Page 77 of Otto: The Hawthornes

“You’re really thinking about socks right now?” I asked as we sat down at the dining room table.

“I’m thinkin’ about socks,” he confirmed, opening up his lunch. “If I wasn’t thinkin’ about socks, I’d be thinkin’ about stripping you out of that dress and layin’ you out on this table.” He took a big bite of his hamburger.

I stared at him open-mouthed.

He nodded. “So, socks,” he muttered around the food in his mouth.

We spent the next hour deliberately not talking about anything sexual, much to my relief. He described what it was like growing up in his family and in the shadow of the club he belonged to—the Aces and Eights Motorcycle Club. I explained further about what would’ve happened if my dad had chosen my husband and what my life would’ve looked like. We debated whether Noel or Rumi were more annoying and he told me about going to my family’s garden center and seeing Ephraim and Caitlyn.

“She seemed nice,” Otto said, leaning back in his chair. “Real concerned about Ephraim’s opinion, though.”

I nodded. That wasn’t anything unusual. “Don’t most wives care what their husbands think?” I asked easily.

Otto laughed. “My mom couldn’t give a rat’s ass what my dad thinks.”

“That’s not true,” I argued.

“Okay, not completely,” he conceded. “She wouldn’t cause major problems on purpose, but she sure as hell says what she wants when she wants.”

“Your dad can’t be happy about that.”

“Hell, I think that’s what he likes about her,” Otto mused.

“My parents were the opposite,” I replied, putting my feet up on the chair next to me. “My mom would never say something that she thought would bother my dad.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. His word is law.” I swallowed against the lump in my throat. “She wouldn’t go against him.”

“My mom would,” Otto murmured, watching me closely. “She thought he was doin’ some shit that she didn’t agree with—she’d never let it fly.”

“Is that what you want?” I asked lightly. “Someone that disagrees with you all the time?”

“Hell no,” Otto said with a laugh. “But sugar, I wouldn’t want a doormat either. I’m doin’ somethin’ that bothers you, I’d sure as shitwantyou to speak up, alright?”

“You say that now,” I joked.

“I’m not kiddin’.” Otto leaned forward in his seat. “I’m not in charge of you, Esther. You’re an adult. You make your own choices. We’re married, we’re working as a team—yeah? I got a problem with somethin’ you’re doin’, I’ll say so. I expect you to do the same.”

“Okay,” I replied, hoping that I’d be able to hold up my end of the bargain.

I’d done an okay job standing my ground when it came to not anticipating our wedding more than we already had, but once we were already married? It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that I’d be fighting nineteen years of conditioning in order to argue with Otto about anything.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said gently, reaching out to tug playfully on the end of my hair. “This shit ain’t easy.”

“Do you feel robbed?” I asked quietly. “Not marrying someone that you chose?”

He watched me for a long moment before slowly shaking his head. “I chose you that night in the woods,” he said with a small smile. “Just didn’t realize it at the time.”

Chapter 12

Otto

I’d thought thatthe few days before the wedding were going to drag, considering the blue balls I was sporting, but surprisingly, they flew by. My gramps had told me not to bother coming into work, so Esther and I had spent the past few days together, getting to know each other and unfortunately keeping our hands to ourselves.

We’d gone to dinner at my grandparents’ house so Esther could meet the rest of the family, and she’d done pretty well with the onslaught. There were so many of us that there was no chance of keeping everyone straight, but she’d done her best and by the end of the night had been comfortable enough to be herself and had charmed everyone from my gramps to my cousin’s newborn baby. There was a sweetness to Esther that you didn’t encounter very often, and I was glad that the people that were most important to me recognized it.

“Lookin’ good,” Micky called out from the doorway.

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