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“I can’t. Not yet. I have to… figure all this out. My brain is on a carousel,” I reply, gesturing to the stacks of post it notes decorating his coffee table.
“All the more reason to rest and reassess tomorrow,” he states, matter of fact, as he walks around the sofa to stand in front of me with his hand out, wearing only his soft pyjama bottoms. “Come with me.”
Can someone please tell me how I’m meant to deny this man when his perfect, strong chest is on display? He looks so fucking good all the time, even when he’s sleepy. In fact, especially when he’s sleepy.
My hand twitches. I want to take his, but I know that I won’t be able to settle until I’ve got some sense of control over this. “I have to sort this. I can’t make these numbers match and it’s driving me insane.”
A frown passes his lips before he sits next to me and eclipses my kneecap with his hand, squeezing. “Walk me through it. We’ll get a solution, and then I’m taking you to bed.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I do.” He turns to face me, determination blazing in his tired eyes. “I want to. You’re my wife, and I’m not letting you face this alone.”
My pulse thunders, my fingers tingle and all of a sudden, I really feel the weight of my wedding ring on my finger. I do have him, and even if I’m being selfish, I want him to help me. I want him to want to help me. Even if I can’t accept his money, this I can do. “Okay,” I say, nodding my head and placing my hand on top of his.
He scans over my notes with his other hand while not letting me go, looking at the costs I found on Google. “What funds do you have available?”
I chew my bottom lip, my cheeks heating at the fact that I have to admit it’s not much. “Around eight grand, total. But that would clear me out. I could sell my car too, I thought about doing that anyway. That could give me an extra few grand.”
He nods slowly, then continues staring at the post-it notes, flicking through each one before he pauses. “Let me help you, Zoey.”
My skin bubbles with a coolness that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. “No,” I say resolutely and when he turns to face me, I stumble at the hurt on his face. “I’m sorry. I mean, no, thank you. I can’t accept anything.”
His head shakes slightly. “I don’t understand why not. We agreed this is a partnership, no?”
“A business agreement,” I correct him a little too harshly than I mean to and my stomach plummets at my words.
He goes rigid for a second and his eyes flash with more hurt.Great. Good one, Zoey.“Right, fine. So. if it’s a business agreement, I want to amend the terms. Let me give you the money for this, and when you get your trust fund, you can give it back to me.”
I consider what he’s saying, and it does make sense to a degree, except… “And what if my father never gives me the money? I can’t drag you into this without being able to pay you back. It’s bad enough that you married me, and we aren’t any closer to me getting my trust fund.”
“Zoey, you’re not dragging me into anything—”
“But I am. I’m fucking all this up and I don’t know what to do.” I exhale roughly, looking down at all the useless numbers I’ve written down. “I’m just frustrated because not everything will be covered by the insurance, and at the moment, nothing is lining up. If I use my savings, I don’t have enough, and what do I do with all the animals long term if I can’t get it fixed soon?” My brain sabotages me, and my pride can’t take a hit again. I’m constantly battling with the soul crushing feeling that I’ve been ignoring for the last year. That whispers in the back of my mind, telling me I’ll never be good enough, not just for me, but for anyone. My shelter is the place that makes me feel at home. It’s the one place where I feel enough because all those animals look at me like I saved them. I did that. I made them feel safe, and I can’t give that up.
“Sweetheart.” His voice brings me out of my spiral. “You need to let me help,” he says gently.
Shaking my head, my eyes burn. “I-I can’t. I want to do this. I have to.” My voice cracks on the last word and I see the moment he gives in.
He nods solemnly. “I understand.” Blowing out a long breath, he briefly looks down but quickly focuses back on me. “But come to bed. Nothing is going to be solved tonight. You need sleep. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder and inhaling his freshly washed skin. He always smells so good, sweet but masculine. I take one more inhale, and the wave of exhaustion from earlier hits me full force again, along with a realisation. “I need to see my dad again.”
He strokes my hair and everything whirling around in my head immediately settles with his touch. “I think that’s a good idea. I can come with you.”
“I think I need to do this myself.”
“Okay, whatever you need. But I’m here. I’ll support you and help you in any way I can, Zoey. But I need you to rest. Will you come to bed with me?”
A sigh escapes my lips and my eyes close as I softly nod my head. We both stand, he wraps himself to my side, splaying his hand across my waist, tattooing his warmth onto my skin.
We climb into bed, him in his pyjama trousers, me in his t-shirt, and as soon as I pull the covers up, he stares at me with a frown. “What?” I ask.
“Why are you all the way over there?”
I try to think of an answer but come up blank. Then he grabs me by the waist and hauls me backwards into his front, nuzzling his nose into the crook of my neck. The goosebumps that cover my body are laced with lust and comfort. He makes me feel safe. Here in his arms, he makes my mind less noisy, and I feel stupid for ever thinking I wasn’t in ‘like’ with my fake husband because the truth is, I am.
“Mmm, that’s better,” he hums into my skin, moving his hands over my stomach, igniting that spark deep in my core. I lace my fingers with his and feel something long and thick resting against my arse. I wiggle slightly, and he groans, gripping my hand tighter. “Careful, sweetheart, I’m trying to be a gentleman here and make sure you sleep.”
