She pulls the covers over her head. “Don’t bother. I’d rather rot.”
I chuckle as I move toward the door. I’ve missed her so much. “Goodnight, Spitfire.”
I’m about to shut the door behind me but pause at the last second. Feeling a little adventurous, I stick my head back into the room. “Oh, and Evie?”
The blanket muffles her acknowledging grunt.
“Try not to lose the game while I’m gone.”
Chapter 8
Evie
Thegame.Ithasn’tbeen twenty-four hours since Brandon managed to weasel his way back into my life, and he’s already flirting with me. The game was our little spinoff of The Game. The whole point of the game was tonotthink about the game. If you did, you lost. But mine and Brandon’s version was different. More intimate. If we thought about one another, we lost the game.
It started off innocently enough. I was twenty-two, and it was my wedding day. I was in the powder room of the wedding chapel, putting the final touches on my bridal makeup look when Jamie and Brandon came in to visit for a few minutes. Then Jamie stepped out to take a phone call, leaving me and Brandon alone.
As soon as the door closed behind Jamie, I started pacing. Brandon watched me curiously. “You okay there, Spitfire?”
I nodded frantically. “Yes. I think so.”
“You’re nervous,” he surmised, smirking. I flashed him a disgruntled look. “That’s normal.”
I scoffed.
“I’m serious. I’d be concerned if you weren’t having the pre-wedding jitters, Spitfire. Getting married is a big deal.”
“I think this goes beyond the jitters,” I said, walking to the window overlooking the rolling green cemetery next door. It was a picture-perfect June Saturday—sunny and warm, but not too hot. Fluffy cumulonimbus clouds dottedan otherwise clear blue sky. Butterflies were dancing in the slight breeze. Birds were chirping.
It was a nice day for a white wedding.
But all of a sudden, I felt like an imposter in my own life, like I was playing the starring role but hadn’t practiced any of my lines. I was only twenty-two, and I still had so much I wanted to do before settling down—like backpack across Europe and maybe go back to school to get my nursing degree.
Except Adam wanted something . . . different. He wanted the nuclear-family life. He wanted me barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, cooking breakfast, lunch, and dinner from scratch and baking sourdough bread. He wanted dinner on the table each night when he came home from managing our family’s home care business.
But perhaps most importantly, he wanted me to be a stay-at-home mom. We talked about it. Knew it was what we both wanted for our future children. Except the thing was . . . as much as I wanted that exact lifestyle at some point, I had to admit that I couldn’t imagine myself having children withhim.
Suddenly, it felt like I was peeking over the edge of a steep cliff, and rather than feeling comforted by the fact that I could see what was waiting for me at the bottom, I was terrified out of my mind. I didn’t want to take that leap anymore. It felt all kinds of wrong.
“Goes beyond the jitters?” Brandon repeated, curious.
Wringing my hands, I faced him. “What if . . . what if I don’t want to?”
He hesitated. “Don’t want to . . . what? Get married?”
Hastily, I nodded. “What if I’m having second thoughts?”
His brows rose. “Are you?”
“I don’t know.” That was a lie. I’d been second guessing marrying Adam for weeks. Months. I started pacing again. My breathing became more and more shallow—to the point where I could see stars and it seemed like the walls were closing in on me.
I could hear Brandon calling my name, but I couldn’t snap out of my sudden panic. I was spiraling. Nothing made sense. I felt faint. Brandon grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me to face him. “Breathe, Genevieve. It’s alright.”
“I can’t,” I wheezed, realizing I’d made a dire mistake. “I can’t marry Adam. I don’t want to.”
Brandon rubbed my arms frantically, up and down, up and down. “It’s okay. Breathe.”
“What’s happening?” I gasped, clutching my throat. It felt tight, too tight, and I couldn’t pull in any air. “I can’t breathe!”
