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She’d loved him once. She would love him again.
His love for her had never dimmed. Why would hers?
He was the reason she was mad at him, after all. He’d made his bed, and now he had to sleep in it.
Alone.
And that was the hardest part of their living arrangements.
As difficult as the days were with her continued absence, the nights were worse. Sleeping in an empty bed without her while she lounged in a chair in another room was akin to torture.
He started to resent that armchair.
Perhaps not resented exactly. He had complicated feelings toward the chair. He loved that it now smelled like her. It was filled with her things, like a shawl she wrapped herself in while she read by the fire, a comb wedged into the corner and remaining there the entire day, until she needed to use it, her handkerchief draped over its arm unless she was clutching it in her fist. Even her slippers were constantly by its side as she picked up her legs to curl into the armchair.
On the other hand, he was jealous… Yes, of a chair.
He wanted to be that chair. He wanted her to curl up on his lap, to sit by his side, sleep on top of him.
He was going insane.
He supposed the only sane thing he could do was leave the house. It was a good thing he had some business to attend to, a promise he needed to uphold.
William got dressed rather quickly and breezed out of his room. He paused in the kitchen as Victoria wrestled with the sheets, trying to make herself a comfortable bed in the armchair. William slowly approached her and watched her struggle. She huffed and puffed, her face red, the sheet slipping from one side of the chair and then to the other before she had a chance to pull it over.
“Do you need help?” he asked slowly, and she turned to him with narrowed eyes before swiping a lock of hair away from her face.
“What gave it away?”
William chuckled and stripped the chair of the sheet in one swift motion. He collected her shawl from the corner of the chair and draped it over a kitchen chair before grabbing two ends of the sheet. “Grab the other end and lay it flat on the chair.”
She did just that, and they gently lowered the sheet. Then William started tucking it into the corners and the edges, spreading the sheet smooth. “You know you can use the bed, right?”
Victoria scoffed. “I am not sharing a bed with you.”
“That is not what I am proposing, although that would be preferable. I just mean that you can take the bed on your own, and I shall test this magical chair for myself.”
She shrugged. “I quite like this chair. Besides, its size is just enough for one small person, while the bed is so wide. I don’t want to be thinking of you joining me in the middle of the night.”
William recoiled in disgust. “Is that how lowly you think of me? That I would force myself into your bed? What am I? A ruffian?”
She bristled. “I did not mean to offend. However, it would not be the first time you tricked me.”
“I would never hurt you. And I would never force myself on you. If that was my goal, this chair would not stand in my way.”
She licked her lips. “I still don’t want to use the bed. Besides, I don’t think you’ll fit in this chair.”
William snorted. “Trust me, I’ve had worse.”
She looked up at him, startled. Her gaze was penetrating, as if she was trying to read his mind and find out whether he was joking. He wished that he was. She shook her head, trying to dispel some unwanted thought, and said, “Either way, I don’t want to get comfortable here. It’s a temporary arrangement, and I’d rather not use your bed.”
William let his eyes fall closed against the hurt. He had to be patient. One week was not enough for her to forgive him. Although he wished it was. It had taken her two weeks to tell him she loved him. How long was it supposed to take her to love him once more? He stepped away. “The bed—the chair—is ready. Good night.”
“William.” Her voice stopped him in his tracks. “Are you going somewhere?”
He turned back to her slowly. “Yes. I have, um… business to attend to.”
She chewed on her lower lip. “In the middle of the night?”
