Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
"You don’t have much stuff," Violet observes, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. Her eyes flicker over the boxes, a trace of curiosity in her expression. "I thought you'd have more."
I shrug, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead. "Well, I only brought the essentials for now. Didn’t see the point in dragging everything over when…" I trail off, suddenly hyper-aware of how temporary this whole arrangement really is.
"What will you do with your house? Sell it?" she asks, tilting her head slightly, her voice casual, though I can sense the undercurrent of genuine interest.
I shake my head, my hand running through my hair. "No, I’ll probably see if one of my brothers wants to rent it out. It’s a good house, and I’ve put a lot of work into it. After we, uh… you know, get divorced, I’ll just move back in." The word divorce feels awkward on my tongue, like it doesn't belong in this conversation, even though it's been part of the plan from the start.
Violet nods slowly, her gaze drifting away from mine, settling on the boxes piled against the wall. "That makes sense," she murmurs, her voice thoughtful, almost distant.
I watch her for a moment, feeling a strange tightness in my chest. There’s something surreal about this whole situation. Moving in with her like this, discussing a divorce that hasn’t even happened yet—it feels so backwards. We’re playing house in the weirdest way possible.
"Yeah," I say, more to fill the silence than anything else. "Figured it’s best to keep things simple. No need to make this more complicated than it has to be."
She glances up at me then, offering a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. "Simple is good," she agrees softly, though there’s a flicker of something else in her expression. Something I can’t quite place.
I clear my throat, shifting awkwardly on my feet. "Well, that’s everything for now. I’ll unpack and stay out of your way."
“I’m going to take a shower and get ready for bed.”
I glance at my watch. “It’s still early.”
She smiles and it nearly kicks me on my ass. It makes me want to keep finding ways to make her smile like this. “Early bird gets the worm.” She leaves the doorway and heads off down the hall.
Anyone want to rent out my house? I’ve officially moved in with my wife.
Shepherd: How’s that going?
Easy. Nothing to it.
Brock: Willow and I are looking for a place together while we save for our own place. We’ll take it.
Anya: You’re moved in on the ranch? You’ll be a real cowboy in no time.
Highly doubt that.
Hartford: How sweet. Also, Anya we’re still planning on going camping next weekend, right?
Anya: Yes, Griffin got the time off work.
I don’t think I approved all this time off for everyone.
Shepherd: I’ll still be here. Baby’s been teething and it’s been a nightmare. Only Pax, Hart, Anya, and Griffin are going.
Brock: Willow and I are trying to work things out where we can come too.
Tripp: Yeah, congrats on the move in, Cal. I won’t be able to make it to the camping trip as Millie and I are hitting the road for my book tour.
Anya: Cal, you and Violet should come camping with us.
No can do. Somebody has a restaurant to run. Besides, I’m not sure, but I think Violet can’t just run off into the mountains to camp.
Hartford: We should add her to this chat.
No.
Brock: You’re no fun.
I pocket my phone when I hear the shower turn on from the bathroom down the hall. These old houses don’t have en-suite bathrooms, and I think about Violet for a brief moment. Soapy suds running down her body.
Fuck.
I need to stop thinking about my wife like this. Wife. The word alone sends a ripple through me, a strange mix of pride and possessiveness. Every time I remind myself that Violet is my wife, something primal stirs inside me—a sense of claim that I can’t quite shake. She’s mine.
I’ve never been the possessive type in my past relationships. I’ve always prided myself on being laid-back, respectful of space, but with Violet, it’s different. There’s something about being her husband that brings out my inner caveman, a part of me I didn’t even know existed. And it’s unsettling how natural it feels.
I’m still standing in the hallway, caught up in my own thoughts, when the water from the bathroom shuts off. I should move. I know I should, but my feet are glued to the floor as if waiting for something I can’t name. The door opens a moment later, and Violet steps out, wrapped in nothing but a fluffy, light-blue towel that clings to her damp skin, droplets of water still trailing down her bare shoulders.
Her eyes meet mine, wide with surprise. “Oh… right. I’m not used to this at all.” Her voice is soft, almost embarrassed as she instinctively tries to step back into the bathroom, her fingers clutching the towel tighter around her body.