AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Will ask her tonight,” I said, wincing.
“Better late than never,” he said with disapproval, his claws clicking against the floor. “Don’t leave her alone for another day, though. A wife expects her husband by her side, especially so early in the marriage. Don’t let her forget who she’s married to.”
I turned away to hide the grimace on my face. How could Scarlett forget? I wasn’t a displaced flowerpot, for Ole Frost’s sake. I was her… her man. If she didn’t like my absence, she would storm my workshop, her hands on her hips, and order me to be with her. And I would. It wasn’t like she was going to find herself another man if I left her alone long enough.
Which was what my father implied, and I hated it.
Though… she hadn’t come here to tell me off. Maybe there was something to what he said. After all, he was usually right. Even my mother called him affectionately the best husband in the world.
He was the shining example to us all, and I just didn’t feel like I was good enough to ever be like him.
“And remember, son, it’s your job to make decisions. You ask for her opinion, and in matters that don’t count, like the furniture, let her decide. But sometimes, you will know better,” my father continued the spiel I had heard so many times, it was drilled into my head. “And in those instances, make sure to convince your wife with gentle arguments and coaxing. Give her time. And she’ll come to love you even more for valuing her opinion enough to convince her.”
I gave a non-committal grunt, busy putting away my tools. My back was still to him, so I allowed myself a grim smile, wondering what Scarlett would do if I tried some gentle convincing. She’d probably bite my head off. And not in a sexy way.
Truth was, I didn’t care about much apart from my job, and I didn’t imagine Scarlett would have a reason to interfere with that. I would be fine with her deciding in all other matters. But that wouldn’t make me a good husband.
I sighed, turning to my worktop to take one of the drawer fronts with me when I went home. I still wasn’t hungry. It felt like a lead ball sat in my gut, unpleasant and cold.
“Well, good night, Father,” I said, opening the door.
“Good night yourself,” my father said with a wink. “Ah, to be young and newly married. Cherish this time, son.”
I grunted and walked back to the house, only stopping to clean my feet. Everything was quiet downstairs, so I trudged to my bedroom, feeling defeated and inadequate.
From my youngest years, I had this clear image of the perfect husband in my head. He was strong and capable, dominant but kind, and he ruled his household with a gentle but stern hand. He made all the important decisions, worked to earn money, and spoiled his wife with small presents and flowers. He complimented her meals, appreciated her work in the house, and respected her in everything.
Some parts of that I tentatively felt like I could do. For example, respect. I could do that and so much more. Icy gales, I would worship Scarlett if she let me. I would be a willing slave at her feet. Except, I was also supposed to somehow rule her, and that felt impossible if I was on my knees, begging her to let me touch her. Those two things were mutually exclusive.
I opened the bedroom door with a sigh. Fire burned in the fireplace, and Scarlett stirred in the bed when I entered, looking up with sleepy eyes. “Hello,” she said, sounding like she was smiling.
She didn’t seem angry or disappointed, and my heart beat faster at once with relief and worry. Did she not care? Was she happier without me by her side?
“I’ll just wash up,” I said quietly, heading to the bathroom. “Oh, um. Just wanted to ask you. Is this okay? As a pattern for the furniture in our new home?”
She sat up and squinted, and I lit a candle to show her. When she saw the delicate carvings of drooping snowdrop flowers, she smiled in delight and ran her fingers gently over the wood.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. “But you don’t have to ask me. You’re the expert. I’m sure you’ll make beautiful things for us.”
My stomach loosened, a huge wave of anxiety rushing out and before I knew what I was doing, I was up on the bed, hugging her close. “Missed you,” I said through a tight throat while Scarlett patted me awkwardly.
“You… you did?” she asked, confused. “I thought you wanted some time alone. To, you know. Get away after everything that happened yesterday.”
“Maybe I did,” I admitted. “I still missed you. Did you miss me, too?”
She was quiet for a moment, making me draw back uneasily. I wasn’t usually this needy, but after the little talk with my father, I felt low and unsteady. Now, Scarlett’s silence made all the despondent feelings come back with force.
“It’s fine if you didn’t,” I said finally, standing up. I avoided her eyes as I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “We don’t know each other, after all.”
I turned to go to the bathroom, already planning a long bath to make sure Scarlett was asleep when I got out when her quiet but sharp voice made me freeze.
“Stop,” she said. “Turn around. Come back here.”
I obeyed without a thought, looking at her face, golden and soft in the firelight. When I sat on the bed, she took my hand and looked at me with a frown.
“I don’t know if I missed you,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice that made me pay attention despite the sharp pang of hurt at her words. “Because every time I wondered where you were and when I would see you again, I instantly felt angry. I was certain you were avoiding me. Which is your right. As you said, we don’t know each other.”
Except, I was wrong. We knew each other in the deepest sense after last night. I had bared myself to her, and she did, too.
