There’s vulnerability in his eyes, as though he’s afraid I’ll say no, and that would be devastating to him. I hate to admit it, but seeing him unsure of himself around me, it makes me . . . sad.
“Yeah,” I answer, capturing his hand with mine. “Of course . . . but only if you get me a giant cherry Danish.”
He nods. “I was planning on getting one myself. I’m going to make tea here, but do you want anything to drink?”
“You know, I think I might have tea with my Danish as well.”
“Yeah?” He quirks a brow.
“Yeah, I never got to try the tea you made the other night, so I’m ready to be schooled again.”
“I would never pass up schooling someone on how to make a proper tea.” He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead before standing up and putting on a shirt and socks.
The whole time, I watch him move around the apartment smoothly, completely comfortable in his dwellings, and what’s even more scary is that I’m comfortable with him being comfortable in this apartment.
Once he has his jacket and worn-out, black boots on, he gives me a wave and says, “I’ll text you when to put the kettle on.” He points at me. “No microwaving.”
I hold up my hand. “I learned my lesson the first time.”
And with that, he’s out the door, and that’s when I roll to my back and stare up at the ceiling.
Oh no . . .
I think . . .
I think I’m starting to like my husband.
I bite down on the corner of my mouth as I replay last night and how—oh shit.
With my hands, I take in my body and notice no shirt. Did I show up to bed naked? My hand travels south until I hit the waistband of my shorts.
Okay, phew. Close one.
But would it have been so bad if I went to bed naked?
Yes, yes, it would, because you’re trying to get rid of him, Cora.
But do I want to get rid of him? Yes. I don’t want to be married. Ever again. But Pike? I actually like him as a person. I still don’t know why he wants this marriage so dearly, why he’s insistent that I capitulate to his demands to have sex, too. If we were just dating, we would’ve slept together by now.
Mixed emotions swirl in my head, but instead of driving myself crazy with them, I hop out of bed and go into the bathroom to take a shower, spending extra time soaping down my body. I don’t realize how long I’ve been in the shower until I hear the front door click shut.
“Pike, is that you?” I ask, peeking my head through the cracked door.
“Yeah, babe,” he says. The tone of his voice and the ease of using a pet name . . . it’s like fireworks going off in my stomach. Dangerous, but also thrilling. “I see you didn’t get my text.”
“Sorry, I took longer in the shower than I thought.”
“It’s okay. I’ll put the kettle on right now. You finish up what you’re doing.”
“Okay,” I reply as I dry off, realizing how domestic and normal this feels and how it’s nothing—and I mean nothing—like it was with Keenan.
With Keenan, I constantly felt guilty for doing anything for myself. Keenan would never allow me to just have a moment. He was always telling me that I lay around the house, so why would I need time to myself? He never would’ve gone to the coffee shop to get morning Danish. And he’d have yelled at me for not putting water on the stove, because, as he’d put it, I never listened to him.
Pike is so different, and it’s scary, because I don’t want to be falling for this guy. I don’t want to feel attached to him in any way. I don’t think it would be healthy for me to be in a relationship, let alone a marriage, so shortly after my divorce.
Why am I even considering it? Because he went to get a Danish?
No, because he’s sweet. Caring. Really good in bed—I mean, fucking phenomenal and he has yet to actually kiss me on the lips or show me his cock. It feels like he could be someone’s rock. Strong, unmoving, a solid person in someone’s life.
But do I want that person to be me?
“Hey,” he says, sticking his head in the bathroom. When he sees that he startled me, he smirks and enters fully. A towel is wrapped around me so he can’t see anything, but that doesn’t stop him from closing the space between us and putting his arms around me. “You okay?” he asks while reaching up and pressing his thumb to my brow, which he gives a quick wiggle. “You’re all tense up here.”
“Just, you know, thinking about how you won’t be able to eat my cooking tonight since we have that pool party to go to.”