Page 64 of Mail Order Bride: A Psychological Thriller

I kiss her on the lips. She tastes like the candy she just ate— peppermint.

“You're pretty good yourself, I hear,” I say. “The guys at the poker table said they thought you were something special.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

She kisses me, hard, on the mouth. “You don't seem happy.”

“Be careful,” I say. “This town can be a brutal place. People here don't like to lose.”

She climbs off me and walks over to the window, looking out at the dark. “I don't understand you.”

“What's there to understand?”

“You're angry.”

“I’m not angry.”

“Yeah, you are,” she says, and she's right. Maybe I'm a little angry, but I can't pinpoint exactly why. “And not only are you trying to control me—you’re gaslighting me.”

“Gaslighting you?”

She turns to me, her eyes tearing up. “You don't know what it's like to be out here all alone.”

“Trust me,” I say. “I know exactly what it's like.”

She scoffs. “It's not the same.”

“I don't even know what we're arguing about.”

“Well,” she says, and I see the anger spark in her eyes. “Let me spell it out for you. You're pissed—for whatever reason—about me playing a round of poker with the guys in town. And instead of just coming right out with it, you're being passive aggressive, and you're trying to make me think I'm crazy.”

It's a little shocking how accurate she is. “I just want to make you happy,” I say. “And I want to keep you safe. Is that too much to ask?”

“Safe from what?”

I can’t tell her the horrors I’ve seen. I can’t tell her about the work I do, trying to bring people to justice, when there is none. She wouldn’t understand. So I simply say, “Everything.”

Sometime later, we're in the bedroom and she's pulling my shirt off. She undoes my belt and zipper. I pull her dress off her shoulders. “I don't want to fight, Joel.”

“That,” I say. “That was just a warm-up. It's still early yet.”

She smiles, understanding the reference. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Whatever you want.”

“I want you to make me come.”

“You're an animal,” I say. “An absolute animal.”

For the next few days, we barely speak. But we make love every chance we get. I fuck her in her every room, on the bed, in the shower, on the floor. I fuck her in the boathouse. I fuck her in the garage. I fuck her in the woods. I fuck her in the barn. I fuck her in the kitchen. Miraculously, I never, ever, feel like fighting the next day. I want to fuck her instead.

“Do you enjoy being married?” she asked one night, catching me off guard. She had been lying next to me, her breathing soft and light, and I thought she was asleep.

“Sure do.”

She rolled over to face me. I kissed the tip of her nose.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” I said. “If I'd have known it would be like this, I'd have done it a lot sooner.”