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five
Only One Bed
fiona
It wasthe best night I’d had in a while.
In weeks, in fact.
And it was the first meal I’d shared with Kip at my dining room table. We hadn’t eaten a meal together since the celebratory dinner at Nora and Rowan’s place. I’d get home before him, make something easy and within my skills, and then grab wine or beer and either retire to my room or sit outside and speak as few words to him as possible.
Though I didn’t have a moment to dwell on that because his mother spoke a mile a minute.
I didn’t even find myself being caught up in or infuriated by the act of being Kip’s wife. Even when he brushed hair from my ear or slung his arm around the back of my chair when we’d finished eating.
He’d even insisted on doing the dishes while his mother and I finished the bottle of wine and gossiped over chocolate cake I happened to bring home from the bakery.
One of the major perks of working at the best bakery in town—or the state, for that matter—was all the take-home goods.
Kip was almost… charming.
He obviously loved his mother, but he found her over the top. Which she was. And I fucking loved it.
It wasn’t until after I’d shown Deidre to her room—which Kip had surprisingly made up to standard—and said our goodnights that I actually realized what was going to be happening.
I’d be sleeping.
In my room.
With Kip.
I’d done pretty well at ignoring him since we got married, but this would be a little harder.
There was nothing for it. I just had to ovary up.
I’d gotten up at an ungodly hour this morning, it was later than I usually stayed up, and I was exhausted.
Kip was lingering by my bedroom door, looking almost… awkward.
“I can go to the sofa,” he offered, speaking quietly. “I’ll get up before she does. Though she’s an early riser.”
“Don’t be insane,” I hissed. “I’ve slept with plenty of men I didn’t like in my past. You’re not special.” I winked at him as I walked through the door of my bedroom more confidently than I felt.
“You’re pissed,” he said the second the door closed behind him.
I screwed my nose up, confused. Deidre and I had polished off a bottle and a half of wine, which was counteracted by the feast she’d cooked up. So I wasn’t drunk. I just felt… soft. Content. Though the door closing and Kip being in my bedroom made me a little panicky.
Plus, all the casual affection we were forced to share throughout dinner. Yeah, that bothered me, now that I thought about it. It wasn’t nice or natural or underwear melting.
None of those things.
“Yeah, I guess I’m not thrilled I have to share my bed with you,” I said, frowning from him to my perfectly made bed with throw pillows, expensive sheets, and throws that Kip seemed like he’d ruin with his pure masculinity.
My room was girly. I wasn’t what someone would call a girly girl, nor was the room itself floral and full of pinks. But the duvet cover was a warm beige gingham print. The throw was a chunky knitted wool blanket in the same shade. All of my pillows were arranged artfully. My bed frame was wooden and ornate. The chest at the end of my bed had more pillows. There was a cozy armchair in the corner covered with clothes, though I’d never actually sat in it. It served as storage for clothes I was too lazy to put away and weren’t quite dirty enough for the laundry.
The walls were painted an off-white and covered with art depicting women in gowns throughout the centuries.
Kip—tall, muscled, and masculine—looked out of place here in my sanctuary.
