Page 163 of The Christmas Wife

"He won't," I promise.

"What if he does?" she insists.

I lower her hand, slide the rolling pin from her fingers, "Then, uh, I promise to defend us from him, with—" I raise the rolling pin, "This?" I frown.

She glances at it, then at my face. "That's ridiculous." She giggles.

"It is, huh?" I quirk my lips, then hold up the blasted thing in a defensive gesture, "Well then, am I Westley enough for you?"

"No." She shakes her head, "I prefer you as Weston."

"And I fucking love you, any which way." I peruse her flushed features. "Even armed with deadly kitchen utensils?—"

"Baking tools," she corrects me.

"What-fucking-ever." I fling the rolling pin aside, hold out my arms.

She jumps up and into my embrace.

"Fucking hell, Buttercup, you fucking bloody scared me," I say as I scoop her up.

She wraps her legs around my waist. "You stupid oaf, you left me, in the bed, on my own." She hiccoughs.

"Yeah, I am that and more," I agree. "You can call me any bloody insult under the sun and I deserve it all."

"He...he..." She buries her face in my chest, "He held a knife to my throat, oh, my God!" Her entire body shakes, her shoulders treble and my heart, my bloody heart stutters.

"Shh." I brush my cheek against her hair, "Shh, babe, I am here."

"You turned your back on...," she mumbles. "You walked out. How could you do that?" She digs her fingers into my shoulders and I wince.

Fuck, that's how much of a weak motherfucker I have become. I can't even hold up to being mauled by my woman. I reach the table, lower her onto it.

She clings to me. "Don't leave me," she mumbles between gusts of sobbing.

"Don't cry, Princess, please." I hold her close, wrap my arms around her. She doesn't let go, just buries her face in my chest and sobs. I try to pull back, and she only sobs louder.

"Babe," I mutter, "I just want to make sure that you're not hurt."

"You hurt me." She hiccups, "You ass, you broke my heart."

"I am so sorry, Cookie, I truly am."

"Huh?" She leans back in the circle of my arms. "Say that again."

"I am sorry?"

"No after that."

"I truly am?" I frown.

"No, you stupid goof, in between those two phrases."

"What did I say?" I blink.

"A word beginning with C?"

"Cunt?" I smirk.

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