The Wrong Bride: Chapter 27

I look up in surprise when the kitchen door opens. Raven walks in wearing a sports bra and some really tight leggings that make it impossible to keep my eyes off her. She freezes when she sees me, her eyes wide.

“Morning,” she says, a forced smile on her face.

“Morning.”

Things have been weird between us lately. It’s like we no longer know how to behave around each other, when we used to be such good friends. I suppose most of that is caused by me. I’ve been waking up early and working late to avoid going to bed with her. I feel horrible about forcing her into this marriage, but I’m not making it any better by avoiding her. If anything, I just seem to be making her uncomfortable, and I have no doubt she’s started to feel unwelcome around me. I need to get my shit together.

Raven walks over to the coffee machine, giving me one hell of a view of her ass. This is part of the reason I’ve been staying away from her all week. Having her here at home with me has made it impossible to ignore how fucking beautiful she is. Just seeing her in the sexy nightgowns she wears at night makes it impossible to think straight. I’m scared I’ll do or say something inappropriate. Raven and I are straddling this weird line of being married yet being nothing more than friends, and I don’t know how to deal with it.

“Ares?”

I look up at Raven and force a smile onto my face.

“I asked if you wanted another cup of coffee?”

I shake my head and tip my head toward the fridge. “No, thank you. There’s some breakfast for you in the fridge. Donna told me you haven’t been eating much? Is the food not to your liking?”

She tenses for a moment and shakes her head. “No, it’s not that. I just… I can’t eat much, Ares. I’m a model, remember?”

I push away from the kitchen counter and walk up to her, my hands wrapping around her waist, my fingers touching on either end. “Rave, you can afford to eat a little more. You’d still be the sexiest woman alive, you know?”

Her eyes widen, and then she smirks. “Is that so?”

I bite down on my lip, realizing what I just said. What’s wrong with me? This is exactly what I’ve been worried about. I’ve never had a problem keeping inappropriate thoughts about her deeply suppressed, so what changed?

I let go of her and take a step away, but she follows and wraps her hands around my tie.

“Can we stop?” she asks, her tone pleading.

“Stop what?”

“This,” she whispers. “Dancing around each other, avoiding each other. We’ve been married for a week and I’ve barely seen you, much less spoken to you. Why is that I feel like I lost one of my closest friends?”

Her words catch me off-guard, and I reach for her, the back of my hand brushing over her cheek. “Rave,” I murmur. “I just… I thought it would be good to give you space. The last couple of days have been a lot for both of us. I was worried I’d make you uncomfortable. Being in each other’s personal space like that, I’m not sure. I just didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

It isn’t the full truth, but it’s as close as I can give her right now.

“You are,” she tells me. “You are making me uncomfortable by keeping your distance. It’s weird, and I hate it. We’ve always been friends, Ares. Why does that need to change? Surely marriage should’ve brought us closer? Do you truly hate being married to me that much?”

A hint of pain flashes through her eyes, and it fucking guts me. Fuck. “What? No, Raven. What the fuck?” I wrap my hands around her waist and lift her on top of the kitchen counter with ease. Her eyes widen, and she places her hands against my chest.

I take a step closer to her and stand between her legs, unsure what to say, yet unable to push aside my sudden intense need to reassure her. “I just feel guilty, Rave. I’m pissed off at Hannah, and I’m mad at myself for doing this to you. Fuck. I just…” How do I explain that I’m having a hard time accepting that the life I so carefully planned out vanished into thin air? How do I tell her that my mind is a complete fucking mess, and that I can’t figure out why I’m not more upset about the way things worked out, the way Hannah and I parted ways? I should be heartbroken, but more often than not, it isn’t even Hannah I’m thinking about — it’s Raven. I want to do right by her, and I don’t know how to do that. I don’t want to clip her wings, and I can’t bear to see her smile dim. I don’t want to make her feel trapped in this marriage with me. I’m terrified that she’ll come to resent me for forcing her into this.

She inhales shakily and looks into my eyes. “I’ll never be her,” she says softly. “I know that, Ares. I know I’m not the woman you want to wake up to. I know you can’t stand having me in your bed at night. I get it. I know you’re hurting, Ares. But please… please don’t distance yourself from me. If asking you to treat me as your wife is too much, then all I’ll ask for is your friendship. I miss you, Ares. What do I do? How do I make my presence more bearable for you?”

“Bearable?” I repeat, confused. “Fucking hell, Cupcake.” I drop my forehead to hers and inhale deeply. She’s always smelled like vanilla cupcakes and sunshine. Many things have changed throughout the years, but not this. “I’m so fucking sorry.” I pull away to look at her. “It’s not you, baby. Your presence in my home doesn’t make me even remotely uncomfortable. It’s quite the opposite. I’m worried being around me is uncomfortable for you. I’ll be honest with you, Rave, I’m having a hard time processing everything that happened. It’s hard to believe that you’re my wife now, and I can’t quite figure out what that even means for us.”

She smiles at me so sweetly that my heart clenches. “Didn’t we agree that we don’t have to figure it out right away? I can tell you this much, though: there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. There isn’t much you could do that’d make me uncomfortable, and if you do, I’ll simply tell you.” She raises her finger to her lips. “These lips excel at complaining about things. I’m not some meek woman you need to protect, Ares. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t chosen to marry you.”

My gaze drops to her lips, and I swallow hard. Fuck. She tasted so good on our wedding day, and I’ve wanted another taste ever since. How would she react if I tell her I’ve been a fucking mess because I want her and dream of her every single night? Would she think I’m a sick son of a bitch?

“I hear you,” I murmur. “I’ll do better from now on.”

She nods. “No more avoiding me, okay?”

“I promise.”