She’s not making it easy.
17
Silvie
“I can take the couch,”I say, heat flooding my cheeks. I feel like a jerk stealing his bed from him. “It’s fine, Cal.”
He grunts and shakes his head. “No. Get your rest. I’ll be fine.”
Everything about him is attractive—his smile, his body, his smell—but it’s his heart that’s the most handsome part about him. I feel cherished and taken care of in his presence. Before I can stop myself, I stand on my toes and kiss him. Again.
This time, it’s more familiar. I drag my nails through the hair at his nape, loving how he shivers at my touch. Our kiss goes from sweet to not-so-sweet in three seconds’ flat. But, before he can scoop me up and take me to bed, he pulls away, slightly shaking his head.
“Sleep,” he murmurs, leaning his forehead against mine. “If you don’t, I’m going to do something we’ll both regret.”
I highly doubt that.
His rejection stings, but I respect his boundaries.
“Goodnight, hot fiancé.”
“Night, future wifey.”
I wake up before my alarm, the memories of last night clinging to me like a second skin. I ached to have him join me in the bed, but this morning, I’m sort of glad he didn’t. This whole fake wedding thing is confusing. It’s easy to get swept up in the lie of it. If I’m not careful, I’ll fall for the man which will hurt way worse than the betrayal of what Tyler did to me.
Losing Cal feels catastrophic.
And I don’t like feeling so vulnerable.
The waves crashing out the window and the early morning ocean breeze brush across my skin. For a moment, I just lie here, staring at the ceiling fan as it turns slowly and lazily above me. The air is cool, drifting in through the window, the beachy scent making me feel at home. And it dawns on me, aside from the oddness of the situation I’m in with Cal, I feel at peace.
He’s safe.
Steady.
And I’m grateful that it’s him on this marriage journey with me because I can actually trust him.
Today’s my wedding day. My second wedding day. A shiver of anticipation ripples through me, but there’s no panic and nausea. No urge to run off to a desert or swamp to hide. Just a quiet peace.
Huh. Strange. I thought maybe all wedding days felt like the previous one. Today feels pretty great.
It’s a fake wedding, and that could be why. But I don’t think that’s it. I feel like anything with Cal feels peaceful. I’ve never felt chaos with him. He isn’t Tyler, and he never will be.
I sit up and swing my feet to the floor. The wood is cool under my feet. Somewhere down the hall, I feel his presence. Cal. He took the couch and refused to let me take it, even though it made sense that I sleep there. I’m smaller.
I open the door and see Cal moving around shirtless, in shorts, and his feet bare. He has a mug and presses it to his lips as he leans against the counter. His large frame is comical in such a small space. His tattoos span over his chest and arms, something I’ve traced in my head several times. My fingers twitch at the thought of actually touching them.
“Good morning,” I murmur, feeling slightly shy in his half-naked presence.
He watches me walk toward him, a smile on his handsome face, as if he’s been waiting for me. “You sleep okay?”
“Yeah,” I say. “You?”
He shrugs. “Enough. I’ve been up since four.”
“I feel bad taking your bed,” I admit. “I’m taking the couch tonight. I insist.”
He slides a mug across the counter toward me. Coffee and cream. Exactly how I like it. I reach for it and wrap my hands around it, letting the warmth sink in. I inhale its aroma and sigh. “Thank you.”
