Another verbal slap in the face.
But I didn’t flinch that time. “Thank you anyway.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. He took a step back. “You’ll move your bags into my bedroom. It’s at the other end of the hallway.” He exited the bedroom without a second look.
Did he order me to take my stuff to his bedroom?
We hadn’t discussed where I would be sleeping during these six months. Why I’d thought it would be in some sort of guestroom was beyond reason, apparently.
In six months, I’ll get what I want from this marriage…And then I get to forget all about you.I recalled what he said downstairs in the kitchen.
So was sleeping with me part of his plan to forget me? My breathing began to grow shallow at the thought of Ace forgetting me. His words shouldn’t have affected me as much as they did.
“Should I put my clothes away?”
I came back to the present moment, realizing that Aiden stood before me with his Superman suitcase by his side.
“Yes.” I nodded toward the white wooden dresser that stood against the wall. “Put your clothes away and I’ll get dinner started.”
I headed down to the kitchen, Ace’s words replaying in my mind. Luckily, he wasn’t around. I had no idea where he went but I wouldn’t try looking for him. I needed my head to stop spinning.
What the hell had my life become?
CHAPTER5
Ace
My life no longer felt like my own. In the two weeks since Savannah and Aiden had moved in, I felt like a stranger in my own house. That wasn’t the reason I made her move in with me at all.
I needed to reestablish my equilibrium and get back to working her out of my system.
I would get on that as soon as I woke up. I was dead tired from another training flight and debrief. The hours we spent going over seemingly miniscule details were sometimes as grueling as the flights themselves.
If only I could apply that same damn tenacity to working Savannah out of my system,I thought as I entered through my front door.
I dropped my bag by the front door and pushed it to the side with my foot before heel-toeing my boots off. It was quiet, since it was after midnight. Savannah and Aiden were probably asleep.
I suppressed the urge to go up to my bedroom and stare at her from the doorway. I found myself doing that more times than I cared to admit over the past two weeks and I cursed myself every time I did it.
Instead of going up to the bedroom, I went to the kitchen. It was late but I still needed to eat and hydrate. We had another training flight later on in the week, which meant I needed to be vigilant about keeping a regular schedule as far as eating and drinking water were concerned.
The button on the oven caught my eye and I saw that the oven was set towarm. Against my better judgment I pulled the oven door open to find a plate of food covered in foil.
My stomach roiled both in hunger and in anger. I stuffed my hand in an oven mitt and removed the plate of food, uncovering it. Meatloaf, homemade cheesy mashed potatoes, and broccoli sat on the plate, staring at me.
I wanted to ignore the zing of pleasure that raced up my spine, knowing that Savannah had left this plate of food to keep warm just for me. It was something she’d come to do since she moved in. Every night when I came in from a late training or work, there was a version of whatever dinner she’d prepared for her and Aiden waiting for me.
As much as I wanted to forget the gesture, I’d taken to skipping my usual pickup from whatever local restaurant was still open, to have dinner at home. Prepared by my wife.
I shook my head. Not my fucking wife. Only on paper was she my spouse.
I made myself remember that this wasn’t a real marriage and Savannah wasn’t my wife in any real sense of the word. That, within a few short months’ time, she wouldn’t even be my wife on paper.
And it was all so she could get money that her grandmother left to her.
“Pssh,” I grunted as I took a bite of the last piece of meatloaf on my plate. The reminder of why Savannah had come back into my life after all of these years was all I needed to let go of any softening I felt toward her.
So what if she left me dinner in the oven, and if, on really late nights, my mind whispered to me that she looked right lying in my bed? Or that, since she started sleeping in it, my bed had taken on a lavender scent that I’d spent years trying to forget?
