Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Instead, he was trying to protect me from my family. There wouldn’t be any stopping by their house. There wouldn’t be any relief in my mom’s eyes or a quietly presented blanket for the baby that she’d secretly crocheted when my dad wasn’t home. If I married Otto, I had a feeling that I’d never get to see my family again unless we crossed paths at the grocery store.
What did my dad always say? God answered prayers but that didn’t mean you always got the answer you wanted.
“Marriage is forever,” I said, my voice cracking as I looked at him. “I don’t—I don’t want to get divorced. We can’t just get married because you feel guilty for something that wasn’t your fault or because—”
Otto put his hand over my mouth in exasperation. “Not even married yet and you’re already talkin’ about divorce.”
“I’m just trying to tell you that I don’t believe in temporary marriages,” I mumbled, his palm still gently covering my mouth.
“Well, lucky for you, when I make a promise I keep it,” he replied, dropping his hand. “Got no plans to leave you.”
“You can’t know that,” I said reasonably. “For all you know I snore and—and poop my pants.”
“Snoring and pooping your pants are the worst things you can think of?” he asked in amusement.
“Maybe I’m a terrible cook,” I continued, ignoring when his smile made my stomach flutter. “Maybe I watch really terrible shows and I’m rude. Maybe I’m a really mean, rude, awful person.”
“Or maybe I am?” he said, tilting his head questioningly.
“If you were a terrible person you wouldn’t be trying to get me to marry you,” I grumbled.
Otto let out a little laugh and reached out to cup my face in his hands. “If you were a terrible person, I wouldn’t be tryin’.”
“I think it’s probably a really bad idea.”
“Don’t know until you do it.”
“I do know.”
“You gonna marry me anyway?” he asked, leaning close.
What if they were wrong about my dad? What if it all turned out to be a misunderstanding and we didn’t find out until after I was already married?
No.
With a sinking feeling, I knew that no matter what they found out about that stash of guns in the cabin—I’d never be able to go back to my parents’ house. Not if I kept the baby. Could I marry Otto to keep him or her? Because that was really what it came down to. I could choose to tie my life to his, this man who was offering everything, and be able to live, not just live but possibly thrive—or I could try and make my way alone with a little retail experience and only a suitcase of worn out clothes to my name.
When I considered it that way, the answer was so clear that it may as well have been flashing like a neon sign.
“Okay,” I replied, finally. “I’ll marry you.”
I wasn’t surprised by the press of his lips, but I’d forgotten how the feel of them made every nerve in my body come to life. I reached out to grip his forearms as he tilted my head and ran his tongue along my lower lip.
“Next time, you’re gonna come,” he muttered against my mouth. “Swear to God, at least twice.”
I huffed out a breath at his words, wondering why he cared so much, but within seconds the only thing I could focus on were our points of contact. His hand on the side of my neck, my hair wrapped around his other fist, his heart racing beneath my palms, his tongue sliding against mine.
“Ahem,” an amused voice said from the doorway a few minutes later. “Looks like you’re feeling a bit more chipper.”
“Fuck,” Otto breathed, resting his forehead against mine. He raised his voice a little in annoyance. “Give us a minute?”
“On my bed?” his mom asked with a snort. “Not on your life, bud.”
I wanted to sink through the floor. I didn’t care where I ended up as long as it was anywhere else.
“Esther and I are gettin’ married,” Otto announced, pulling away.
There was a shocked silence from the doorway, but I couldn’t make myself look at her. She probably thought we were nuts, or worse, that I was taking extreme advantage of the situation—which I was.
“Well, congratulations…again.”
“Thanks, Ma.”
I had to look up as Otto pulled me to my feet, but by then Heather had hidden any shock or horror from her expression. She was smiling.
“When?” she asked, glancing between us.
“Tonight,” Otto replied.
“What?” I knew my jaw was hanging open, but I couldn’t seem to close my mouth.
“Nice try,” his mom said wryly.
“Tomorrow then,” Otto said stubbornly.
“You have to get a license,” she said, leaning against the doorway. “And wait three days.”
“Fine,” Otto said, towing me toward the door. “Three days then.”
“Otto,” I hissed, pulling at his hold.
“Your bride doesn’t seem super excited,” Heather mused, blocking the doorway.