Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
“I know he’s a decent man, Caelan. I wouldn’t have married him if I thought differently.” Curious as to why he’d feel the need to make such a point, I asked, “Are you worried I’ll bolt or something?”
“Maybe not bolt, but … too many women from his past gave up on him.”
Dax and I weren’t really “in” an actual relationship, though. At least not in the truest sense. That made it different. I tilted my head a little. “Why did they give up?”
“Different reasons. In some cases, they tried to change him. ‘Fix’ him. Thought if they loved him hard enough, he’d become someone different.”
I frowned. “If you’re not happy with a person as they are, if you feel the need to shape them into somebody else, you don’t love them.” I might want to change that Dax kept me at arm’s length, but I didn’t want to change him.
“Exactly. But they didn’t see it that way. It happened time and time again. And when loving him hard didn’t ‘melt’ him or some shit, they’d decide he couldn’t love; that he lacks what makes a person a person.”
Pausing, he dabbed at my partially done tattoo with a sterile cloth to soak up the blood there. “Don’t get me wrong, there were a few who didn’t want to change him. They truly cared for him. He just didn’t feel the same way, so they walked. I don’t blame them. But I do think they gave up on him too quickly. Only Gracie was different.”
“Unlike them, I’m not trying to win his love. I know I won’t get it, so you don’t have to worry that I’ll walk because of that. I can’t promise you the marriage will last—life surprises us in lots of ways. But I have no plans to give up on it or him.”
Staring me right in the eyes, Caelan tipped his chin. “I believe you. And it’s good to hear, because he wouldn’t let you go easily. He might not be head over heels for you, but he considers you his. You’d have a major fight on your hands if you tried to leave him, and I’d be surprised if you won that fight.”
I snorted. “If I wanted to leave, I’d leave—there’d be nothing he could do to stop me.”
Caelan’s lips curved. “It’s cute that you believe that.”
I felt my brows lift. “Cute?”
“Seriously cute.”
“I’m not scared of your brother.”
“You don’t need to be. He’d never harm you. Dax is no angel, but he’s no monster either. Still, he has a way of getting whatever he wants. He convinced you to marry him, didn’t he? That’s evidence of it right there.”
Point well made.
∞∞∞
Entering the villa later on, I stopped in the doorway of the living area as I clocked Dax sitting on the sofa, a hardcover in hand, with Gypsy curled up against his thigh. Both man and animal looked up at me. Gypsy did no more than blink at me before again closing her eyes. Dax, however, focused on me in his usual intent way.
“Hey,” I said, flicking his book a brief glance. I’d learned he was well-read. He largely stuck to works of non-fiction, though he did enjoy horror novels. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be home.” Mostly because he’d left before I woke, and I hadn’t heard from him throughout the day.
“I’ve only been back an hour. I …” He trailed off as his gaze fell to my bandaged wrist, and his face darkened. “The fuck?”
“I didn’t hurt myself,” I quickly assured him when he shot to his feet. “It’s just a tattoo.”
His brow denting, he placed his hardcover on the coffee table. “A tattoo?”
“Yeah. Caelan did it for me.” I crossed to Gypsy and scratched her head. “He wouldn’t accept payment,” I complained, “so I’m going to have to sneak money into his wallet the next time he’s here. He says hi, by the way.”
“You went to his shop hoping he could squeeze you in?”
“No. I had an appointment. I made it last week.”
There was a beat of silence. “You never said anything about it.” There was an accusatory note in that otherwise flat statement.
I double-blinked. “You’re never interested in what I’m doing.”
“What gave you that impression?”
Was he serious? Because he looked it. Which was weird, considering … “You communicate it well.”
He arched a questioning brow. “How, exactly?”
“Whenever I told you in the past that I was going here or there, your only response was a hum. Half the time, you didn’t even look at me. I got the hint that you didn’t care to hear where I’d be going or what I’d be doing.” I gave him an easy smile. “It’s fine. I’m not upset about it.” Disappointed, maybe. Even a fake friend might ask if you had plans.
“What you do is of interest to me,” he stated firmly.