Page 80 of Hidden Echoes

She blinks, caught off guard by the answer.

“Listen, I’m only going to say this once.” My voice is firmer than I expected. “No matter what the hell Carter says, you’re my wife. And I’m not giving you a fucking annulment. Because that’s not what you really want.”

She looks down, biting her lip. “But that’s what you want… I forced you into it.”

Something in her voice—hesitation, maybe insecurity—makes something in my chest twist.

I step closer, the second time I’ve pushed past the line between us. My hand reaches out, tentative at first, before resting on the counter beside her, almost as if I’m testing the water.

The heat of her skin, so close, feels foreign—intimate in a way that catches me off guard.

I don’t usually do this, don’t usually close the distance like this. But with her, it’s different.

My fingers brush the edge of the counter, just barely touching the same space she’s occupying.

I can feel her tense, but she doesn’t pull away. That makes the air between us feel even more charged, like everything I’m holding back is waiting for a reason to spill over.

I’m not used to this, used to keeping my distance, to letting the silence and the space keep things in check. But here, with Mia, everything seems different.

She doesn’t push me away, doesn’t pull back like I expect.

And it surprises me. More than I want to admit

Touching her should feel strange. Should feel uncomfortable.

But it doesn’t.

It’s easy. The easiest thing I’ve ever done.

I brush the pad of my finger along her cheek, feeling the softness of her skin beneath my touch. Her breath catches, and I see her bite her lip harder, as if trying to hold something back.

It pulls at me, that small, fragile movement.

The urge to close the distance between us, to kiss her, takes hold, stronger than I expect.

The tension in the room thickens, like something is waiting to snap, and I can barely hold myself back.

But I focus, forcing myself to stay still. My finger lingers just for a second longer, the heat of her skin against mine grounding me.

“You’re my wife,” I say, softer now. “It might’ve caught me off guard at first, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try.”

She stares at me, doubt and stubbornness battling in her expression.

“Why?” she asks. “You don’t even like me. You pity me. That’s what he said.”

My jaw tightens. “Fuck what Carter said.”

She blinks. I keep going.

“The truth is, if anyone should feel sorry for someone here, it’s you for me. You’re strong, Mia. Resilient. You could do anything if it weren’t for the shitty men who held you back.”

She studies me, trying to figure out where I’m going with this.

"I'm the bastard who barely knows what the hell he's doing… well, except when it comes to you. I don’t know how to explain it—you justfeelright,” I chuckle softly. “You’re beautiful. Probably the most beautiful, crazy girl I’ve ever met. And somehow, by some miracle, you like me.”

I pause, watching every little reaction on her face.

“So why the hell would I throw that away? I’m not that stupid.”

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