Emma appears in the doorway before Liam can answer me. She stands there, holding a pair of game dice, offering Liam a look of impatient disdain. Her jaw is tight, her lips are pressed together, but still she’s smiling. It’s a territorial kind of smile and it is wildly attractive.
“Game is ready,” she says, slowly plucking her eyes away from where Liam stands and looking to me. “Ready?” Her smile shifts to something more real,familiar.A smile I know I’ve experienced a thousand times, a smile I’ve probably done absurd things for, a smile I’ve committed my life to.
“See you in the morning.” Liam rolls his eyes, scoops up his things, and heads to his car. Benny was kind enough to tell him about a late-night waffle diner in town and about the bald owner who will trauma-dump to just about anyone.
I don’t watch him leave, instead following Emma inside. The kitchen island is covered in a variety of snacks ranging from candy to veggie sticks and hummus. She beams down at the assortment, proud of her efforts. She doesn’t say anything as she grabs two plates, filling both. The sun is almost set, with a small beam of orange light peeking through the window above the sink. As she moves around the space, it shines around her, casting her in a beautiful glow. The kind of glow you read about in books, a glow made just for her, illuminating her soft skin and brown hair. Her hips shift, fluid and intentional, bumping cabinets closed and scootingplates farther onto the counter. A sliver of skin peeks out from under her shirt as she lifts her arms overhead, a full plate in each hand.
My tongue is suddenly dry, and I realize my mouth was hanging open, drinking her in. I swallow hard and fix my eyes on the plates as she scoots past me, her body brushing against mine, accidentally I’m sure, but enough to send my pulse skyrocketing into my throat.
She glances over her shoulder when she realizes I’m not following her into the dining room. “You coming?”
“Y–yeah,” I stammer, caught off guard by the sudden rush, nearly tripping over my own feet as I follow her. She giggles, and the sweet sound zaps straight through me, followed by a new, overwhelming sensation.
I know it’s only been a few days, and apparently it didn’t take nearly as long last time. But whatever this is, this buoyant, fluttery feeling now brimming behind my ribs, can only mean one thing.
There’s no denying it.
I have a crush on my wife.
Chapter twenty-two
Emma
When It Started To Hurt
“Howcouldhedothis to me?” Ellie cries out, snatching the decorative towel elephant and hurling it at the wall.
After Liam announced in front of everyone—on their wedding day—that he couldn’t marry my sister, I got her out of there as fast as I could. Unfortunately, the only place to hide was their suite.
Now we’re trapped in a room staged for a honeymoon that will never happen. Red rose petals, a chilled bottle of champagne, matchingHisandHersrobes, and a “night together” basket sit around the room. Taunting us. I kick the basket into the bathroom, not wanting her to see it.
Ellie rips the pillows from the bed and launches them at the balcony doors, the hem of her wedding gown tangling under her feet.
“El,” I whisper as she throws thehisrobe on the ground and stomps on it. “Eleanor.”
“What?” she chokes out. Her eyes brim with tears as another groan breaks loose, but she keeps stomping. I open my mouth to say something,anything,but nothing forms. Nothing I could say right now will change what happened. Maybe letting her get it out of her system is best.
A knock at the door saves me from the flying box of tissue.
Steven stands in the hallway, holding Eleanor’s bouquet and two plates of food.
“You’re amazing,” I breathe, guilt and gratitude tangling in my chest at my husband standing in front me. He would never do something like this to me.
“How’s she doing?” he asks right as a crash echoes from inside the room. We both wince.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, looking every bit of the word.
I set the flowers on the small table sitting next to the door and take the plates. Steven steps in beside me but stays out of Ellie’s line of sight. Anything connected to Liam, including Liam’s best friend, is gasoline on the fire right now. So seeing her brother-in-law is the last thing she needs.
“Should we give her our room?” he asks, glancing at the mess she’s created. The bathroom door slams, followed by running water and the sound of fabric tearing.
“And sleep inthis?” I grimace, following his gaze as it skitters over the destruction. Rose petals clump with melted ice cubes. Throw pillows are mangled beyond saving. The duvet is a heap on the floor.
“We’re going to have to clean this up.”
“I know,” I mutter, remembering we booked this suite on our credit card as a gift. I mentally slap myself. I’m an idiot.
“Em!” Ellie calls to me from the bathroom. “RentThe Mummyand order me a tub of ice cream!”
