Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
The moment doesn’t last long. He rattles the doorknob again. “You’re acting like a child,” he snaps, the quiet, desperate note of his voice replaced with irritation in its purest form.
Strangely though, it’s this irritated Colin that has me climbing off the bed and crossing to the door to unlock it. He’s quite right, sitting in a locked room is a bit immature, and I refuse to participate in any activity that would allow him to transfer blame for this situation onto me.
He’s in the wrong, 100 percent, and I want to make sure he knows it.
The moment I open the door and see his face, I realize he does know it. I wouldn’t go so far as to say he looks miserable, but he’s definitely not a happy camper. He’s pulled on his robe, a heavy, dark blue thing that he wears whenever I’m around in the early mornings or late nights, as though to protect his virtue.
And now I understand why. Probably for Rebecca’s sake.
Speaking of her …
I glance down the hallway. “Is she still here?” I keep my voice low.
“In the kitchen,” he answers curtly, his voice equally low. “May I come in?”
The fact that he doesn’t just push his way past me the way he usually does when he wants something confirms my suspicion that he knows exactly how badly he’s messed up.
I step aside so he can enter, surprised at first when he shuts the bedroom door, until I realize he’s probably just trying to keep his two women separate.
Two women. I’m trying very hard not to think of him as a pig, and failing.
“So, a fiancée and a wife,” I say casually. “Tricky, tricky. No wonder you’re in such a bad mood all the time.”
He meets my gaze. “I was going to tell you.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” I say, letting my voice take on a breezy tone. “You were probably just struggling to find the time and opportunity, right? It must have been difficult, what with us living across the hall from each other.”
He closes his eyes.
“Sorry, sorry,” I say, holding up my hands. “You talk. I eagerly await all the excellent reasons why you couldn’t have bothered to mention that you were engaged to another woman.”
He opens his eyes again, and they seem more silver than blue in this light, and I wonder if that’s what happens to them when he feels guilty.
“I don’t have one.” His voice is quiet.
“Don’t have what?’
“A good reason. I don’t have any reason. I kept meaning to tell you, but the time never seemed right, the words never came out, and … I don’t know why. I realize that’s not an excuse.”
“No, it’s really not,” I agree. “Honestly, dude, I have to ask, where has she even been? Have you kept her locked in a cellar somewhere? Did she just escape? Is that why she showed up this morning looking ready to throw down?”
He rubs a hand over his face. “It’s a bit complicated.”
“You don’t say.”
His hands drop, and he looks a little lost. “Shit. Shit.”
I smile, because it’s about as close to Colin losing control as I’ve seen. And God help me, even though I’m mad, which I have every right to be, and a little hurt, which I probably don’t have a right to be, I feel myself caving.
“You’re really engaged to her?” I ask softly.
He hesitates, his blue silver eyes flicking away from me and then back. “Yes.”
I get a weird sinking sensation in my stomach, but his answer tells me everything I need to know: that this isn’t about me.
“Colin,” I say gently. “You’re married to me for fake. If you’re going to marry her for real, I’m really not the one you should be groveling to right now.”
I’m giving him full permission to exit this conversation to go make things right with Rebecca, and I expect to see relief on his face, and honestly, wouldn’t mind a little gratitude. A kissing of feet at my benevolence wouldn’t be out of place.
He doesn’t move.
Instead he stands there, looking at me with a conflicted expression. Then he frowns, as though irritated with himself for feeling conflicted. Actually, scratch that. Knowing him, he’s probably irritated with me, even though I spelled out his next move for him.
Maybe I wasn’t clear enough. I lift my arm and point to the door. “Go. Rebecca just endured watching another woman open her fiancée’s front door wearing pajamas, and don’t think she didn’t notice that you were only wearing briefs when you came dashing to the front door. If you still want to have a fiancée at the end of this day, get out there.”
This time he nods slowly in agreement and steps backward toward the door, his eyes on me the whole time. He hesitates, and his next words are almost shy. “I never meant to … hurt you.”