Chapter Twenty-Three
Bram
Q uinn and I fall into a steady routine. She is an early riser, and every morning, I wake up to fresh coffee and breakfast waiting for me. Jett said he reinforced King Arthur’s home, and Quinn has finally braved going for another run.
I sip my coffee in silence, trying to focus on the words of the Bible sitting in front of me. We’ve been married for almost three weeks, and each day I find myself looking forward to seeing her smile and making her laugh. Almost every evening after supper we either play a board game or watch a movie together. It’s becoming the highlight of my days.
We’ve been over to Ada’s house a few times. Quinn sometimes makes dinner here and then packs it up to take so her mom doesn’t have to worry about cooking before one of her late shifts. Or she’ll go straight to her mom’s after work and I join her when I get off.
Lois is still acting weird about us marrying. I’m glad she and Chad have been out most of the nights we’ve gone over. Neither Quinn nor I want to deal with the weird tension and awkwardness from her, and truthfully, I’m pretty annoyed that Quinn is doing so much to help her family while Lois and Chad are off filming content for her social media accounts. Yes, it’s their job, but it also feels extremely selfish of them to not take into consideration how much Quinn is still doing even though she’s not living there anymore.
A protectiveness for Quinn fills my lungs. She’s selfless in her actions with her family. I’m fascinated watching her care for her mom, brothers, and foster sisters. The way she talks to Ella and brings the young girl out of her shell amazes me. And little Jovie is pretty much like a baby koala bear whenever we’re there, clinging to Quinn as if she’ll never let her go.
It almost makes me feel guilty for taking Quinn away from them. I never realized how much she does for others. There’s a deep strength in Quinn that I’m getting to glimpse each day, and I’m beginning to appreciate her more and more.
Thoughts of Lois sometimes drift into my mind, but they’re quickly followed by frustration with her actions since she found out about Quinn and me.
Lois texted me earlier wanting to know what I was doing for Quinn’s birthday—which is tomorrow. She said she wanted to do a girls’ night. It took me a while to respond to her.
I’m angry with myself. Angry for the feelings I used to feel for Lois, and even though they’re fading, I’m angry that I still don’t feel that for Quinn. Our friendship has deepened, and there’s a new sense of pride and protectiveness in my heart for her. Things are shifting. I’m more intrigued by my wife with each passing day and my desire to truly date her has only increased.
I need to try harder, which is why when I finally text Lois back, I tell her I have something romantic planned for Quinn. I don’t. I spend the rest of the day trying to think of something to do because Quinn is my wife and deserves something special to celebrate how amazing she is.
If only I can figure out what.
I hope I didn’t make a mistake in keeping her from the girls’ night Lois wanted to have. Maybe Quinn would rather go to that instead of spending time with me. The thought brings a strange ache to my chest. These past weeks have been the fullest I’ve had since living on my own.
And it isn’t the fact that Quinn has fully embraced her role as a housewife. Okay, that may play a small part in it. I mean, what man doesn’t love coming home to a home-cooked meal and fresh brownies? She’s even taken over doing laundry and cleaning around the house. I told her she didn’t have to. Of course, I do help her, but it’s only the two of us, so it’s not like there are huge messes to clean up.
Except for the days Jovie comes over. I smile to myself remembering how I came home yesterday to find the entire house smelling of brownies. In the kitchen, Jovie was sitting on a barstool while Quinn instructed her on the next steps in their baking process.
Leaning against the doorway, my chest filled until I thought it would burst as I watched them together. I took a deep breath. “What are my two favorite girls doing?”
Quinn glanced up at me with a small smile, while Jovie squealed and threw herself into my arms—her very floured self. The girl was completely covered in flour, and when I pulled back, she’d shared a good portion of it with me.
“We’re making cookies,” Jovie said as I placed her back on the stool.
I sniffed the air. “Cookies? Man, I thought I smelled brownies.”
Jovie grinned. “We made those, too. Now, we’re making cookies. Did you know Quinn had to poke herself with a big needle before eating? It’s so the cookie doesn’t hurt her sugar.” She paused and looked between Quinn and me, her little brow scrunched up. “Aren’t you going to smoochy kiss?”
I choked on air or flour. It was hard to tell. Quinn’s eyes widened and pink tinted her cheeks. “Umm . . . smoochy kiss?” I turned my gaze on Jovie.
Jovie’s eyes brightened as she nodded, her pink beaded hair flapping with the motion. “Yeah. Smoochy kiss. It’s what you do when you’re in love.” She turned to the bowl and gave a tiny shrug. “Lois and Chad do it all the time.”
Quinn snorted but covered it up with a slight cough before turning to face Jovie. “Well, Jovie. Not everyone is comfortable smoochy kissing in front of an audience.”
“Why? It’s just a kiss,” she replied with a frown.
“What’s a smoochy kiss?”
Jovie rolled her eyes. “I told you!”
“It’s from Bluey,” Quinn offered, but when I only blinked in response, she continued. “You know? The little Aussie dog cartoon?”
“Oh.” It rang a bell, though I still couldn’t place it.
“Yeah,” Jovie said, bouncing on the stool. “And the mommy and daddy smoochy kiss. Because they loooovvve each other!”
I scratched my jawline, trying to figure out if I wanted to laugh at the situation or run for the hills. Since the hills weren’t anywhere near Peach Beach, I chuckled.
Quinn’s eyes shot up to me and narrowed. Drawing closer, she leaned in and hissed, “What are you doing?”
Jovie turned around to watch us, rolling her eyes. “He’s going to give you a smoochy kiss. Right, Bram?”
I glanced down at Quinn, bringing my thumb up to wipe a streak of flour off her cheek. Her skin was smooth and soft. The contact made her blush deepen, and that’s when I knew I was going to give Jovie what she wanted. Hadn’t we agreed to light displays of affection when we had an audience? And Jovie was our audience at the moment.
Tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear, I leaned in to whisper, “Should we give her what she wants?” Quinn’s unique coconut scent filled my senses, and I swear she shivered when my breath fanned across her neck.
“Bram,” she whispered so quietly I almost couldn’t hear her. “We don’t have to do this.”
“Ahh . . . come on, Q. Better give the little lady a good show, eh?”
I cupped her face between my hands, enjoying the smoothness of her skin. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jovie watching us. I gazed into Quinn’s eyes, all joking fading away as her turquoise irises drew me deeper into their depths. All I could think about was the way she smelled, the warmth of her skin under my fingertips, the spark in her eyes, and how kissable her lips were.
What was I thinking, playing along with Jovie’s little game? What started out as something to make Jovie laugh now seemed to be charged with so much more.
“Is this okay?” My voice was a rough whisper.
Quinn bit her lip and nodded. Smiling, I lowered my head until my mouth connected with hers. She tasted of cocoa as her warm lips moved in tune with mine. My hand found its way to the back of her neck, and I almost groaned realizing her hair was in a ponytail. Why did I suddenly want to let my fingers trail through her dark locks?
Wrapping her arms around my neck, she gently tugged me closer. Was she feeling this, too? I wanted nothing more than to get completely lost in the warmth of my wife, but just as I began to deepen the kiss, I remembered our little audience.
Moving my hand back to Quinn’s face, I reluctantly broke the kiss, caressing her cheeks with my thumbs as I did. Her eyelids fluttered for a moment before she opened them, our gazes locking. Something shifted between us, the room buzzing with a new energy.
Maybe I was wrong about there being no romance between us. Was this the first step toward a real marriage? Quinn’s flushed cheeks and my increased heart rate proved that the lines had become blurrier.
“It’s about time,” Jovie declared and turned back to her baking as if the world hadn’t just shifted on its axis.
The French door opens, bringing me back to the present. Quinn strides in, tapping on her smartwatch. She doesn’t notice me sitting in the living room. I’m glad because it gives me the chance to study her.
Sweat beads on her forehead as her dark ponytail sways slightly with her movements. The bright green yoga pants hug all of her curves and—
I have to stop the thoughts from continuing. Yes, she’s my wife. But we have not reached the level of our complicated marriage where I can sit here and ogle her. Can I? The kiss from yesterday has me all out of sorts.
Quinn turns around and jumps a little, placing her hand over her heart. “Oh, Bram. You startled me.”
I lay my Bible on the table and pick up my coffee cup as I stand. “Sorry.”
She shuffles her feet, wrapping her arms around herself as the weird tension crackles between us. It’s been there since the smoochy kiss in the kitchen. Part of me wonders what would happen if we did a repeat. Just for experiments’ sake, obviously.
“Do you need a ride to work today?” I try to act casual but find myself hoping she’ll say yes. Please say yes.
“Oh, no. I’m going to meet Julie for lunch today. So I should probably drive. But thanks anyway.” She flashes me a quick smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. I need to fix this. Will it make it worse if I bring it up? Or maybe I should just kiss her again.
No, idiot. That will make it worse.
What would happen in one of the movies we’ve watched over the past couple of weeks, or even in one of the novels I read? Of course, in the novels, we wouldn’t be standing here casually talking. We’d be running for our lives, jumping out of planes, probably swimming across the ocean or some other ridiculousness like that. Which is why I read the genre. For the action. Not the romance. Just to be clear.
Is she upset about yesterday? Is that why everything has felt so awkward between us?
Taking a deep breath, I draw closer to her and put a hand on her arm, just under her CGM. “Quinn. Umm . . . I’m sorry. About yesterday. I didn’t mean to make you feel pressured.”
“Oh,” she replies, her eyes dimming slightly. She offers a forced smile. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
I don’t believe her in the least. “Are you sure?”
Shrugging, she takes a small step back. “Yeah. It’s fine. Really. No big deal. I’m going to go shower and get ready for work.”
I watch her retreating form, my shoulders sagging. Why am I so disappointed that she thought yesterday was no big deal? Scrubbing my hand down my face, I head to my bedroom to get ready for another long day on the site.
The sounds of the shower running drift through the hallway. Sending my mind places it can’t go. Is her shampoo coconut-scented? Or is that a body lotion or perfume she uses? How long is her hair when it’s wet? Shaking my head, I storm into my bedroom and close the door with a little too much umph .
I need to get my head on straight and stop thinking about what it would be like to take her into my arms again. To kiss her away from prying eyes. Should I even kiss her again until our feelings for one another change? Or would kissing her help move us along to a real marriage? What if nothing helps? What if we never fall in love?
I’m going crazy. One minute I want to kiss my wife, the next, I’m worried that I’m never going to love her as a husband should.
Dad’s words come back to mind. “Love isn’t always a feeling. It’s a choice. You have to get up each day and choose to love your wife.”
My stomach knots with guilt. Everything I’ve been doing up until this point hasn’t been with the intention of showing love to Quinn. I’ve been kind. Friendly. All the things I’d been doing before we were married. Yes, we’ve gotten to know one another more, but I haven’t been putting an effort into falling in love with her. If I’m truly going to honor God—and Quinn—with our marriage, then I need to start choosing to love her. Even if I don’t necessarily feel that type of love for her yet, I can’t deny that there is a curiosity between us. An underlying attraction that is getting deeper each day.
The thought makes me even more determined to make sure I do something extra special for her birthday tomorrow.
Now, to figure out what.