Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Time is making me feel worse instead of better.
I get up and get a glass of water. Standing at the sink, I drink, hoping it keeps the headache I’m getting at bay. When I lower the glass, my gaze goes to the coffee table and that large envelope he left behind, which has the answers he said I’m looking for.
I take another sip, debating if I even want to open that can of worms. What if it just upsets me more? Setting the glass down, I take a chance, praying I won’t be more disappointed.
Grabbing the envelope, I switch on the small lamp next to the TV, then slide down the wall between the door and the TV stand. With my butt planted firmly on the floor, I bend the brads and lift the flap. I dig my hand inside and pull out one of the papers. A photo.
A sob escapes the moment I turn it over and see us from our wedding day. The image blurs through the watery tears as they collect on my eyelashes. I blink to clear them, but they decide to fall down my cheeks instead. Staring at the photo, I’m left without words, and any lingering anger dissipates.
This is the moment I felt closest to him. Not during the vows, though those will always hold a special place in my heart. Not when we kissed. Not even the world of possibilities I felt when we were running down the courthouse steps.
It was at this moment that I knew he was my soulmate.
The good.
The bad.
The ugly.
The beautiful.
All of it tied in a neat package of heart and flowers, love and commitment. I knew standing next to him that no matter what life threw at us, he’d love me through it. And I’d love him no matter what.
I’m not asking for more than he can give, but I won’t accept less.
I set the photo on top of the envelope beside my legs and reach up. Turning the knob, I send him falling flat on his back next to me when the door releases. “Ow!”
Rain sprays from his soaked body. Rushing to my knees, I bend over him, a breath away, inspecting for any damage. “Are you okay?”
He rubs the back of his head. “Not sure. Am I still in hell?”
I smile before remembering I’m supposed to be mad at him. “Not sure but you’re out of the doghouse. For now. Why are you still out there when it’s pouring rain? Trying to get sick and leave me widowed?”
He grins, resting his head on the floor and staring at me. “Truth?”
Sitting back on my knees, I warn him with a raised eyebrow. “It better be.”
Smart enough to take me seriously, he replies, “I fell asleep leaning against the door. The rain woke me up about forty-five minutes ago.”
“But you stayed instead of getting in your car or driving to the ranch?” I start to stand, picking up the papers and photo so they don’t get ruined, and set them back on the coffee table. Turning back to him, I offer him a hand up.
“I told you I’d wait.” He takes hold of my hand, and for a split second, I think he’s going to pull me to him. He doesn’t, and though I’m relieved since I don’t want to be soaked by the water puddling around him or his wet hair and clothes, a bit of disappointment also shoots through my veins. “I wasn’t going to break that promise after everything else.”
When he stands, my heartbeat quickens just like it always does for him. He asks, “How did you know I was outside the door?”
“I didn’t. But I felt like you might be, so I took a chance.” Distracted by the way his wet shirt clings to the muscles in his chest and wraps around his biceps, I say, “I’ll get you a towel.”
I get two and take two seconds to catch my breath. Am I ready to forgive him? Or am I only open to hearing him out? I feel caught between the two, so I head back out instead of standing in the bathroom, overanalyzing the situation. “Here you go,” I say, handing him one while I bend to dry the floor.
“Thanks.”
I leave the towel down to absorb any rain I missed, then return to the kitchen for another sip of water as cover to shamelessly ogle him from the darker recesses of the apartment like a total creeper. But shame doesn’t infiltrate my body. I have a right to appreciate my husband all I want.
It’s not giving in if I want this to work. And as much as I am madly attracted to this man, his actions will win my heart back. “I saw the photo.”
“It’s great, right?” His smile is heartfelt, giving me the comfort I felt standing next to him when the picture was taken.