The Wrong Groom

by Emelia Blair

  Today had taught me something valuable, I mused, as I looked down at her pale face and her softly parted lips.

  I was completely and irrevocably in love with Charlotte.

  8

  Charlotte

  My ribs ached.

  That was the first blurry thought in my mind as I dragged myself out of unconsciousness by sheer force of will.

  My limbs felt heavy, as if they were made of steel and every movement hurt my body in a way that felt so familiar that fear gripped me by the throat.

  My eyes were still closed as I tried to recall what had happened and there was a strange fogginess in my mind that didn’t seem very natural. I tried to crawl my way out of it, but that just brought upon a headache.

  My throat was so parched.

  Opening my eyes was a task in itself and after a few seconds of unmitigated effort, I found myself staring at a ceiling that looked oddly familiar. As I became more aware of my surroundings, I realized that the sheets under me were some of the softest I had ever felt.

  Sensing movement to my left as the bed shifted, I blasted into full awareness.

  I turned my head and saw the last thing that I had ever imagined I would see.

  Philip leaned against the headboard, a pair of thick rimmed black glasses perched on his nose as he frowned down at some documents he was studying. His faded gray T-shirt was loose around his form, and he looked like a complete nerd, albeit a very hot one.

  The blanket that covered me, rested casually over his abdomen, hiding his lower body from sight.

  When he hissed in annoyance, I snapped out of it, reality washing over me.

  I was about to push myself into a sitting position, when a wave of dizziness overtook me, and Philip chose that moment to pay attention to me.

  His eyes widened, and he tossed his papers aside and leaned over me, his fingers drifting over my forehead and my face, so light that I could barely feel them.

  “How are you feeling?”

  His voice held a note of anxiousness and I closed my eyes, my throat hurting, “Water.”

  He blinked and then his head moved out of my sight for only a moment before he was back, this time helping me into a reclining position. The water was chilled and as the cool liquid poured down my throat, I felt more awake.

  However, my body still hurt, and I winced as I recalled each and every event in perfect clarity.

  “You have been advised bed rest,” Philip informed me, a smug look on his face, and I wondered what he was so happy about till he gave it away, “Till you are back on your feet, you will remain under my tender and loving care.”

  “Bed rest?” Even I could hear the disbelief in my voice. “Over a few bruises?”

  When Philip’s expression grew stark, I realized that I had said the wrong thing, and I tried to rectify, “Even if I am ‘advised’ bed rest, why is it in your bed and why are you in it with me?”

  The darkness remained in his eyes, but his tone was light, “Well, as your husband, I get to play nurse with you. Besides, I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

  His last statement thrummed in me.

  He didn’t want me to wake up alone.

  I didn’t have the strength to argue with him and so I just stared at him, “How long have I –“

  Philip took my bandaged wrist and checked the wrappings, “For over twenty-four hours. The doctor gave you something to help you sleep longer.”

  My body jerked, “Twenty-four hours?! I need to go check the damage to my –“

  His hand circled around my uninjured wrist and I thought, for a moment, that he looked angry, “The bakery is fine. It’s been taken care of.”

  “What do you mean? Who’s taking care of it?” The words stumbled out of me.

  “I am.”

  My eyes narrowed at him, “I told you before that I don’t want your money, Philip.”

  Philip gave me a smile that told me he didn’t plan on listening to me, “And I told you that since we’re married, what’s mine is yours and vice versa. So, you can look at it like this: I’m fixing up something that’s mine or you’re fixing up something using what’s yours.”

  His weird wordplay threw me off and I wanted to hit him.

  “I want you to sign those papers tomorrow,” I hissed at him, annoyed and angry.

  He shrugged, turning to pick up the document he had put aside when I had woken up, “I don’t want to.”

  I saw red.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Philip. Stop playing these games with me. I have nothing that you could possibly get out of this sham of a marriage. Just sign those papers already so that we can both move on with our lives!”

  The words came tumbling out and I realized how desperately I wanted him gone because each and every moment spent with him, made feelings stir inside of me that I had buried for years.

  He gave me a long look, “You’re wrong. There is something I’m getting out of this. And I refuse to give that up.”

  As he climbed out of bed, I noticed the bandages wrapped around his other arm.

  My blood ran cold, “What’s that? What happened to you?”

  Philip glanced at the wrappings and shrugged, “It’s nothing to worry about. Just a shallow knife wound.”

  I didn’t believe him.

  “People don’t get heavy bandaging for a shallow knife wound, Philip. Don’t lie to me.”

  He walked over to my side and then leaned over, making me bristle at his proximity.

  His arms caged me, and he grinned at me, “You’re so cute.”

  I scowled at him as a response. He leaned over and planted a kiss on the tip of my nose, making my eyes widen.

  He darted away before I could react and as he reached the door, I could feel how red my face was. He looked over at me, his tone serious, “I’m not playing games with you, Charlotte. This time I’m playing for keeps.”

  His words shook something in me and I could do nothing more than stare at his retreating back.

  Playing for keeps?

  I clenched my fists.

  I don’t know what his definition of ‘playing for keeps’ was, but I was done being toyed with.

  No. I wasn’t going to slide into his arms, or anybody else’s this time.

  It took being burned twice to teach me that I could trust nobody with my heart, but myself.

  I struggled to climb out of bed, biting my lower lip to hold in the whimpers of pain. I refused to think about him, about anything.

  I was wearing a large, oversized black T-shirt and from the scent alone I could tell who it belonged to. The very idea of Philip changing my clothes made my face burn red.

  Slowly, I made my way to the bathroom, my whole body screaming with agony.

  It was only once I was done with all my basic necessities that I stared at myself in the mirror. The familiar sight of bruises on me sent me back to days past, and I could see myself as a little girl looking in the mirror of that one room apartment, trying to figure out how to best hide all those marks on my skin.

  However, this time I had nothing to hide them with.

  My face looked slightly better, and I couldn’t see the bruising on my chest and stomach, because both had been bandaged. I had spent days looking much worse than this.

  I shrugged back into my shirt and saw a small box marked with my name.

  Opening it, I felt a sense of relief at seeing the toiletries from my apartment.

  Quickly brushing my teeth and fixing my rumpled hair, I walked out of the bathroom, feeling more like myself.

  Philip stood there, this time wearing a shirt.

  I suppressed my disappointment at that.

  The look on his face was serious, “The police is coming by in half an hour. You need to talk to them.”

  “All right.” I replied feeling awkward.

  The police were involved now. Knowing who Philip was, they would actually take this investigation seriously.

  He stood there just studying me, his hands in the poc
kets of his sweatpants and I didn’t like the way he was scrutinizing me, till he finally said, “You look better.”

  I blinked.

  “I thought you would be more traumatised.”

  “I don’t have time to be traumatised,” I sighed. “I have to get the shop back running within the week. I have to get in touch with the girls, tell them they can’t come in for the next few days. All the stock of perishables has to be handled appropriately. I’ve got too much work.”

  Philip didn’t comment on my list of tasks. Instead, he watched me, before finally saying, “You know, Agatha kept bringing me goodies from this amazing bakery that she knew. She never told me where it was. So, when I found out your address, and that you ran a bakery, I was quite surprised.”

  I shrugged, “Yeah, well. I just hope I fix everything in time to get it back running.”

  He frowned at me, “I told you –“

  “Yeah,” I glared at him, “I heard you the first few times of your desire to play the hero. Go ahead, Philip. I’ll pay you back each and every cent that you put in my place!”

  The annoyance in his face mirrored mine as he stepped forward, “Just look at it as a bloody investment!”

  I took a step closer, my brow knitted, “I don’t want an investor!”

  “Well, you got one, so too bad!”

  We were standing toe to toe, scowls on both our faces, before the anger on Philip’s face was replaced by something else, something darker and hungrier.

  Before I could move, he had my jaw gripped in his firm hand, and he swooped down to press his lips against mine.

  The action was so sudden that it took me by surprise and my lips parted to protest.

  Using that to his advantage, he used his tongue to silence me, a slow and thorough ravishing that I had no hopes of keeping up with. While I could still recall my first kiss with him, this was different.

  It was darker, more intense.

  The moan that slipped out as he used his tongue on me, was beyond my control. He explored every crevice of my mouth, that wet and silky appendage taking its time to tease my tongue, play with it.

  What had started out as a gentle kiss quickly moved to deeper waters as he grew more demanding, his mouth eliciting more gasps and moans from me.

  I couldn’t keep up with him, my knees buckling at how thoroughly he kissed me, short circuiting every nerve function in my brain.

  I couldn’t think past how his tongue sucked on mine, an action that I felt was being replicated on my lower body and when his arm looped around me, pinning me to his hard form, I could make no protest.

  When he finally pulled away, I was dazed and disoriented, unable to find my footing, gasping for breath.

  I could feel his chest under my hands and when I looked up, it was only to see his blue gaze, dark with need and smug with satisfaction.

  I pushed him away, my cheeks red with embarrassment at how my lower abdomen was clenching and unclenching with desperation for something more, “I hate you.”

  He tucked his tongue in his cheek, “Because I kissed or because you kissed me back?”

  My lips pursed with thinly veiled anger, “You stay away from me, Philip. And that includes your hands and your mouth.”

  He shrugged, “I can’t make any promises.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” My voice raised in decibel.

  Philip walked closer to me, making me back away, warily.

  It amused him.

  I could see it on his face.

  I felt my back hit the wall, and he leaned over to whisper in my ear, “Like I said, I’m playing for keeps this time, Charlotte. I can’t do that from a distance, now can I?”

  My eyes grew wide at how serious he was, and when he pulled away, a small smile flirting with his lips, “Now, come on. I’ll make you something to eat.”

  I had no choice but to follow him, my mind in complete disarray.

  He took me to a large kitchen and my mouth almost watered at the latest equipment this place housed. The oven alone was a model I had been eyeing for months, knowing that I could never afford one. My fingers itched to touch it and I had to physically restrain myself.

  I had bigger things to worry about.

  This thing with Philip had to be resolved.

  He helped me into the seat at the island counter before taking out some eggs. As he moved around in the kitchen, I found myself broaching the topic, “I don’t understand.”

  “Hmm?” He glanced up at me from where he was breaking the eggs.

  “If you sign the annulment papers, you can get back to your life.”

  Philip looked annoyed, “Are we still on that?”

  I tried not to lose my temper, “I don’t do casual relationships, Philip. And I don’t see how keeping me tied down in a marriage is useful to you.”

  He picked up an onion and started chopping it.

  “I don’t want a casual relationship with you. I want the whole package.”

  My eyes stung at the words because I remembered someone saying those same words to me a few months ago. And how I thrilled I had been on hearing them.

  Philip’s voice broke into my thoughts and I looked up to see him watching me with an intensity that made my heart beat just a tad bit faster, “I’m not Erik, Charlotte. Ten years ago, I told myself I wasn’t good enough for you and I ruined what we had. I should have talked to you. And I didn’t. This time, I’m not going to make the same mistake.”

  My breath caught in my throat at his words.

  “What do you mean you thought you weren’t good enough for me?”

  I knew approaching this topic was a bad idea, but I couldn’t help it. All those unresolved feelings from years ago, were rearing their head.

  The knife stopped, and Philip stared down at the board, a tormented look on his face.

  “I was young and stupid. I had no direction in life, I was just some frat boy who thought the world revolved around him and you were so much more mature. You deserved someone who was more stable. Someone who didn’t remain drunk for days and who didn’t take everything he had for granted. How could I possibly deserve you? I knew that if I had pursued this, I would have ended up hurting you one way or another.”

  Philip shook his head, “I was too scared of hurting you.”

  A pause.

  “And then I went and hurt you even more, driving you away.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that.

  Instinct told me that these were all pretty words and that believing him would set me up for a heartbreak I might never recover from. But a part of me wanted to believe him.

  Hearing the sound of eggs sizzling over the flame, I looked up to see Philip’s back to me, and I said slowly, “That was a long time ago, Philip. We were both different people. I’m not that girl anymore.”

  That was true.

  He didn’t know who I was.

  He didn’t know the events that had taken place after I had walked in on him and that girl.

  The decisions I had been forced to make just days later.

  “So, let me get to know you, instead of running away from me all the time. Get to know me. I’m not a complete asshole this time round.”

  I raised a brow, unable to help myself, “You mean to tell me you don’t always refuse to sign annulment papers of marriages you impulsively take part in?”

  A chuckle, “Smart ass.”

  I found myself smiling slightly.

  As he placed the eggs in front of me, I found my stomach grumbling and I dug in with a fork.

  It didn’t taste so bad. Philip actually knew his way around the kitchen.

  “So, is this your apartment?” I asked.

  He was pouring a cup of that black tea that he had always been obsessed with and he grinned, “Yeah. It’s closer to my office. I’ve got the whole top floor.”

  My eyes widened, “Oh.”

  “I can give you a tour,” He offered, making me wonder how big the place had to be.

/>   I shook my head, “Maybe later.”

  The silence between us was a little awkward, till Philip said, “I’m serious about wanting to get to know you, Charlotte. I want to fix us.”

  I chewed my eggs, and swallowed, “There is no ‘us’ to fix, Philip. It was one kiss, ten years ago. You’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me and set down his mug, “Then why’d you disappear? Even Agatha didn’t hear from you for an entire year, except that one message you sent her.”

  Suddenly, the eggs tasted like rubber.

  How could he possibly understand?

  My tone was terse, “Things happened. I had to leave.”

  “Leave to where?” He persisted, his expression telling me he didn’t quite believe me.

  “Does it really matter, Philip?” I sighed, looking at him. “This happened way back.”

  “It’s important because you’re telling me that you leaving me wasn’t because of what I did,” He growled. “I’ve spent years feeling guilty over this.”

  All he had done was teach me not to trust anybody.

  “Where did you go, Charlotte?” He asked me again.

  I didn’t answer for a few moments.

  How could I tell him that I had lived on the streets, hiding out at the homeless shelters for half a year, too scared to drag Agatha or her family into my situation.

  “To a friend’s place,” My words were vague, and he could tell.

  “So, you’re going to lie to me now?” His voice was cold, and I forced myself not to let it bother me. It didn’t matter what he thought of me. I couldn’t let it matter to me.

  “You don’t have to believe me. Your sister wasn’t the only friend I had.”

  “So you let me and Agatha worry about you for an entire year till you decided to let her come back into your life?”

  I wanted to cry at those words and laugh at the absurdity of them. But I couldn’t shed more suspicion on myself because Philip had the means to get me investigated and if he ever found out what I had done, Agatha might turn away from me as well, and his sister was a lifeline to me.