“I’m getting an overnight bag,” I point out. “It’s hardly worthy of an audience.”
“Let’s go, Niamh, I have work to do.”
My brows shoot up, but he continues, not looking back at me once. It takes me a few seconds to follow after him, finding him talking with a couple of my regulars. He’s laughing and joking with them, his left hand in his pocket, so I do the same, hiding the ring on my own finger.
I give a quick greeting to the staff working today’s shift and then head through to the stairs, taking them two at a time so I can get this bag packed. If he’s only going to stay down there, then what was the point of him coming in at all? How long before we have to start telling people we’re married? People will notice me notbeing here, they’ll see me leave with him, and the moment they do, all the rumors will start.
This is going to be the hardest part. The way people will talk behind my back, what they’ll say. I shouldn’t care what they think, but it’s hard not to when I’ve grown up around these people; theyknowme.
I pull a duffel from my closet and throw it onto my bed before I go through the clothes hanging on the rail inside, pulling out a couple pairs of jeans and tees as well as a few sweaters, my second set of cowboy boots and sneakers before I move to the drawers for my underwear and pajamas.
My head snaps around when the door to my studio opens and Roman steps inside, his left hand still in his pocket.
“Are you ready?” He asks.
“Does it look like it?” I snap, every single nerve on overdrive.
“An attitude already?” He smirks, “We haven’t even been married a couple of hours.”
My shoulders sag. “Sorry, this is just a lot.” I tell him, remembering how it felt to be kissed by him. I’m not sure anyone has ever kissed me the way he did, how he poured his entire being into it. But I have to remember it’s nothing special, that he’s probably kissed hundreds of women the very same way and he’s justgoodat it. We’ve all heard the rumors, every woman in Sunstone Ridge has heard them and wanted a piece of it. I get it, who wouldn’t want to be the center of Roman Knight’s attention?
Well, now I am, and I have yet to decide if I like it.
Packing everything into the bag, I head through to the bathroom and pack up my toiletries and shovethem inside, zip it up and pull the strap onto my shoulder. It’s barely settled before it’s tugged right back off.
Roman heads out without a word, my bright pink duffel hanging off his shoulder and hislefthand holding the strap.
For a moment I stare after him, my mouth agape, but then I hear the door open and close downstairs, and I know I need to follow. I grab my keys and lock up before I rush down to the bar.
There’s a quiet in here now that wasn’t there before, and once the staff door swings shut, every pair of eyes turns to me. I see Roman waiting at the door with my bag, that ring on his finger catching the light streaming through the large windows.
No words need to be spoken; it’s as if everyone justknows.
It feels like a walk of shame as I cross the space, my shoes tapping on the wood floor as I go. Eyes follow me, and as I reach Roman, the whispers begin. His free hand goes to the small of my back to guide me outside, his face purposely blank where mine is crumbling. Walls are closing in on me, forcing me to my knees…
“You’re okay,” He whispers.
I flick my eyes to him.
“You’re okay.” He repeats, guiding me into his truck.
I take a deep breath and allow his words to settle in me, willing them to be true. I am okay. Everything is fine.
Ihadto do this.
Twelve months will fly by.
I’ll be working a lot anyway, and the time I’m not, I can just hold up in the room he gives me or spend it down at the falls.
That ranch house is huge, I doubt I’ll even see him that much. He’s got to be busy, right? Ranches don’t run themselves, and with one that size, I’m sure it’ll keep him even busier than me.
Beside me, Roman slides behind the wheel and switches on the engine. Glancing at him, I see him flexing the fingers on his left hand and fiddling with the gold band, twisting it round and around.
I’m just going to treat this as I treat all business. With a straight head and an end goal. I did this for the bar after all, like everything I do, and this doesn’t have to be any different from when I sign contracts with suppliers.
A business arrangement that benefits us both.
I can survive Roman Knight; it’s not like I’ll fall in love with him.
