Chapters (40)
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Epilogue One
- Epilogue Two
- Books By Natasha Madison
- Acknowledgments
“What time are we leaving?” I ask from my side of the bed, holding the sheet up on my chest while I drink the coffee he made for me.
“We can leave after this,” he says. “I’m going to have someone come and replace the bed this week.”
“What?” I ask, shocked.
“He’s not going to have the bed we have sex on,” he says, and I laugh, leaning forward and kissing him. We get up after we finish our coffee and make the bed, then get dressed.
On the ride home, we talk this time, the nervousness of before gone. He stops at the diner on the way home, and I get out with not a care in the world. He puts his arm around me, and I slip my fingers in the hand that is hanging over my shoulder, then lean over and kiss his neck. I almost forget that it’s not just the two of us. But that all changes when we walk into the diner and all the talking stops, and everyone looks over at the door.
“We aren’t in Kansas anymore,” I mumble and drop his hand, expecting him to drop his arm from around my shoulders, but he doesn’t.
“Afternoon, everyone,” he says, smiling as we walk in, letting his hand fall now, but linking our hands together. “Thought I would bring the missus in for a burger.” I see some of the old ladies side-eye me and shake their heads. I put my head down, avoiding eye contact when we sit in the booth, and he looks at me. “What are you getting?” he asks, tapping his thumb on the table.
I avoid his eyes, not wanting him to see the stupid tears that have creeped up. “I don’t know. I’m not that hungry,” I say, and he stops strumming his finger.
“Don’t let the old ones get to you,” he says, grabbing my hand and bringing it to his lips. “If they know they get to you, they will keep doing it.”
“It’s easy for you to say.” I look at him. “You haven’t been the outsider your whole life.” He doesn’t have a chance to say anything before Mr. Lewis comes over.
“I brought you two some root beer floats.” He puts the frosted mugs in front of us. “It’s a wedding present.” He smiles at us. “Always knew you two would end up together.” He winks and walks away.