He grumbled something in reply and stalked off, leaving me to my work. I could feel myself wanting to fall for him. Wanting to imagine the fairy tale where we fell in love and lived happily-ever-after.
But I’d been through this before. I fell too hard for men who tossed me aside. This time would be different. This was my fresh start, my new home. I wouldn’t wreck it by letting my feelings get in the way, especially when Gideon was just being nice. Hadn’t Wendy said he was the most reliable of the Mars men? This was simply who he was; it didn’t have anything to do with me.
These little thoughtful gestures didn’t mean anything special. He didn’t magically find me more attractive than he had before. Any evidence to the contrary was just my wistful imagination running away with me.
I’d only been in this town a week, and I already felt more inspired and more at ease than I had in years. Pursuing a man who clearly didn’t want me would only ruin my chances at a decent life. As long as I kept my wants small and reminded myself to be grateful for what happiness I could find here,I would be safe.
My attraction to Gideon would fade. And if it didn’t, I would just have to deal with it.
GIDEON
I tried and failed to avoid looking at Sadie. The light from her sewing machine illuminated her face as she frowned, moving a thread up, down, and around the complicated gears inside the machine. She was beautiful when she focused. When she was inspired. When she was happy.
I should’ve left the cottage, because staying here watching her was torture when she would never really be mine.
But I couldn’t make myself leave.
So I busied himself by clearing her plate then making dinner. I set a serving of roast chicken, potato, and vegetables next to her, then grabbed a book and read on the couch while her sewing machine hummed. Occasionally, I glanced up to make sure she was eating.
The cottage had felt empty since my dad had passed away nearly two decades ago. It had been a cemetery of broken dreams, of plans that had never come to fruition. Dad had meant to retire here, when my brothers and I were grown up. My father would come here when he needed peace and quiet. He’d talk about the plans he had for the property—a small orchard, a new workshop, a pier where he could tie a boat. In the summertime, the five of us had set up tents in the backyard and camped on the property. It was a refuge for all of us.
Then my father died, and the cottage had been frozen in time. It had never become what my father had dreamed.
Now it was alive. It was a home. Sadie had given me that.
The ache in my chest was new; it was painful but sweet. I wondered if I could be satisfied with this half-life with her, and decided that it was better than not having her at all.
TEN
SADIE
Two more days passed in the same way, though Gideon began to come home for dinner. Still he kept his distance from me, both physically and emotionally. We hardly spoke, but we moved around the cottage in mostly comfortable silence. It was for the best. Slowly, day by day, we were finding an equilibrium. The burning passion of our wedding night was becoming a distant memory.
Sort of.
Except when he was in the kitchen, cooking with that intense, serious competence that never failed to make me squirm. Or when I caught him watching me sew from his usual spot on the couch. His gaze prickled between my shoulder blades, and I struggled to focus on my projects. His attention was an aphrodisiac, and I found myself thinking of him when I lay in the bed at night all alone. If I listened closely, I could hear the couch springs complain as he moved. The soft grunts he let out as he tried to get comfortable. The creak of the floorboardand the sounds of the pipes when he got up to get himself a glass of water.
He was so close, and I wanted him so badly. But that wasn’t meant to be.
Still, I burned.
My restless legs clenched together, and I finally gave in and touched myself, remembering how it had felt to be in this very bed with his weight atop me. The desperate rasp in his voice when he spoke dirty promises to me. The way my body had bowed toward him, one line of ragged tension from head to toe.
I bit my pillow to muffle my whimpers. When I was done, I lay in the silence of the night, breathing heavily. I felt no better than I had before. If anything, I felt worse. Needy, restless agitation made me toss and turn when I should have been lax and satisfied. Finally, I sat up.
Buried at the bottom of one of my drawers was the dilator kit. I stared at the pale pink silicone devices as my heart thrummed. The smallest was about the size of my ring finger, the biggest a little smaller than most penises I’d seen. They all had a finger loop at the end to grip.
I took the smallest one out of the case and bit my bottom lip. I was supposed to use them regularly to try to stretch things down there, but I’d gotten lazy. Or maybe I’d become resigned to my sexless, painful fate, and I hadn’t believed my body could actually change.
But now, there was no pressure. Gideon didn’t want me, and there was no other man tapping his foot as he waited for me to fix myself so he could get inside me. I’d had a week and a half of solitude, rest, and decent food. No one had asked me for athing, other than Lola wanting me to make her a pretty dress. I was more relaxed than I’d been in years.
And that made me curious. What if my therapist had been right? What if the problem wasn’t reallyme? It wasn’t some innate failure of mine as a person, it was just my brain being a brain, getting its wires crossed. What if Iwasfixable?
In the still darkness, I reached for my lube and winced at the noise of the cap opening. It sounded like a gunshot in the silent house. Then, heart pounding, I squeezed some clear goop onto the smallest dilator and lay back on the mattress. With my knees bent, I forced myself to take deep, calming breaths.
Just beyond the door, Gideon slept. It felt indecent to be doing this in the same house as him, even if he was my husband. Indecent—and exciting.
I pushed the dilator inside.
