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I can’t stop thinking about it, but by Archer’s sudden cold demeanor, maybe he’s already pretended like it never happened. Even as the photographer took wedding photos of us, he didn’t act this way. He played the part of a loving husband—and he played it well.
“Where are we going?” I finally ask, hating to break the silence. Normally, I don’t mind the quiet. It leaves me alone with my thoughts, but right now, the last place I want to be is lost in my own head.
“Home,” he answers immediately, his gaze still focused out the window.
Why won’t he look over at me? We just got married. I swear I saw a different side of him in that church—a softer side—but apparently, that’s all it was…a glimpse. Because now, he’s back to the Archer Moore that the world knows.
Quiet. Cold. Uninterested.
Those are all words I’ve heard people use to describe him. If you had asked me after speaking with him before the ceremony, I would’ve told anyone that he was different.
But is he different?
I feel naive all over again. All it took was for him to do one nice gesture and buy me one very expensive ring to question if I really knew him at all. If Blake taught me anything, it’s that I trust too easily. I’ve already told Archer I won’t let that happen again and I need to remember that.
He must not like my silence because he speaks up again. “Any arguments about that?”
I frown. Arguing is now exactly what I want to do. “I don’t have anything to stay the night at your house.”
“It’s now your house, too.” His words should sound sweet, but the delivery of them isn’t. He spits them out as if he hates the fact that I’ll be living with him.
“It doesn’t have to be,” I mutter under my breath, turning my body toward the window and away from him. I’m not typically an argumentative person, but he’s being rude. I don’t like the hot and cold. All I want is to establish a baseline with him and stick to it.
He lets out a long, exaggerated sigh. “It was part of the deal,” he tells me through gritted teeth. “You signed it. You’re living with me, no arguments.”
“Then you can’t just tell me without giving me the chance to get my things.” I try to fully turn away from him, but my head gets yanked back. I yelp, wanting the veil out of my hairimmediately.
Unfortunately, my dress is tight, and it’s hard to lift my arms enough to reach the pins securing it in my hair. I let out a frustrated sigh, regretting being talked into the veil last minute.
Archer gives me a sigh of his own before he unbuckles his seat belt and slides across the leather seat.
“Let me help you,” he insists, his tone harsh.
“I don’t need your help,” I snap, attempting to reach up and remove the veil myself but failing.
I’m pretty sure he rolls his eyes at me. “Clearly,” he says sarcastically, not listening to me at all as he gently places his hand against my hair. His other hand works at softly pulling the pins from my hair. He’s gentle, trying not to tug on the strands as he takes out each one until I finally feel the weight lifted as he removes the veil.
“Better?”
I nod. It feelssomuch better. I hadn’t realized how heavy the fabric was and how much it was pulling on my scalp until it was gone. We stare at one another for a few moments with matching frowns.
I’m the one to break first. “I understand your reasons for demanding I live with you. But you can’t expect me to go there without packing anything first. I don’t have anything.”
He presses his lips into a thin line. “Wrong.”
“What?”
The sound of his palm running over his stubble fills the quiet of the back seat. “You’re wrong. You have an entire room full of things waiting for you at my house.”
“How?” I don’t bother to hide the shock from my voice.
“It’s called a store,” he responds sarcastically.
I close my eyes for a moment to muster up the energy to deal with him. “So what? You bought me things and expected me not to needanythingfrom my own apartment?”
The corners of his lips turn down slightly. Apparently, that’s exactly what he thought by the look on his face.
I rub at my forehead, the dull throb of a headache popping up due to how insufferable he is. “Are you used to always getting what you want?”
