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“She’s not.” But before I can launch intowhyshe’s not, Mom waves her hand dismissively.
“And that’s always a good thing to experience. But you’re thirty-one, Timothy. You need to think seriously about your future, and the kind of woman that will feature in it.”
I’ve heard enough. Depositing my teacup, I stand, nodding to Mom, and stalking out of the room. My hands clench and unclench at my sides as I stride through the flagged stone hallways. Snagging my gloves and coat, I head for the stables. A long, hard ride will hopefully clear my head and blow my temper away before I have to face anyone again.
Angela
Tim is late for luncheon, sliding into his chair right as the first course is being served. His cheeks are reddened, and his hair is windblown.
“Did you enjoy your ride, Timothy?” Sharon asks down the table. Tim glances over at her and nods curtly.
“It was exactly what I needed.” He takes a large slug of wine. Beneath the table, his hand slides up my thigh and grasps mine tightly.
“A good ride is always the thing to blow away the cobwebs,” Kelly supplies. Tim nods again, though his jaw is tight.
Bill turns the conversation away from Tim and his horseback riding, though I’m sure I’m not the only one at the table that notices he is frosty toward Tim’s parents. It’s strange. He spent a great deal of time chatting with them last night. I wonder what happened to change his demeanor toward them.
Despite the apparent rift between Arthur and Harold, he and his wife Sharon were at least trying with Tim and David, and Tim’s parents were likewise chatting with the twins. Once the conversation is flowing around us, I tilt my head toward Tim, still keeping our hands clasped on my thigh beneath the table.
“Is everything okay?”
Tim squeezes my hand, nodding almost imperceptibly.
“I’ll tell you about it after lunch, okay?” he mutters back. That’s probably smart. This isn’t really the time or the place. I squeeze his hand back as he withdraws his so he can use both hands to eat.
As promised, after lunch, Tim tangles our hands together and drags me upstairs, locking us away in his room. Crossing to the bed, he drops onto it, hunching over his knees and sliding his hands through his hair.
“I told my parents about us this morning,” he says flatly. My heart clenches, and I stand like a statue across the room from him. I guess Bill doesn’t need to worry about what’s going to happen in nine days. Tim’s clearly going to end things right here and now. Dropping his hands away from his face, Tim looks up at me and blows out a breath.
“They acted pretty much how I figured they would. I didn’t realize how much it would piss me the fuck off.”
I blink at him in surprise as Tim reaches out to me with one hand. Crossing to him, since that’s obviously what he wanted me to do, I take his hand, and he tugs me down until I’m sitting between his thighs, my back pressed against his chest. Tim buries his face in my hair and inhales deeply.
“Fuck them. I told them I didn’t care what they thought, that I was giving them a courtesy heads up, that we’re sharing a bed.”
I bite back a smirk. I bet they took that knowledge well.
“I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”
Tim sighs again and cuts me off. “Everything we do in life is bound to make at least one person uncomfortable. How about we just focus on not making ourselves uncomfortable?”
Okay. I can live with that for the next nine days. After that, I’m going to be super fucking uncomfortable, considering I’m going to be heading back to Chicago nursing a broken heart. But no one needs to know that except for me.
“Okay.”
Tim wraps his arms around me, lying back on the bed, taking me with him. He snuggles his face into my neck, wrapping his arms around me and draping his legs over mine.
“Comfortable?” I ask, smiling up at the ceiling as Tim makes sounds of agreement.
“Intensely. I just need to hold you.”
Unlike last time he made that statement, this time, Tim doesn’t ask if it’s okay. His fingers are tracing small circles on my stomach, and every so often he sighs contentedly. After about twenty minutes, his breathing evens out. He’s fallen asleep.
Taking advantage of the situation, I lift my hand and gently stroke his hair and his face. My eyes run over the contours of his face, memorizing every detail. The pictures I’m going to download off Google images when I’m back home aren’t going to do him justice.
As my fingers smooth over his cheek, Tim makes a soft, sighing sound as he nuzzles into my hand. I am definitely in love with him. I think this is going to be simultaneously both the best and worst vacation of my entire life.
Chapter Nineteen
