Page 12

12

ALLISON

I ’m trapped like an animal, suffering needlessly.

And Connor Byrns is enjoying every second of it.

We stop for breakfast at a diner, and the waitress — an older lady with a perm and a name tag that says "Betty" — gives us a once-over before she smiles.

"Newlyweds?"

Before I can open my mouth to correct her, Connor wraps a thick arm around my shoulders and pulls me against him.

"Yep," he says smoothly. "Honeymoon road trip."

My mouth drops open.

Betty beams.

"Oh, how precious! Y’all just look adorable together."

I whip my head toward him, my eyes wide with betrayal.

"What?”

Connor just smiles that perfect, smug, cocky-ass smile.

He leans in, rubbing slow circles over my shoulder.

"She’s still adjusting to married life," he tells Betty.

I gawk at him.

"Adjusting? What the?—"

He cuts me off, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

"She’s a little shy," he murmurs. "But she’s the best thing that ever happened to me."

Betty clutches her chest. "Oh, honey! That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard!"

I can’t process this.

Connor just sighs like a lovesick fool in front of a total stranger.

Betty winks at me.

"Oh, sweetheart, you got yourself a good one," before she waltzes away.

I numbly eat my food and drink my coffee, feeling like I’m stuck in a nightmare I can’t wake up from.

Even worse, Connor keeps up the act the entire meal, casually calling me “babe” like it’s normal.

“Pass me the salt, babe.”

“Would you like more coffee, babe?”

“How’s your breakfast, babe?”

In between his babe comments, he steals a piece of my toast like we’re some old married couple.

He even rubs my back while talking about “our future,” which makes me choke on my coffee.

When we finish eating, he tips Betty extra.

“Gotta treat my wife right.”

I shove him as soon as we hit the parking lot .

"What the hell was that?”

He shrugs. "What? You heard Betty. I’m a good one."

I gape at him.

"You—you can’t just?—"

He grins, opening the passenger door for me.

"After you, Mrs. Byrns."

I whip my to-go coffee at him.

He catches it, not spilling a drop.

I stare at him, vibrating with rage.

Smug bastard.

I hope he spills it on his lap and burns his dick.

* * *

We check in at another roadside inn.

I’m on high alert.

As soon as Connor says we need a room, I open my mouth to correct him, but he tickles my side, making me squirm and giggle.

He doesn’t stop until the clerk hands him the key.

I protest, but he wraps his arm around me, pulling me against him. “Come along, wife.”

I’m fairly certain I have an aneurysm from his words.

We get to the room, and once again, I’m in hell.

One room.

One small bed.

I toss my bag onto the chair and beeline for the bathroom, already planning to lock myself in there if necessary.

But Connor grabs my wrist, tugging me so suddenly that I land right in his lap.

I stop breathing.

His arms cage around me.

"Let’s talk wedding plans, sweetheart," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

I try to push off his chest but accidentally palm his abs.

Fuck.

His chest rumbles with laughter.

"You wanna feel me up again, babe?"

I shriek, shoving myself away so hard that I roll onto the floor.

Connor’s fucking dying laughing.

I look up at him, humiliated to my core.

I’m going to die right here in a shitty motel room with a cocky hockey player laughing over my corpse.