Her words bring me up short. There’s not a married couple I know who would ever sleep separate. I’m damn sure not going to be one of them.
“We’ll share a room. A bed.”
She avoids my gaze as we move on to the main bedroom. It’s the biggest of the three and I’ve gone to great lengths to make it feel warm and welcoming while the rest of the house feels sterile.
“I’d just rather not know when you come homelate.”
She emphasizes the last word like it has a dual meaning. One I’m meant to understand but for the life of me, I don’t.
“I keep regular business hours.”
Rose looks at me with exasperation. Her lips turn down in the most delightful little pout.
“Grady, you know what I mean.”
Her eyebrows rise high on her forehead. I’m just glad she’s no longer shying away from me.
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
She huffs a loud sigh, her hands landing on her hips.
“I’m not a child. I understand that married men visit brothels just as often as the single men do. I’ll not hold it against you. I just don’t want to know about it.”
“I won’t be visiting anyone else’s bed,” I assert. She doesn’t seem convinced, so I switch tactics. “Do you want children?”
She blinks. Then she blinks again.
“Well, yes I suppose.”
“There are no stray children to adopt in Portersville,” I tell my wife slowly. Odd that she would understand brothels and not how children are conceived.
“Orphans,” she mutters. “Don’t talk about them as if they are feral dogs.”
“My apologies.”
“Rose, I want to sleep with you.”
She stares straight ahead. It’s as if I haven’t spoken a word or she’s gone deaf.
“As husband and wife,” I clarify.
“I’ll wear a veil,” Rose says in a quiet voice.
Rose
This is the moment.
The one I’ve been bracing for since the stagecoach, since the church, since the first time his eyes didn’t flinch away from my face.
If I let him see me, truly see me, and he turns away, I don’t know if I’ll survive it twice.
Our marriage doesn’t start with polite conversation over a shared dinner. It starts with a fight.
“You’re not wearing a veil,” Grady snaps. “I’m married to you, and it’s your face I want to see when we have sex.”
“Grady!” I shout. “Don’t be so crass.”
“We’re married Rose. I’m going to call it what it is.”
