"As you said, our situation is a little different. Ash is…" How do I tell them that my husband looks at me like I'm his personal tormentor?
"He's been through a lot," Jenna says carefully. "More than most."
My heart pounds. This is my chance to ask about Meghan, to finally understand what is going on between them. But fear holds me back. Fear of confirming what I already suspect, that I'll never measure up to her memory.
“He’s more guarded than the others, but deep down, he’s a good man. I’m certain he thought Flint was nuts for falling in love with me, but he accepted me.”
“Same. He taught me about forgiveness… for myself and Blaise. He’s prickly on the outside, but he cares deeply about family,” Jenna says.
I don’t know what to say. I know he won’t truly ever see me as family. Not as long as he’s in love with Meghan.
"Give him time." Jenna reaches over to squeeze my hand. “He seems distant, but it’s how he operates.”
“To be honest, the way he was tonight with you tells me he’s struggling.” Lucy sets Flynn on her shoulder and begins to pat his back.
“No kidding,” I murmur.
“What I mean is he’s struggling to be distant,” Lucy clarifies.
Jenna's eyes widen as she picks up on what Lucy is saying. “She’s right. He’s fighting with himself because he likes you.”
I want to believe them, but the memories of the last few days tell me otherwise. Ash leaving in the middle of the night. Ash telling his brother he can’t go through with this farce of a marriage. Ash ignoring me at dinner.
“My husband doesn’t want to like me.”
Both their expressions fall. “I didn’t mean…” Jenna looks to Lucy for help.
“Ash doesn’t like to let people in. It’s a way to protect himself. What we’re not very well articulating is that you’re getting to Ash, which is a good thing. Assuming you want him to love you.I mean, maybe you want something else in life.” Lucy positions Flynn at her other breast.
“Maybe he does too.” I know he does. He wants Meghan, not me.
All in all,dinner with the Ifrinns was much like being married to Ash. Yes, his brothers and their wives were friendlier and more welcoming, but I still had to play a part. I was still outside, not able to fully connect with them.
I spend the next week ordering furniture and décor for our new home and hiring staff Ash has pre-vetted.
The problem I have is that much of the furniture won’t be delivered in time. The massive king bed I've selected for our room arrives next week, a rush delivery which cost extra. But it’s the only bed I’ve ordered. The other bedrooms will stay empty until he and I can decide what to do with them.
The living room furniture, a lovely sectional, dark wood tables, and rugs won’t be delivered for two weeks. All that to say, the one king bed is the only option for Ash to sleep on unless he wants to sleep on the floor. I can totally see him grabbing a pillow and blanket and making a bed on the hardwood floors. I've seen the way he looks at me when he thinks I'm not watching. Like I'm both tempting and toxic. It makes me so angry I want to scream.
Furniture or not, today is moving day. I step into our empty house, the echoes of our footsteps bouncing off bare walls. Ash's jaw tightens as he surveys the barren space.
"Where's the furniture?" His voice carries that edge I'm becoming too familiar with.
"Delayed." Perhaps I should have been clearer about all the deliveries. "The main room has a bed and we have a dining…” I trail off as his scowl deepens.
"And what are we supposed to do until then?"
I lift my chin, refusing to cower. "We make do.” I nearly tell him to go stay with Meghan since that’s what he wants, but I’m afraid he’ll go. And since he hasn’t left at night over the week, I don’t want him to start again.
“Make do? You had one job and you couldn’t do it.”
His words feel like a slap… no, more like a punch. But I rally, refusing to let him see how much he hurts me. “What was that, Ash? Make a home?”
That flash of discomfort crosses his face as it always does at the word “home”.
“You don’t want a home. Be a wife? You don’t want a wife. At least not me as your wife. And what is your job, Ash? Because as far as I can tell, you’re not doing it either.”
His sour expression morphs into something that might be regret. "Hannah, I… I was cruel. I’m sorry. I suppose a week isn’t enough time. The furniture delay isn't your fault."
