Page 61 of Wife Unwanted
"He loves fishing even though he's terrible at it," Mae said.
Carey nodded. "It's a sailing boat, but I'm sure we can take it to fishing waters."
Arther looked like a boy who had just hit the jackpot. "See?" Arther said to Mae, "I told you he has a boat."
"You can fish tomorrow. The weather is going to be better than today."
Arther chuckled. "Call it a fishing double date, then."
Carey took my hand to my surprise, almost like it was an instinctual gesture as he spoke to Mae and Arther. He was asking them if they had found what they wanted, but I was too distracted to listen to the conversation. My heart was pounding at the slight contact of my skin to his and the tiny caresses of his thumb over my hand. After Arther handed Carey his rod and tackle, he and Mae waved us goodbye. I turned to Carey.
"Where are they going?"
"Weren't you listening? They bumped into some friends of theirs who asked them to visit their place."
"Oh." All of that flew past me.
"Did you have anything else you wanted here?" He asked after they were gone. I shook my head. He looked down at where our hands were joined and snatched his back like he had been burned. As though he wasn't caressing me mere seconds ago. "Let's go," he said, already marching ahead of me.
We walked in silence for most of our way back. The road was empty, and the sun was now overhead. The sound of the crashing waves in the distance beyond the houses around us and the whispering trees along the road made a beautiful soundtrack to the walk for me to want to disrupt it. And besides, I was too excited by the prospect of reading my book to worry about his coldness towards me. It was his default. It's the warmth I had to worry about. The random gestures of purchasing a book at four times it's price just because I want it. Well, make it five times the price because he ended up paying the full price of the book as well.
"Thank you," I said.
He turned around to face me, eyebrows raised.I raised the little paper bag with the book. He shrugged. "A happy wife is a compliant wife. I want this deal with the Bardwells to go through."
I rolled my eyes. "It's not as though I would sabotage it just because I couldn't get a book."
He stopped walking. He was a few feet away from me on the winding road. "No. But since you're divorcing me, you have little incentive to be on your best behaviour."
A million dollars was good enough of an incentive for most people. "You make it sound like I am a child."
He retraced his footsteps, and I thought he was coming towards me until he turned and went to lean on a tree that was a few feet away from me. He folded his arms. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Divorce."
"If you hate that I filed first, you can tell people it was you who left me if it makes you feel better."
His hand went to the bark behind him and began picking at it. "You surprised me that's for sure."
"Isn't it what you wanted?" Don't you want to marry your true love. I couldn't say it out loud, but the statement was implied.
"I'm talking about you."
The sun was blistering hot now, and the shade he was under looked tempting enough. I went over to stand beneath it a few feet away from him. What could I tell him he would believe? Did it matter anyway? The person I was in this marriage for in the first place, my mother, died a year after we married, and the person forcing me to continue it, his father, died a couple of years ago. "There's no reason for us to be together."
Carey's eyes darkened. He pushed himself forward, grabbed my hand and pulled me towards him. I gasped as the book in my hand fell and he wrapped his hands around my waist while mine plastered flat against his chest. "Carey." My mouth was too close to his, my breath fanned it as I spoke.
"Are you sure about that?"
Could he hear my heart hammering? I hope not. His sounded steady compared to mine. I nodded. "We've been in a dead marriage. You don't love me. I don't love you.You certainly don't want to run for office anymore.What's the point of continuing?"
He pressed his hands into my waist, pulling me an inch forwards to him. "Who said that's true?"
"You still want to run?" That had always been his father's dream and for a while I thought it was his dream too, but thelonger I've known him, the more convinced I am that he has other aspirations and political office, as much as it would suit him, would destroy his soul.
He tilted his head to the side, and I felt his breath fan my cheek. "There's still something we can salvage." He lowered his head and nipped my neck. "Carey." My voice was throaty than I intended. He traced his lips down my neck, then up again until he reached mine. "Why did we ever agree to it?" I swallowed each and every one of his words like it was a life-saving drug. He traced his lips again onto the other side of my neck. His hands lazily caressed my waist, lifting the hem of my top and rubbing his fingers against my skin, but never straying farther up or down.
