Chapter 21
“Y ou know, if you’re trying to impress me, you don’t need to. I’d be just as happy going to a pizza chain restaurant.” Sitting across from me in a black dress that accentuates her cleavage in the most delicious way, Abigail is my every dream come to fruition.
It’s not just that she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, or even the fact that she knows her worth and how to demand that be respected.
It’s the way she’s been so steadfast supporting me from the moment we got married.
It’s the way she truly is the lightness to my darkness.
It’s the way she knew exactly what I needed today and offered me her silent support without demanding answers.
The way she comes like a dream and tastes like heaven is just the cherry on top.
“You deserve to be treated like the princess you are. Anything less would be an insult.” Taking a sip of my whiskey, I lean back in my chair and watch as a blush heats her checks, and instantly, I’m reminded I now know how far down that blush goes. Discreetly adjusting myself, I clear my throat before asking her, “Have you given any thought to volunteering at Perfect Paws?”
“Actually, yeah. I’m going to give them a call when we’re back and see what kind of availability they’re looking for. I’ve been thinking if I could do that on a casual basis, I would still have time to plan the odd party here and there. You’d be shocked at the number of wives that have asked me for help with their children’s birthday parties or engagement parties. Plus, we probably should host a few more events and such to help everyone adjust to your leadership.”
“Those fuckers should be grateful you’re here. If it was up to me, I’d force Peter to host and dip out within the first hour.”
“There’s a reason they say every king needs a queen.”
“You might be their queen, but you’ll always be my Princess.”
"Everything good over there?" After dinner and a stroll through the city centre, we returned to the hotel so Abigail could shower, and I could check in with Peter before we called it a night.
"Yeah, it's been pretty uneventful," I lie through my teeth as I lean back against the headboard, crossing one ankle over the other.
"Well, you'll be happy to know the pup is well looked after. The cat, on the other hand, is hiding from me," he jokes, and in the background, I hear Rocky bark in agreement. Those two are a handful for anyone who isn't Abigail; it's as if they've made a pact to be angels for her and little demons for everyone else.
"I swear that cat only likes Abigail." I laugh before asking him, "Question. Do you happen to have access to any family records? Like birth certificates and such?"
Asking outright if he has another sister feels too much like accusing him of lying, but it’s been nagging at me all day. If they had a sister, surely Peter would know about it, and if so, why has he never mentioned it? It just doesn’t make sense, no matter how I try to rationalize it.
"I'm pretty sure everything burned down in the fire that killed my parents, but I can double-check for you. Is there something specific you're looking for?"
"You could say that. I’m trying to see if there’s any truth in a rumour I heard."
"A rumour?"
"Yeah... that Mum might have had a sister?" I bite out and then listen carefully for any trace of deceit as he answers.
"Shit, a sister? That's news to me. I mean, there was seven years between me and Freya, so there’s a chance, I guess, if this sister was older. But where would she be now? And why have we never heard of her before?" he muses.
As much as I want his confusion to reassure me, the mountain of unanswered questions is too large to ignore.
"My thoughts exactly. That's what I'm trying to work out. This might just be the missing link to solving what happened to Mum." Peter is all too aware that I’ve spent every day since I was old enough to understand what happened trying to get answers. As much as I trust him with my life, it’s hard to ignore the oddity of this whole thing.
It feels cruel to suspect him, even if it’s only in my mind, but how can I not?
"Hmm, well, I'll look into it here and let you know what I find." With that, we hang up just in time for Abigail to emerge from the bathroom, freshly showered and looking like a fantasy come to life, dressed in one of my shirts which hangs like a dress on her.
"So, this has been an eventful trip," she teases as she climbs onto the bed. Settling on her side and propping her head up with her hands she gives me her full attention. I roll onto my side to face her, reaching over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"You could say that again. Or you could also say it's been enlightening," I tease back, thinking of how she tasted, which does nothing to calm my arousal.
"Hmm, I suppose you could say that." She laughs before leaning forward to kiss me. With a groan, I deepen the kiss for a second before pulling back and resting my forehead against hers.
"As much as I’d love to do nothing more than kiss you senseless, I think we need to talk about that," I say as I reluctantly pull back to look at her.
"Ugh, I hate to say it but you, my dear Viking, might just be right," she says with a groan as she shifts to sit up, cross-legged. Her eyes focus on me, a vulnerable look on her face that I’d do anything to erase. I sit up so we’re eye to eye before taking her hand and drawing soothing circles on the back of it.
"I don’t want to assume anything, and I don’t want to rush things, but I think there are a few things I should clear up. First, I want you to have no doubts about my wanting you, but I do think we should take things slow. We got married without really knowing each other, and if we stand a chance at making this last, we need to get to know each other better before we jump into bed together."
"That makes sense. I know we got carried away earlier, and while it was fantastic, jumping into bed with a man I only sort of know isn’t my norm. Maybe we should focus on spending time together and getting to know each other, rather than whatever you want to call what we’ve been doing lately. We could try dating each other and see where things go?" she suggests, looking at me with an open expression.
There's something to be said about a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it.
"Deal. But in the meantime, if you want to keep kissing me, you know, in the name of getting to know me, I’d be open to that," I tease.
At my words, she tosses her head back with a laugh before chucking her pillow at me.
It's cute that she thinks I'm joking. But if she thinks going slow means I’m going to stop kissing her every chance I get, she’s got another thing coming.
She’s my drug of choice, and I doubt I could go very long without a fix.
I’m an addict for her, and I have no plans to change that.