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Chapter Thirty-Four
What does a selfish bastard do when his wife announces she loves him and sees him and says he's not alone anymore? I can't speak for all those other blokes, but I run away. Two days after Skye, I'm packing a suitcase while my wife lies sprawled across the foot of the bed watching me. I keep my head down, but still, I can see her peripherally and feel her gaze burning into me.
I've arranged to go on a business trip to Paris, for a conference I hadn't meant to attend—until we came home from Skye. This morning, I had quickly made my plans and announced them to Emery, who had stared blankly at me for a moment, then seemed to resign herself to my need to flee the country.
Anything to escape from my wife. From her questions. From her love.
The final day of our so-called honeymoon had turned into a tense and awkward affair. Even Emery couldn't muster any enthusiasm for sightseeing, despite my attempt to pretend nothing had happened the night before.
My wife supports her head with one hand, and with the other, she wiggles her fingers on her thigh. "We only got home yesterday, and this morning you announce you've got to leave the country on a sudden business trip to France."
"Thank you for the summary," I say without inflection, "but I recall what I said to you twenty minutes ago."
"Do you realize how it sounds?" She sits up and tucks her feet under her. "On Skye, you told me about a painful time in your life. And oh yes, I said I love you. Are you running away to avoid being around me?"
"Of course not." I lift my head to frown at her. "I am not a coward."
Am I? A few weeks ago, I would've denied it. Now, I'm not certain of anything.
"No," my wife says, "but you are freaked out. I can tell. You go all Robot Rory when you start to worry you've let me get too close."
"This is a business trip." I clap the suitcase shut and fasten the latch with a sharp click. "Two days at a conference, followed by two days working with a colleague to learn about the French legal system."
She clambers to her knees and waddles closer. "Take me with you."
"To a conference on international law? You would be bored."
"Have you noticed boredom being a problem for me? I know how to entertain myself." She leans across the closed suitcase to grasp the lapels of my suit jacket. "If you take me along, I can entertain you every night."
I pry her hands away. "Despite what you may think, I can survive four days without you."
Guiding her hands to her sides, I release them.
"Maybe that's true," she says, "but can you go four days without sex?"
"Yes."
"At least let me drive you to the airport, instead of making poor Tavish go all the way to Inverness."
"He'll be visiting his mother, who lives there."
I snatch up my suitcase and stride to the bedroom door. On the threshold, I pause to glance back at my wife. My beautiful, kind, wonderful wife. "I'll see you in four days. Goodbye."
Pivoting on my heels, I march out the door.
Did I honestly think that would stop her?
Though I hear her running after me, I have longer legs and take the stairs two at a time, reaching the Mercedes parked in the drive before my wife makes it through the vestibule door.
Tavish observes us from the driver's seat, seeming confused or perhaps worried.
"Rory!" my wife shouts, sprinting across the lawn to catch up to me.
I hesitate with my hand on the passenger door.
Emery hurtles her body through the air, colliding with me, and latches both arms around my neck. Her feet hang suspended above the ground while she mashes her mouth to mine. I can't respond, not the way she wants, not this time. I exercise every iota of my willpower to make my muscles go rigid and resist the siren call of her body. But my mouth didn't get the memo. My lips yield to hers without my permission, and I open them to her invasion.
My cock jerks.
