Page 64 of Never the Bride
With her hair in a messy bun.
Next to my dog.
When I told her she could use the pool whenever she wanted, I didn’t think about how that would affect me—nor did I think about what she might look like if she were to use the pool.
And just to be clear, she looksdistracting.
As in, I’ve been distracted for five minutes.
By her laying out, poolside.
It’s not like I haven’t seen an attractive woman before. One month ago, I was in a relationship with a beautiful woman. But this feels different, like I’m not allowed to notice her, but Iwantto notice her. Throw in the element that we’re married, and now there’s this thought in my mind that physically I’m allowed to do more with Camila because she’s my wife. Obviously, I haven’t touched, but I’m thinking about what it would feel likeifI touched her. It’s a kind of forbidden attraction I’ve never felt before.
Wild stuff, because like I said, a few weeks ago, I thought Shanna could be the love of my life, and look how wrong I was about her.
But Camila isn’t Shanna.
She’s guarded and pushes me away more than she invites me in, but when she does let me in, something magical happens. I feel important, like she’s trusting me with little pieces of herself, like I’m a safe place for her, and I like that role. But those small moments make me want more and more from her, which is a problem when you’re trying to keep things businesslike.
I slam the shaker bottle down on the counter and drag my hands down my face, trying to clear my head.
That’s when I hear a car door slam out front.
There are only two people who would visit me on a Sunday afternoon without texting first.
I glance at Camila in her bikini and swear.
“Yoo hoo!” my mom calls as she opens the front door. “Hess?”
“Yeah.” I walk out of the kitchen, meeting my mom and dad as they close the front door.
Bart and Anita Taylor look exactly like you’d expect them to. My dad stands tall in a plaid shirt and cowboy boots, his softmiddle contradicting the years of hard work on our family ranch. Then there’s my mom. Perfectly homey, like you’ve just walked into a Cracker Barrel. Her dirty-blonde hair is twisted up into one of those claw clips, so you can see her kind eyes and smile.
“We brought you some leftovers.” She holds up a Tupperware container before kissing me on the cheek.
“Thanks.” I dart my eyes to the side, checking to see if my parents can see Camila from the living room.
They can, thanks to the glass doors instead of a wall.
My dad plants himself on my couch. “When you didn’t stop by this weekend, Mom wanted to drive over after church and see what you’re up to.”
To prevent my parents from dropping by my house since Camila moved in four weeks ago, I’ve been visiting them attheirhouse. It’s worked well until now, until I didn’t take the time to stop by and see them this week. Big mistake.
“I’ve just been busy,” I say.
“It’s lasagna.” My mom taps her finger on the Tupperware lid. “Go put it in the fridge so it doesn’t spoil.”
“Sure.” My eyes shift to Camila again, making sure she isn’t on her way inside, then I turn and head back to the kitchen.
“Is Shanna here?” my mom asks.
I freeze before opening the refrigerator door. “Why do you ask?”
“We saw someone’s car outside,” my dad says. “Figured somebody was here.”
“About Shanna…”
I suck in a deep breath and return to the living room just as my mom gasps.
