Page 13 of His Naive Wife

“It was the right thing to do. Following you there wasn’t, but?—”

“You were right the first time—it was the right thing to do. I don’t care that you followed me. You were worried about me. You were there for me. I didn’t think people were really like that. I thought stuff like that was just fiction.”

She yawns.

“I should go,” I say. “It’s late, and we both need to sleep.”

“You could sleep here. With me.” She pats her bed. “We are married, you know.”

Did I see something there? Is she talking about sex? I push the thought from my mind and decide I need to get out of her room as quickly as possible.

“Maybe another night,” I say as I stand.

“Why not tonight?” she asks. She gets up and reaches for my tie, then loosens it. “You need to relax more. Not everything needs to be about business. Come on, stay with me tonight. We can make up for lost time and keep talking.”

I can’t be trusted to share a bed with you.

“I had a long flight. I want to shower and get the travel funk off of me. Let’s talk more in the morning. Good night, Emilee.”

“Alright,” she sighs. “Good night, Alex.”

As I walk back to my room, I’m thankful that things are finally getting better between us, but I wonder if it’s a little fast.

Did she replace Dylan with me?

I push the thought from my mind and remind myself of our conversation. She felt the same way I did before the wedding. None of that is based in logic, and it doesn’t have to be. I’m feeling insecure and overthinking as usual. I just need to sleep.

Couldn’t I sleep in her bed? Maybe sleep is all she meant. Now who’s being naïve?

I’m torn and unsure. What did she mean? I’ve been thinking about her sleeping down the hall for weeks now. I’ve imagined what her soft skin would feel like, what she would taste like. I push away the thoughts as I reach my room. The last thing she needs is a dirty old man in her life.

I remind myself that sleeping together doesn’t mean sex, but that’s immediately where my mind goes. She’s so young, and since we haven’t spoken much, I don’t know what she’s thinking, and I shouldn’t guess.

When the time is right, I’ll know. Instead of listening to my primal urge for her, I’ll leave it all up to her to decide.

I shouldn’t be thinking about this now anyway. It’s late, and I’m tired from traveling. She probably didn’t mean sex when she said I should stay. I have to remember that.

I turn on the shower and start getting ready for bed. As I step under the stream of warm water, I force myself to stop thinking about her. If this continues, I’ll need to make the shower a cold one.

Emilee

Ispent the last few weeks torn.

Why didn’t Dylan come to rescue me at the wedding? Why haven’t I heard from him? Why can’t I stop thinking about Alex? Why does my pulse race every time I see him?

I had been calling and texting Dylan regularly since my father arranged this marriage, but Dylan never responded. Even on the day of the wedding, I heard nothing. He never said he’d rescue me. I couldn’t see why he wouldn’t, though.

He said he loved me.

Didn’t he?

Wait.

Did he?

The more I thought about it, the more I realized he hadn’t. I tried to remember him saying anything loving to me, but I couldn’t.

This is my father’s fault. If he hadn’t arranged for me to meet Alex, if I hadn’t felt that rush when our eyes met, I would still be happy with Dylan.

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