Page 22 of This Woman Forever
Shame on me. “Are you ready to love, honor, and obey me?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. I should laugh out loud. Obey? Sure, in the bedroom. Outside of it? That’ll be the day. “Marry me now,” she demands.
I find her eyes and absorb the love drowning them. “Let’s get married, my beautiful girl.” I take her hand and walk us to the registrar, unable to take my eyes off her, in complete awe.
Mine.
5
I never anticipated not enjoying my wedding day. To be honest, I didn’t consider all the things that come with actually getting married, I only thought about the significance of it. Husband. Wife. And all of the natural progressions that come with those titles. Dealing with a wedding planner, in-laws, guests, photographs, and endless other things has made my day painful. I just want Ava—all to myself. I’ve flexed on what I’ve wanted, pacified Elizabeth, had official photographs when I’d rather catch my own—natural, unposed Ava being Ava in real life—chatted to people I don’t even fucking know, and silently observed the tension between Ava’s brother and Kate. It’s been far from my favorite day spent with Ava, because despite being handcuffed to her, I’ve spent absolutely no time with her.
After reluctantly being pulled around and positioned for photographs, I’m forced to free her so she can have some individual shots. I’m not happy, but I use the opportunity to get my own photos, clicking away, catching her between poses, natural. Beautiful. I lower my mobile and then my eyes to her tummy as she turns her body to the left, almost looking over her shoulder at the camera.
Yes? No? I don’t fucking know. And it’s driving me insane. I know she’s not had a period, and I know it’s due any day. When the fuck will we actually talk about this? But talking will inevitably lead to the admission that I’ve taken her pills. Am I ready to confess what we both know? Confirm what she fears? I blow out my cheeks, raking a hand through my hair. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking, and now as I stand here looking at my wife, I feel more ashamed than ever before. I tried to trap her when I absolutely didn’t need to. She loves me.
I see Elizabeth and Tessa moving in on Ava, ready to claim her for the next duty. No. Not again.
I hurry over and muscle past them, handcuffing Ava to me again before Elizabeth can take advantage of the fact that she’s free. Scooping her up, raising my brows at my wife’s amusement, I carry her back into The Manor with Elizabeth chasing my heels demanding compliance.
“You need to learn to share,” I call back, taking the stairs two at a time, Ava bouncing in my arms. I push my way into our suite, shoulder the door shut, get her on the bed, and crowd her. “Quiet time.” Finally. I kiss her gently and burrow into her neck, smelling her sweet perfume.
“You want to snuggle?” she asks, cluing me in on where she thought this was going. Or hoping. Fucking.
“I do,” I breathe across her skin. “I want to snuggle with my wife. Are you going to deny me?”
“No.”
“Good,” I grunt. “Our marriage is getting off to the best start, then.”
She sighs, accepting, and lets me have my moment with her beneath me, every part of us touching. It should be peaceful. It’s not. My mind won’t shut the fuck up.
I feel her chest expand with an inhale, and I hold my breath, waiting for her words. Is this the moment she’ll be brave? “Will you do something for me?” she asks, a definite tinge of anxiety in her voice.
She shouldn’t be anxious. We’ve got this. We’re a team.
“Anything,” I whisper across the skin of her neck. She pulls me from my hiding place, looking directly into my eyes. “What do you want, baby?” I’ll do anything.
“Can you please resist talking to Patrick about Mikael?” she asks quietly. I have to hold back my dismay. That’s what she’s been thinking about? Her boss? Her job? While I’ve been lying here contemplating life-changing stuff, worrying about how Ava will deal with this, how I will ever justify my actions, she’s been considering her career? Well, doesn’t that put things into perspective for me? My patience is wearing thin. I appreciate I’m the cause of this situation—and note how I call it a situation, not a mess—and Ava didn’t ask for this, but... my God, are we going to tiptoe around it forever? Jesus Christ, a baby might be arriving. What will we do, pretend it’s not here?
“I agreed not to visit Patrick if you spoke with him,” I mutter. Fucking work. “And I don’t believe you have.” This is what Ava does. Tells me—and probably herself—that she’s going to deal with things. And doesn’t.
“Give me until Monday,” she says, her voice pleading. “I’ll talk to him on Monday.”
She shouldn’t be going to work on Monday. We should be going on a honeymoon. Finding out if she’s pregnant. “Monday,” I agree as she gazes at me with grateful eyes. Will she have braved opening up to me by Monday too? “I mean it, Ava. You’ve got till Monday. Then I’m stepping in.”
She nods, assertive. “Okay.”
Why the fuck is work the first thing on her fucking mind? “Monday,” I mutter and put my face back in her neck. “And when do I get to take you away?”
“I did warn you if you wanted to marry me so quickly, there would be no honeymoon for a while. You accepted that, remember?”
How could I forget? “So when am I going to get my wife all to myself?” Today has been a chore. I need peace, quiet, space, and Ava. “When am I going to be able to love her?”
“You always love me. When I’m not working, I’m with you. And you text and call me often enough, so I’m technically connected to you all day, anyway.”
I don’t agree. “I want you to give up,” I say, testing those waters again. “Be a lady of leisure.”
She laughs under her breath. “How would I be a lady of leisure if I’m permanently nailed to you?”