Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
He tells anyone and everyone that I’m his girlfriend, so I know he wouldn’t do this.
“Uh, hi.”
The beautiful blonde leans against the ajar door. “Hi. Can I help you?”
I look at the numbers on the house and then up and down the path. Am I in the wrong place? But no, I’m at the right cabin. I put a hand to my chest as if I’m trying to calm my racing heart. “Is Colter here?”
Her smile gets bigger. “No, my husband had to step out, but he should be back soon.”
I swear the world starts to rotate, my vision blurs, and it’s like a train is speeding straight toward me. I shake my head. Surely I didn’t hear her right. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”
“Carrie Lynn. I’m Colter’s wife.”
I take another step back and run into the banister at my back. “Oh, okay, thank you,” I stutter before jogging down the steps. I’m practically sprinting down the path as tears fall from my eyes. I slow to a fast walk just so I can try to get a hold of myself. I can’t wipe my eyes fast enough, and when I see Colter coming toward me, I get sick to my stomach and feel as if I’m going to puke, right here and now. I make the decision to walk past him. His face is lit up as if he’s happy to see me. He has no idea that he just demolished my world. I keep walking past him, eyes straight forward.
“Poppy, stop. What’s wrong?”
I keep walking. He has to jog to catch up, and he stops in front of me. As soon as he puts his hands on my shoulders, I jerk from his touch. “Don’t touch me,” I growl.
His eyes are wide, and he’s searching my face for an answer. He’s holding his hands up, palms toward me. “Poppy, talk to me. What’s wrong? What happened?”
“I need to go home.”
I try to step around him, but he sidesteps me, blocking my path. “You’re not going anywhere like this. Tell me what’s wrong.”
I’m deciding if I can sprint past him, and he widens his stance. “I’m not letting you drive when you’re upset like this.”
I cross my arms over my chest and hold myself, trying to block out the pain. “You’re married.”
Guilt flashes on his face, but instantly he answers, “I’m not married.”
Clenching my eyes shut, I shake my head. The pain is real, and it feels like I’m going to die from it. How could I have trusted him like this?
He takes a step toward me. “I’m not married, Poppy.”
I point at him and with disgust, I tell him about my run-in with his wife. “I just met her, Colter, so you can quit lying to me. I just met your wife. She’s in your house… naked.”
He holds his hands in front of him. “There has to be a mistake. You were at the wrong cabin?”
I’m glaring at him. “Really? I went to your cabin and some shapely, beautiful, blond-haired woman was in a towel, and she claimed to be your wife. I wasn’t at the wrong cabin.”
He groans, shaking his head. “She’s not my wife, Poppy. She was, but we were divorced after the bombing.”
I don’t know what to do about this new bit of information. It doesn’t make me feel any better because even if they’re not married and she is his ex, he never even told me he was married in the past. And why is she naked in his house? None of this is making sense, but I do know that I’m not going to just put up with it and allow him to lie and withhold things from me.
He repeats himself. “She’s not my wife, Poppy. She’s my ex-wife.”
I hate to even hear my voice. Even I can hear the heartbreak. “She says she is your wife. Why is she in your house, wrapped in nothing but a towel?” I don’t let him answer. “None of that matters. I’m not a fool, Colter, and I’m not falling for this.”
I try to step around him again, and we practically dance down the path. He groans and then wraps his arms around me. I struggle in his arms, but I’m so fuckin’ weak when it comes to him. I start to cry again, and this time I can’t stop. Big wracking sobs that shake my whole body. I can’t stop, and Colter just holds me, stroking the back of my head down my hair over and over.
When I’m finally able to pull myself together, I don’t jerk from his hold or yell and scream like I want to. “Let me go,” I tell him.
He does so instantly, and the pure anguish on his face forces me to look down at the pavement between us. I point down the path that I came down. “That woman thinks that she’s still your wife.”