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“With this ring I thee wed.” My chest loosens when she says the words and slides the ring on my finger. It feels right, like the beginning of the puzzle I was missing. She looks at me so meek and reserved when she puts it on, but there is a spark of hope that flashes so quickly if I wasn’t staring at her, I would have missed it.
“Now Fletcher please place the ring on Florence’s finger and repeat after me. With this ring I thee wed.” I know she is only expecting a wedding band, but I had decided that whoever I marry, they would wear my grandmother's ring, the one my grandfather gave her when they wed at eighteen. His family came from old money; the ring has been passed down for generations, and I would be no different.
I place the four-carat blue emerald on her finger and the accompanying platinum diamond band. My eyes close as something settles inside of me. The gasp that leaves her lips compels me to open my eyes and gaze upon her shocked face. Her pink, unhidden lips fall open, and she stares at the bindings on her finger like they are the most precious things she has ever seen. “With this ring I thee wed.” Instantly her body seems to release a tension I can sense she has been carrying for some time.
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.'' I want to kiss her so badly, but instead, I lift my finger to run it down her cheek; when she flinches and jerks back like she is expecting something else, I clench my jaw to retain the anger. Someone has hurt her and not just emotionally.
She lifts her eyes, guilt pouring from them, so I smile and nod my head, letting her know it is okay. “We set up a reception for two but if you would rather not have one we understand.” Alton’s wife, Lavinia, looks at Florence momentarily before conveying to me with her eyes that she also saw it.
“We appreciate that,” I say to all of them. “But I imagine my wife is tired after traveling all day so I think I will show her her new home and let her rest. But soon, we will have you all over to celebrate once she is settled in.” They all nod at me, but I can see the concern written on their faces.
“Would you like to walk or drive?” I ask her, walking out of the church together. All she has with her is a backpack and a small duffel bag. I could carry that for the ten-minute walk to the house.
“Can we drive? I am eager to shower,” she whispers; a glance of insecurity crosses her face like she thinks I will deny her.
“Of course. Right this way.” I walk her to the car and help her inside. The ride home is quiet and filled with many questions from both of us, but they are all left unsaid. “Home sweet home,” I announce when we pull into the driveway,
She leaves the car slowly, taking in the vast estate before her. I look at the house, trying to see it from her perspective. I am unsure if she comes from money or not, not that it matters, but if she doesn’t, this would be overwhelming. It is by no means the biggest estate in this town. That would be Jude and his wife, Hannah. But this has been in my family for generations, and each of the ones before me added their own touch, whether it be new paint, awnings, an addition, a modernized kitchen, or something for their time. Me, I have changed nothing waiting on my wife to do it to her specifications.
“Your home is so beautiful,” she says with awe in her voice. I look at her, smiling.
“It’s our home now. Come on, let me show you the inside.” With my hand at her back, careful not to add too much pressure to the gesture, I lead her through the front door and inside.
“The inside is gorgeous too,” she says, walking further into it.
“Thank you. This is my family home. It means a lot to me that you like it.” She looks at me, biting her lip, searching my eyes for the sincerity of my words. “Are you hungry?” I had something prepared for us to eat, but I don’t think she was up for it.
“No, thank you. If it is alright with you, I want to shower and take a moment.”
“Of course. You can explore later. Follow me.” We walk up the spiral staircase, which is one of the things my parents added, and I lead her past the six bedrooms and right to our master suite.
Immediately, she turns to me with fear in her eyes. “Is this a guest room?”
“No. This is our room.” Her breathing begins to pick up, her eyes clouding with panic. I walk to her, hellbent on calming her down, when she folds into herself and begins apologizing.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I will do whatever you want.” She chants over and over. I stop mid-stride and clench my fists, barely cooling the rage inside of me to hit something at the signs of her obvious abuse.
“Florence, listen to me. Can you look at me?” She raises her eyes so obediently it hits me in the chest that she has had to live in fear of not doing as she is told. “I cannot let you sleep in another room because we are going to have to learn to trust one another, and develop some sort of relationship.” I don’t break eye contact, but I try to ensure my voice is calm and soothing.
“I want you beside me, hopefully eventually you will feel safe enough with me to wrap yourself around me while you sleep so I can comfort you and show you that you are safe. I want us to get to the point where we can have a real marriage and have a family. We will not get there with you in another room. However, I do not expect anything from you until you are ready. Do you understand?” She nods her head, but she looks at me skeptically.
“May I shower now?” Damn it. I want to slay whatever demons she has and help regain her confidence.
“You can do whatever you want. Do you need anything from me?” She shakes her head. “Very well. I will leave you to it. Florence…-” She looks up at me, and I squelch the need in me to wipe her tears from her eyes. She was made to smile, and I will restore it. “I am glad you are here.” I hand her the small bag that I assume is her toiletries. Nodding, she walks into the room and into the bathroom.
I pace for a few minutes, debating about leaving her here alone, but in the end my determination to know everything about her wins out. Lloyd knows something, and he is going to tell me.
Tonight.
ChapterOne
Florence
Shit. Despite my best efforts to not be a victim, the fear I’m feeling right now tells me I am. I’m determined to get over it, though. My new husband seems kind, though I know I won’t know for certain until I get to know him better. He seems intense in a completely different way than Gary was, but I still can’t help feeling like I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. I stare at myself in the mirror. I don’t even recognize who I’ve become. Over the last three years, I’ve gained a bit of weight from the stress eating, but that’s not what I’m seeing staring back at me. The sad little girl with dark circles under her eyes looking back at me has me praying to God that I didn’t go from one royally fucked up situation into another.
My husband doesn’t give me the bad vibes Gary did, so there’s that, at least. I set my bag down on the counter and opened it. I pull everything out of it. I put my shower stuff on the empty shelf of the organizer in the shower. I set everything else neatly on the empty side of the double-sink basin before reaching into the shower, turning it on to the hottest setting, and stripping.
Once under the spray, relieved, silent tears spill down my cheeks. For the first time in forever, I feel safe. Truly safe. I’m free and safe. I straighten my back and begin to wash my hair, vowing not to let him ruin the rest of my life. I'm exhausted when I get out of the shower and lotion my skin. It’s been a long day. Wrapped in a towel, I tentatively open the door and let out a breath when I see that I’m alone. He’s brought the rest of my suitcases into the room. I know I should unpack fully, but I lack energy. Instead, I open the one that has my pajamas in it. I pull out a long T-shirt and a pair of panties. I turn the bed down and climb onto the left side of the bed. He appears to sleep on the right side since the nightstand contains a giant stack of books and a pair of reading glasses.
