5. Pen
5
PEN
I stretch against the soft bedding and groan as light trickles through the curtains. It’s impossible to tell what time it is, only that the sun is out.
And I’m not where I fell asleep.
The wood in here is beautiful, the heavy bed frame matching the beams and continuing the authentic log cabin feel. It’s a guest room, the sheets clean and fresh and holding none of the masculine scent that’s all Lake.
I’m both relieved and disappointed.
Mostly because I don’t remember being carried here in Lake’s strong arms. I’d hugged him countless times over the years, but I’d never been able to linger.
To hold him.
I’d gotten a taste last night, but it had been fleeting and mixed with the litany of emotions I hadn’t been able to process.
Would that change? Had I been too reckless last night?
Too many questions before coffee.
Dragging myself out of bed, I pad across the floor to the bathroom and shut the door. The light is soft when I turn it on, revealing a large tub and a stone shower off in the corner. I’d just used the hall bathroom yesterday when I’d changed out of my dress. Moving any farther than that had seemed like an impossible task once the adrenaline started to wear off.
I stare at myself in the mirror, my face devoid of makeup but my hair still pinned and sprayed. It’d held up surprisingly well.
It should have for what it cost.
I let my eyelids flutter shut as I grip the edge of the vanity, the relief of not marrying Carter making my knees nearly buckle. I know I should feel guilty, but the only thing I feel guilty about is how long I let it go on—for him and for me.
After being together for over ten years, marriage should have been the natural progression. But Carter had turned into a different person the moment we left Wintervale. Instead of quiet nights at home, he wanted flashy dinners and late-night drinks schmoozing clients.
He wanted a wife to dote on him, to support his career.
He wanted a woman like his mother.
That probably should have been a red flag.
The thought sends a full body shiver through me because ew.
Especially after he’d minimized my promotion, discounting the work I’d been doing for the sake of bettering his own position.
Lake would have been pissed if I told him everything and maybe that’s why I hadn’t. I didn’t want him to be any more disappointed in me than he already was.
I didn’t want to admit I’d been wrong.
Everyone knows it now.
Groaning, I peel my eyelids open and pull the first bobby pin from my hair.
And another.
Turning my brain off, I revel in the simplicity of the task, my hair a wild mess by the time I’ve pulled the last pin free. Scanning the vanity, I push down the spike of jealousy when I notice a hair tie next to the soap, instead snatching it up and tying back the curls the best I can.
I’m too tired to shower right now so this will have to do.
Turning on the faucet, I lean down to wet my face, my vision right in line with the four carat ring I’d stripped from my left hand in the truck.
Thanks for the reminder, Lake.
And it’s just that—a reminder.
A reminder of the day before, of the years I’d spent with a man who wanted me on his arm instead of by his side.
A reminder of the version of myself I’d lost along the way.