Page 93 of The Proposal Pact
It’s almost like he’s using those texts as an excuse to say all the things he wished he did but, won’t.
No, he simply ignores me as much as he can, and leaves for work as soon as he wakes up holding me like he did just now, cursing when he realizes he’s done it again.
I always wake up before he does when his alarm blares and I always stay quiet for a little while longer, reveling in his touch before I wake him up.
Everything inside me rages to stop him, to make him talk to me and explain what the hell happened between that kiss and the next morning after it and why he insists on this cold shoulder.
But then I remember that this is what we agreed upon. This is exactly how it was supposed to look, and it’s not Clover’s fault I went and started catching feelings for my fake husband.
It’s not his fault I want more when he told me from day zero that he specifically chose me because he knew he’d never want that “more” with me.
This was a fake marriage in writing alone and nothing else, and that kiss that night must’ve been a fluke. He’s probably regretting itand doesn't know how to talk about it, preferring to simply leave it be, hanging in the thick air around us.
Sure, the chemistry between us can’t be denied by either party. But that’s all that is. Lust. Pure, physical lust.
At least on Callum’s part. And kisses and deep conversations fall into a whole different category.
Sure enough, after a quick shower in the hallway bathroom, I hear the door shut as Clover leaves for work without saying anything. Nothing. Not as much as a goodbye.
It shouldn’t sting. Yet it does.
And I need to move on, stomp out those little feelings before they grow any deeper roots.
If only he didn’t make it so hard because even being a grumpy bastard, he has a secret, soft side he only allows to show when he thinks no one’s watching. But I always am, and it draws me to him like moth to a flame.
The ringing of my phone pulls me away from my pointless wallowing.
“Why do you insist on calling me this early every morning is beyond me,” I tell my best friend as I answer her call.
“You know what? I think being married to Callum has a bad effect on you.”
“How so?”Apart from my confused heart and vagina.
“You are becoming as grumpy as that husband of yours.” Shetsks. “Now, get your cute butt off the bed and come hang out with me at the boutique.”
I sigh. “What did you click on your computer this time?”
“Why do you think I’m asking you to come because I need something? Can’t I just want to see my best friend?”
“Uh-huh, so I shouldn’t bring my equipment to hook up to your server?”
“Ugh, fine, this window popped up last night and I swear I clicked to exit it! I totally did, but this morning nothing is turning on,” Grace says hurriedly, and I chuckle.
It has been something new almost every day this week. I swear this girl could break a mechanical pencil just by touching it, let alone a whole POS system.
“You know it’s not nice to use your genius best friend because you have two left hands.”
“Oh, suck it up. It’s not like you have anything better to do,genius.”
“And she doesn't even deny it.”
“Or feel any shame over it.”
I chuckle. “Fine, but you owe me breakfastandlunch for this.”
“See you soon,” she sing-songs, ending the call.
I throw the covers off, walk over to the bathroom, and turn on the shower.
