Two weeks of married life had passed, but I’d been gone for the last few days. Before I had left, Van and I had settled into a routine of pretending we slept alone on either side of the pillow wall, working at our respective workstations all day, and repeating it in the evening. We’d been roommates, nothing more, and it had been pleasant.
So why had I slept like crap in the hotel room? Was it the stress? The training? It couldn’t have been the separation. Yet, why did making a pillow wall help me drift off as if I could pretend Van was on the other side and relax?
I never had an issue sleeping when my ex was gone.
I was back in Coal Haven now and shamelessly looking forward to a better night of sleep. I turned into the driveway. The garage doors were open. Van was outside of it, behind his pickup, putting together some sort of machinery. He had a baseball hat on that shaded his face when he looked up. His gaze softened when he saw me, and my belly came alive, and not in a morning sickness way.
I gave him the most awkward wave as I pulled in to park. My boobs had been tender all week, and now it was like they had their own heartbeat when his dark gaze met mine as I drove past.
When I got out, he was waiting at the back of my car. He pulled my suitcase out of the back seat. The denim at his ass clung tight, and wow, I’d never guess he sat at a desk all day.
Only he didn’t. The days we’d worked sort of side by side, he was in and out of his office. He’d pace the hallway or go outside for a short run. Any excuse to move, he seemed to use it. Meanwhile, I had to set an alarm to get my butt out of the chair for a break time.
“How was your stay?” he asked.
“Oh, you know. I’ll miss the Belgian waffles with the continental breakfast.”
“Do I have to add those to my rotation?”
“I won’t grumble if you do.”
Likewise, before we’d left, he’d also be in the kitchen, taking turns cooking like we had agreed. The way we’d settled into the arrangement should be a red flag, a warning that this guy was different in a way that could make a girl fantasize if that girl had not been dumped in an embarrassing way in front of that guy.
I collected my water bottle and empty bag of chips from the front seat and followed him inside. The ache in my boobs continued to make me hyperaware of them around him. This was something I hadn’t dealt with before, but that was how every day was now. He took my suitcase all the way to the bedroom. I could stand at the end of the hallway and admire his long-legged swagger, but that would be too much.
He was my husband, and I… Gosh, had I missed him.
The days before I left had been nice. Calm. He hadn’t nitpicked everything I did or questioned my choices. Why hadn’t I realized that Elijah was a narcissist? Anything related to me had been critiqued by him, and I hadn’t noticed. My clothing and my cooking. My job, my big family, and what I drove. Nothing was off-limits, but he had done it in a charming way that flew under the radar but chipped away at me.
Two weeks with Van, not all of the days under the same roof, and my eyes were opened.
In the kitchen, I dumped my water bottle out.
“How was your training?” he asked from behind me.
There. It was that. A simple question, and he sounded sincere, dammit. I set my water bottle down too hard. I was a smart woman, and I had let some guy demean me.
He came closer. “That bad?”
Frustrated, I pushed my hair back. I’d had it down for my training. Straightened and professional. I faced him and leaned against the island. “No. It was great. My position works on the geologic storage of carbon dioxide. We inject it into underground rock formations for permanent storage. It’s fascinating, and my background in remediation is actually appreciated because the company is looking at saline aquifer storage. I get to learn new stuff and use my experience.”
A divot formed between his brows as my volume increased. “That’s good, right?”
“It’s amazing—and I get paid twenty thousand more a year.” I flung my hands out. “And the whole time I was gone, learning my new duties and new programs, I’d think about how relaxed I was. Because I’m not going to go home to Elijah and field little comments like, ‘Wow, must be nice to play with rocks’ or ‘I managed more money than that entire company is worth before noon.’”
His expression turned aghast. “He would say that?”
“Every. Time.” I dropped my arms, and my hands slapped my thighs. “How did I not see it? And here!” He jumped when my volume pitched up. “You don’t make tiny complaints about my dry muffins or how wet I make the floor in the bathroom when I shower, or how dowdy my clothes are.” I couldn’t believe I said that. I was standing in my black slacks, pink top, and ballet flats. Something that had been deemed suitable by my ex—except for the lack of heels. “Everyone was there in jeans, and I went to work in this. It’s all I packed. Because my time with Elijah made me paranoid about how I looked.”
I hugged myself. My pulse had notched up while I was ranting.
Van studied me. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Are you sure I won’t just blurt out all my personal information?”
The corner of his mouth kicked up. “It’s okay if you do. I won’t even flinch if you talk about your period.”
I barked out a laugh. “Don’t worry about that for eight more months.”
