Page 15 of Whispers of My Skin

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It’s clear from Joel’s murderous expression that he overheard the conversation I just had with my stepfather and would love nothing better than to kill someone right now—most likely me.

Oscar beats a hasty retreat, fleeing the room like the coward he is, leaving me to deal with Joel.

“Get changed while I put the bags in the car. Don’t take long. We need to get going.” Joel’s abrupt manner signals the end of the romantic mood we shared just a few moments earlier.

“Joel, what you heard...” I start to explain, but he just raises his hand to silence me, scoops up my luggage and leaves the room before I can attempt to put things right. Guess I can forget any foolish notions I might have had about a romantic wedding night, being carried over the threshold in my wedding gown… Well, what did I expect? Time to forget such foolish notions.

I sigh as I carefully pack away my beautiful dress, quickly changing into a more practical simple ivory dress, although I don’t change out of my new wedding lingerie, my excuse being there isn’t enough time.

When Joel returns, he doesn’t say a word, just grabs my hand, and drags me along as he strides through the house while I struggle to keep up.

Outside, Joel’s truck is parked behind the house.

There’s no one else around, no one to bid us farewell, no shower of petals or rice thrown by cheerful guests.

Which only emphasizes that we aren’t a proper newlywed couple.

Before he gets in the truck, Joel impatiently shrugs off his black suit jacket and tosses it in the back, then undoes the top button of his shirt, rips off his tie and throws that in the back too. Finally, he turns up the sleeves of his dress shirt, his metamorphosis from formal attire to casual complete.

I stand and watch, surprised by how graceful his movements are, considering how powerfully built he is. He ignores the way I’m staring at him, as if I’ve suddenly become invisible.

“Get in,” he instructs, holding my door open for me.

I barely have time to settle in my seat before he’s jumped in the driver’s side, started the car and accelerated away from the house with tires spinning.

As we drive away from my old life, I struggle to get my head straight.

I’m Joel’s wife.

He wants a proper marriage, not a sham.

That’s what he’s insisted all along.

Yet now he doesn’t seem interested, and won’t even look at me.

I should be relieved, but I’m not.

I’m disappointed.

Why does his rejection hurt so much?

My head is pounding and I don’t feel well.

Hardly surprising considering the stress of the day, my nerves, the fights.

My condition doesn’t help either.

The motion of the truck speeding along soothes and lulls me, making me drowsy and sleepy.

Suddenly, as I gaze out of the window, I realize we’re not heading downtown.

“Where are we going?” I sit up and ask, shaking off my lethargy.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Joel states brusquely, not even looking at me.

“But this is not the way to the hotel. Do you want me to look it up on the GPS?” I suggest, trying to be helpful.

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