Page 3 of The Mrs. Clause
"Sex between… you and me?" I clarified.
"Yes."
Oh. My. God. Is he serious?
Chapter Two
Collins
I returned to my hotel room in a daze. Nick had offered to escort me or have a car brought round but I'd waved him off. I needed the cold evening to shake me out of this shock. It hadn't worked.
You, me and a bed.
Nick's provocative words ran through my mind on an endless loop.
You, me and a bed. You, me and a bed.
I hadn't expected this of him. I'd assumed Nick would grant my wish for IVF or for a divorce. After a five-year absence with only the occasional interaction via email or phone, I'd assumed Nick would be happy to scrape me off. Our marriage was nothing but paper at this point.
But it hadn't always been that way.
I stripped, trying to shake the bittersweet memories of another lifetime. The shower knobs turned easily, and I stepped into the hot spray, focusing on the pinpricks of heat that branded my body.
It worked for a few moments until my skin warmed and the water flowed in rivets down my skin, leaving no area untouched.
I'd been engaged in principle since my fourteenth birthday. An arranged marriage to unify Knight Industries and the Del Laurentis Company. I'm not sure if it were mine or Nick's family that suggested it, but either way the result had been the same – Nick and I had married. Sure, they'd waited an appropriate length of time but at twenty I'd ended up believing I'd found my happily ever after.
I'd been sixteen when we'd officially met. He'd been eighteen, cocky, charming, full of the confident charisma that would make him a threat in the board room. I'd fallen under his spell, allowing him to sweep me off my feet and romance me over the years. He'd surprised me with gifts and thoughtful letters. He'd listened to my dreams and encouraged me to pursue them.
Our wedding had been both a nightmare and a dream. It had been my fairy tale come true but with a guest list in the thousands, our parents had used it as an excuse to network. After the wedding we were to move to London in order for Nick to start working at the new headquarters of Knight and Del Laurentis Industries. A new husband, a new country, my life changing in ways I had no capacity to control.
On the eve of our wedding I'd text him, a nervous wreck of nerves and fears. Nick hadn't criticized or ignored me, instead he'd taken the time to help me settle. He'd snuck into my room, holding me all night, whispering that all would be fine once we were married. I'd gone to our marriage bed a virgin, and I assumed, he had as well. He'd been gentle, treating me with reverent respect and what I'd assumed was love.
That's because you were too innocent to know the difference between lust and love.
It'd taken me a year to discover the truth – Nick didn't love me. He'd spend long hours in the office, skip weekends to remain at work, met with clients and colleagues after hours.
Distance had crept into our marriage. We'd found before finally letting that passion give way to indifference. No, I shouldn't say indifference, nothing about Nick left me feeling indifferent. Instead, it was hurt. I hurt that every overture was turned down. Every dinner he missed, every conversation he cut short, every moment that I felt like a second-class citizen in our marriage left me hurt and angry. The fact this was an arrangement made by our parents only added to the guilt and hurt. I constantly questioned if he loved me, would love me, could love me, when realistically he'd been forced into our marriage.
It had taken me a further three years to get up the courage to leave. Unlike him, I'd been hopelessly in love. I'd naively assumed he would fall for me just as I had done, I just had to give him time and strive to be the perfect wife. I'd tried hard, making myself available to him, putting dinners on the table, anticipating his needs and working to make his life easier. But the words had never come. With each passing day, I felt more like a trophy wife and less like I'd found a man who loved me.
When my sister had announced her engagement, I'd told Nick I was flying over to help. He'd come for the wedding and had to return to London immediately after. Instead of following, I'd stayed. I'd started over, my heart breaking when he'd made only one attempt to bring me back.
"Are you sure this is what you want, Co?" He'd asked, his voice solemn over the phone line. I'd closed my eyes, conjuring up a picture of him at his office. He'd be wearing a suit, every part of him perfectly pressed. I was certain this phone call would be neatly penciled in between meetings. A strict thirty minutes allocated.
"Yes," the word felt like pulling the trigger, an explosion of pain ebbing out from my chest as I pushed it passed my lips.
"Your sister's wedding night," he'd rumbled the words, and I'd tried to suppress the shudder that rolled through my body at the memory. "What was that? A fluke? A good bye?"
I'd gone all out. Beautiful dress, fancy lingerie, putting all my effort into pleasing him.
But it hadn't been enough. I’d reached my limit. He'd left the next morning without even a kiss goodbye.
"I can't pretend any more, Nicholas. I just don't have it in me."
"You've been pretending?"
"Let's not lie any more. We've both been pretending. Aren't you tired of it?"
