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“I’m your only daughter.” I laugh, happy to hear him join in at the other end. “I’m excited too. See you tonight, Papa. I’ve got to go.” Before he can protest, I hang up.
I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to say to them. How do you tell your parents you got married behind their backs and didn’t invite them to the wedding?
Might as well add this to the long list of problems I’m creating for myself. They seem never-ending these days, though some things have improved in the past week. Rush has been around a lot more, and I don’t mind as much as I initially thought I would, back when Marnix told me I’d have a security detail. Rush is a good person to have in your corner, not only when times are tough, but when you just need someone to talk to.
I’ve even seen Cohutta more this week. The awkwardness seems to have faded, and we’re on better ground lately. He was in the living room the other night while Marnix was out at some business meeting, so we were able to talk and move past a few things. I still feel bad that those two still don’t seem to be on speaking terms, but it feels good to actually talk to Cohutta again.
I’m not entirely sure where we stand at the moment, whether we’re friends or something more. The room crackles with energy and tension when we’re around each other. For now, I’m just going to let things play out however they’re supposed to, and hope for the best.
I lie on my bed for a moment longer, before realizing I need to tell Marnix that we’re having dinner with my parents. What better time than now to rip off the bandaid and tell them I’m married?
I can only hope that with Marnix there, they won’t completely lose their shit. He could be a nice buffer for their disappointment, especially considering he’s a handsome, successful lawyer—surely that’ll count for something in their eyes. It probably won’t though. More likely that they’ll blame him too, taking out their anger on him alongside me, but I’m crossing my fingers it won’t be that bad.
He’s not going to be pleased about my parents ripping us both to shreds, considering he’s already got authority problems. Marnix Taylor is used to being the alpha in the room.
I keep my baggy t-shirt on with only my underwear underneath, and stomp downstairs to find him. At this ungodly hour of seven in the morning on a weekend, he’s either in his office or downstairs working out. I decide to try his office first. Tiptoeing down the hall, I try to walk as fast as I can on the cold marble floor.
Instead of knocking, I throw the door wide open. “Oh, Your Highness,” I sing-song, walking right in like I own the place. My heart drops a little when I realize he’s not here.
Things have been a little awkward between us since I ran after he tried to kiss me, but in typical Marnix fashion, he’s pretending like it didn’t bother him in the slightest. I can see it in his eyes when we’re around each other though; it’s like he wants to say something, but keeps it to himself.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about my decision to pull away from that almost kiss. I’ve been replaying the scene over and over again, imagining each scenario that could’ve happened between us.
What would’ve happened if I’d stayed and let him kiss me? Would he have pushed me away again or would we have gone further than we ever have? It’s too late to know now. Marnix hasn’t tried anything again, and I haven’t either. It’s probably for the best that way.
With a sigh, I head downstairs to the gym, hoping he’ll be in there and I won’t have to hunt all over the place for him. My suspicions are confirmed when I hear music pumping through the speakers. I step over the threshold, into the giant space where Marnix is lifting weights.
He’s shirtless, only wearing black gym shorts, with sweat rolling down his defined body. Even if this marriage is a complete and utter mess, one thing is for certain—my husband isn’t a hardship to look at.
His muscles ripple with each rep, and I’m positive I’m drooling. He notices me standing here like a creep, and smirks, finishing his set. “What’s that line you use? Oh, right. Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
“Ha. Ha. So funny.” I give my best fake laugh, even though I have to admit it was pretty good.
“I’m going to have to mop up the floor with all that drool.”
Note to self: stop being so obvious when eye-fucking my husband. He already knows he’s good to look at.
“Damn, you’ve got the jokes today, don’t you?” I chuckle. It’s nice that he can still crack a joke, even though we’ve been in such a weird place lately.
“I’m actually pretty funny. You’d know that if you didn’t sprint away from me every chance you get.”
Alright, so shots are being fired now—he’s going from zero to one hundred with these jabs.
I huff. “I do not. I just have things to do.”
Like avoiding you because I want you, your best friend, and your bodyguard.
Because I’m afraid to get close to you with the fear my heart will get ripped clean from my body.
Because you’re terrifying, and I’m scared I like it too much.
“If you say so.” He shrugs, continuing to work out while we talk. “So did you need something? I’m guessing you weren’t planning on working out in that.” His eyes roam down my naked legs, slowly and deliberately. I didn’t really think about it when I came down here in my sleep clothes, but I can’t say I mind knowing he’s still attracted to me.
“We’re having dinner at my parent’s house tonight at seven.” I don’t ask him if he’s free or not. He doesn’t get the choice to say no to this. He makes me go to things with him—I’ll do the same.
“What?” He stops lifting the weights, turning his body toward me and away from the mirror.
“Dinner, my parents, caveman eat food.” He scowls at me for dumbing it down for him, but it cracks me up how easy he is to irritate. That doesn’t seem to ever change, no matter what else happens between us.
