Page 36 of Claimed By the Enemy
“Indeed, it is,” Dom agrees. “Although I have to admit, I’m going to miss having her around.”
“You’ll survive,” I say.
“Will I? I’m not so sure.”
We’re having two conversations now. One that Amara can hear, polite, normal, and safe. And another one underneath, loaded with meaning and challenge and the memory of everything that’s happened between us.
“I’m sure you’ll find ways to keep yourself occupied,” I continue.
“I always do. Although some activities are more enjoyable than others.”
Heat flares in my cheeks, and I take a sip of wine to cover my reaction.
“You two are so sweet,” Amara says, oblivious to the tension. “I love seeing couples who still flirt after they’re married.”
Flirt. Is that what we’re doing?
“Sophie brings out the romantic in me,” Dom says, his eyes never leaving mine.
“That’s beautiful. You can tell you’re still in the honeymoon phase.”
If only she knew what our honeymoon phase actually looked like.
“Something like that,” I murmur.
After dinner, Dom walks us to the door, playing the gracious host until the very end.
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” Amara says. “And thank you for being so understanding about the trip. Some husbands would be jealous of their wives gallivanting around without them.”
“I trust Sophie completely,” Dom replies. “Don’t I, sweetheart?”
“Completely,” I echo.
“Although,” he continues, “I hope you’ll reconsider the timeline. A week or two seems excessive for a simple girls’ weekend.”
“We’ll see how it goes,” I say.
“Yes. We will.”
He kisses my cheek goodnight, and I feel his lips brush against my ear.
“Sweet dreams, Sophie. Try not to plan any more escapes while I’m sleeping.”
Then he’s stepping back, smiling pleasantly at Amara, and I’m left standing there with my heart racing and the distinct impression that I’ve just lost the first battle in a war I didn’t even know we were fighting.
As I walk Amara to her car, she glances back at the house where Dom is still standing in the doorway.
“He’s… very attentive,” Amara says carefully, still looking back at the house. “Are you happy, Sophie? Really happy?”
The question catches me off guard. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know. Something just feels…” She shakes her head. “Never mind. I’m probably overthinking it.”
“Yeah,” I say. “You probably are.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow about the boat details,” she says, giving me a quick hug. “This trip is going to be exactly what you need.”
I watch her drive away, then turn back toward the house where my husband is waiting.
