
Her arms wrapped around my waist and her cheek hit my sternum and I felt like the worst person on the entire planet. Why wasn’t she pissed? It was like she hadn’t even noticed how badly I’d fucked up.
“I’m so sorry, sugar,” I murmured, kissing the top of her head. “Get some shoes on, yeah? I’ll take you into town to get some groceries.”
“Right now?” she asked, tipping her head up to look at me.
“Right fuckin’ now.”
“But you just got home,” she argued. “Don’t you want to relax for a few minutes?”
“I’ll relax when you’ve got a phone and enough groceries in the house to cook yourself a decent meal.”
“Oh, I’m getting a phone, too?” she asked teasingly.
“You need one.”
“Who am I going to call?” Her hands roamed over my back, sliding under my cut and my brain short circuited.
“Anyone you want—” I snapped my mouth shut. That wasn’t exactly true. “Call me,” I corrected. “Or my mom, or my sisters, or whatever.”
“But I still can’t call my parents,” she said, leaning against me.
“Not yet, baby. Give us a little more time, yeah?”
“We’re married now,” she pointed out. “What would it hurt?”
“We might be married, but there’s still a whole lot of shit goin’ on. Just a little more time, alright?”
“Okay,” she replied, trying and failing to smile. “They probably think I’m still at the cabin anyway. It’s not like they’re missing me. I’ll go grab my shoes.”
“And a coat,” I reminded her as she pulled away.
I tried not to focus on the fact that she thought her family still believed she was at the cabin or the fact that it hurt her knowing that they probably hadn’t even noticed her missing. The thought of telling her that we’d blown up the cabin and her family thought she was dead made my guts twist. I was still getting to know Esther, and we were still feeling each other out, but I did know that if she had all of the information, she’d be on the phone with her family faster than I could stop her. She’d never let them believe she was dead, even if it kept her safe. I wasn’t willing to risk it.