Page 26 of Marrying Mr. Wentworth (Austen Hunks #3)

Saturday — Christopher

W hen I woke up, she was already gone.

Not gone gone. Just…standing by the window, fully dressed in black leggings and a T-shirt, arms crossed, hair pulled back like she was preparing to prosecute the entire hotel for emotional crimes.

But I saw it.

The way she was staring out at the skyline like it owed her something. Like she was furious she’d ever let herself sleep next to me again.

But she had.

And more than that—she hadn’t run the second she woke up.

She’d stayed. Even if just for a moment. Even if she hated herself for it now.

I pushed myself up in bed, rubbing a hand over my face. “You know you snore, right?”

She didn’t turn. “Nope. You were dreaming.”

“Was I?”

“You said my name.”

I paused.

“And then you wrapped your arm around me,” she added, still not looking at me. “Which is clearly a violation of the no touching clause in our very legally binding forty-eight-hour contract.”

I let the smile tug at my mouth. “Sue me.”

She finally turned.

And yeah—her walls were back up. But there was something underneath them this morning. Something that hadn’t been there yesterday.

She looked…shaken. Not broken. Not weak. Just slightly less bulletproof than usual.

“I should be mad,” she said, folding her arms tighter. “I should be livid.”

“You still can be,” I said, climbing out of bed and grabbing a T-shirt. “I’ve got time.”

She ignored the joke.

“I woke up,” she said, “and for a second, I forgot how mad I was.”

I didn’t say anything.

“I forgot everything. College. The breakup. The years in between. For three whole seconds, I thought we were just…us.” Her voice was brittle. “And then I remembered,” she added quietly.

I crossed the room slowly, not touching her. Just close enough for her to feel me.

“I’m not trying to erase the past, Ari.”

“Good,” she snapped, voice sharpening. “Because you can’t. ”

“I know.” I nodded. “I don’t want to go back.”

Her brow lifted. “No?”

“I want to start over.”

She laughed, short and joyless. “Start over? We’re married. There’s no over to start from.”

“Then maybe we don’t start over,” I said. “Maybe we keep going. From right here. Right now.”

She stared at me.

I met her gaze and didn’t blink. “You can pretend last night didn’t mean anything,” I said, voice low. “You can file your papers tomorrow and tell yourself it was just a glitch in your otherwise perfect judgment…” I paused. “But we both know it wasn’t.”

Her eyes flicked away. She didn’t deny it. It was another crack. A small one. But it was there. And I wasn’t going to waste it.

“We’ve got twenty-four hours left,” I said. “Let’s see what happens.”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t smile. Didn’t melt. But she didn’t leave either.

She stood there by the window, silent. Thinking. And I knew I’d made another dent in that wall.

One more push. One more day. And I might just break it open.