Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
He didn’t grin at the compliment. Seemed more focused on my despair than the flattery. “I hope your husband is as loyal to you as you are to him.”
My eyes flicked away again because I knew the answer to that.
“Tell him what you want, sweetheart.”
“I did, but…it’s complicated.”
“It’s not complicated. He wants to fuck other people, and you don’t. If he doesn’t accept that, then leave him.”
“He’d do it if I asked.”
“Then I don’t understand the problem.”
“I-I want him to want it too.” I kept my emotions bottled inside because I refused to let them burst free in front of Theo. I hardly knew him, and I wouldn’t treat him like my therapist or priest. “And if he doesn’t, then maybe I can learn to get used to it.”
He continued to stare at me.
“You’re judging me.”
“I’m not the judgmental type,” he said. “Marriage means different things to different people. To some, it’s a business arrangement. To others, it’s just about procreation. And to some, it’s about love. It doesn’t matter which one it is—as long as both parties agree.”
Bolton talked about starting a family in the same week he mentioned an open marriage. It was so sudden and abrupt, so polarizing, I couldn’t wrap my head around it. But when I thought about what Theo said, it made me realize Bolton wanted to change our marriage into a business relationship. It wasn’t about love anymore. It was about our wealth and our future kin. It was about pursuing other interests.
“I don’t judge you for being in an open marriage—if that’s what you both want.” His eyes remained on me, slightly flicking right and left as he watched me with his observant stare, saw right through me.
I wanted the attention off me, wanted his pity to disappear. “What does marriage mean to you?”
He dropped his closed knuckles from his cheek and rested them on the armrest.
“Is it a business arrangement?” I expected him to say marriage was off the table altogether, that he desired a life of solitude until his past caught up with him in a dark alley and claimed his life.
But to my surprise, he had a different answer. “I’d marry for love.”
For a brief moment, my pain disappeared as I looked at him, seeing this hard man in a softer light.
“I already have business arrangements. I don’t need another. I’m not the judgmental type, but I’m possessive and jealous and territorial. A man looks at my wife, he’s going to lose his eyes. He tries to touch my wife, he’s going to lose his hand. If she left the house without her ring, I’d bring it to her—and then I’d make sure she never forgot it again.” He said it with a tone of anger, like he didn’t realize how romantic he was.
“You’ve been in love before…”
His eyes remained locked on mine. He didn’t confirm or deny the statement.
“Have you been married?”
His hard stare indicated I would never get my answer. “Why do you stay with him?”
I knew I’d hit one of his buttons when he fired back like that. “I-I don’t want our marriage to end. And I guess I’m afraid if I don’t do this, then it is going to end. But maybe if we do it his way, he’ll realize it’s not right and come back to me. They say after a man cheats he becomes the most committed husband there ever was because he finally appreciates what he has. I guess I hope that’s how it’ll be for us.”
His stare didn’t change.
“They say half of men cheat, and I bet the real number is higher than that. At least he was honest with me.”
“An odd thing to be grateful for.”
“I thought you said you weren’t judgmental?”
“I’m not judgmental of the way people choose to live their lives. This isn’t a choice for you, sweetheart. But I won’t say any more about it.” He reached for his glass and took a drink. The ice cubes slid down and tapped his lips when he finished the contents. He returned the glass to the table. “I have stuff to take care of. My driver will take you home.”
Bolton came home the next day.
My stomach was tight and tense—and not in the way when I got butterflies. This was just painful.
I was in the kitchen and had just finished making a roast chicken covered in lemon slices. I didn’t care to cook, but when I made big meals like this, they lasted for days and made the effort worth it. Bolton said he liked my cooking, so I mainly did it for him, because when I was home alone cooking for myself, it made me sad.
He came in with his bag over his shoulder. He dropped it in the entryway and shed his coat before he joined me in the dining room. “Nothing better than coming home to your beautiful wife after she’s made you dinner.” His arm moved around my waist, and he dipped his head to kiss me.