Chapter 3 #2
My hands comb through her silk hair until I’m cradling her head. Her fingers dig into my back as our bodies find each other and are flush, hip to hip again.
“Holy shit.” Keith’s voice is the ice water I need to pull away. I almost rip myself off her, but remember this has to appear real, and just take a step back.
My jaw clenches. Fuck, that felt…too nice.
Better than nice.
I drop my hands and barely register signing the marriage certificate, leaving the courthouse, and driving back to the cabin with her quietly in the passenger seat.
What the fuck did I just do?
I order a stranger to be my bride over a fucking agency like choosing a steak for dinner. How is this service legal? Fucking Deke and his brilliant ideas. This is clear insanity. And I just hitched this young woman to me legally for the foreseeable future.
Inside the cabin, the silence is a thick river of molasses we’re wading through.
“Tea?” I grunt from the kitchen, already putting the kettle on.
I’ve been avoiding looking at her as much as possible since the courthouse. I hear her heavily sigh and plop down on one of the bar stools.
“Okay,” she says, exasperated. “ I get it. It’s a lot. But this can’t be how we’re going to start this marriage.”
Marriage. She says that word like it’s nothing. It’s everything.
“I’ve been married before. I’m well aware of what a marriage should look like,” I say with a bit more bite than I meant to.
Unfazed. “Great. Let’s start there. Tell me about your ex-wife?”
I set the tea can down hard. “She was never my ex-anything. She died. We didn’t divorce. I lost her. We lost her.”
I close my eyes and lean forward against the counter, counting my breaths, taking them slower.
“Ellis, forgive me. I misspoke. Your wife. As Olive’s mother, may I know more about her?” Her soft voice somehow soothes the stabbing ache in my chest.
I don’t know what I thought this arrangement would look like. I guess, naively, I pictured we’d make it official, come home, and live separate lives. Her only need and concern needs to be Olive. I figured we’d only speak when necessary.
That was fucking stupid to think.
I exhale, wanting to dislodge the weight pressing down on me and face her. I lean back against the counter. She’s leaning forward on her forearms, which isn’t doing me any favors as the top of her dress gapes, revealing a light pink lace bra.
I focus on her hands that are relaxed and clasped together in front of her.
“Gillian and I got married when I was twenty-six. She was twenty-four. We grew up in the same town. Knew each other in high school but didn’t date until after college.” I clear my throat and twist my body to remove the kettle from the stove.
“Olive is a lot like her. Super smart. Funny. Challenges life when it doesn’t share her desired outcome.
” I scoff a soft laugh, remembering Gill calling me, that she needed a partner in crime to bail her out.
She was stuck in a window, trying to sneak into the old man’s shop, who insisted he didn’t have the set of multi-colored spoons she wanted.
She argued she saw them just two days ago and was determined to prove him wrong.
I shake my head at the memory of finding her ass stuck in that back window and us arguing because I couldn’t stop laughing.
I glance up at soft hazel eyes, patiently waiting for me to continue.
“A year after Olive was born…fuck.”
I pace the kitchen, rubbing my hand down my face, fighting the tears.
“I’m here. You’re not alone if you need to fall apart, Ellis. I’m sure you’ve had to be the strong one for a long time,” she wisely states.
That stops me in my tracks. I stare at the streak patterns on the stainless steel fridge. “We had sundaes over snickerdoodle cookies the night before. We watched Olive finally fall asleep in her crib. I…,” my voice cracks. “I held her as we laughed and fell asleep.”
I rest my hands on the cold steel, leaning my weight on it, almost pushing against the immovable frame.
“And just like that. She didn’t fucking wake up the next morning. She was just…fucking gone.”
An uncontrollable sob breaks free just as the lightest touch meets my back. I lean all my weight against the fridge and let it happen. I have to let it happen. Arms wrap around me from behind. I know this logically, yet I don’t feel them.
Anger. Pain. Guilt. Soul-aching grief at all the life Gill won’t get to see as Olive grows.
A cerebral aneurysm. So damn sudden. No one saw it coming. One second with us. The next, gone. In our bed. Was I holding her when she left us?
Time moves, but I can’t tell the speed. Has it been minutes? Hours?
My forehead is plastered against the steel. My hands, flat on the fridge. Her small yet strong hands lie on my chest. Her cheek rests against my back, and we’re just breathing.
I’ve only known this woman a mere few hours, and already I know I’ve underestimated her.
“Tea?” she softly asks.
And just like that, I regain control, releasing years of pent-up emotions. I take her hands from my chest, lightly squeeze them, then release them before turning around.
Damn. I keep forgetting how captivating this woman is.
Her brows raise, waiting for my answer.
“Yeah,” my voice rasps. “Tea sounds good.”