Page 69 of The Spare

"It's eight-thirty."

"In the morning?" Melody squeaks, putting the back of her hand to her lips.

Boy, she will not let that sheet fall. She is clutching onto it for her life.

"Hmhm."

"Mason,school!"she says trying to move the tray. "I gotta go to school; I'm missing my first class!" I put out a hand to stop her.

"No school today," I say sternly. "I already called them and informed your teachers that you are out sick today. You'll go back tomorrow. Today, you rest, and we pick out your wedding dress for our wedding on Saturday."

Her head recoils in shock, and her voice goes up an octave or two. "Wedding dress?" Her brows furrow together."Saturday?That's in two days!"

"I know."

We're silent for a bite while we take turns eating with the spoon and fork. She puts the spoon down and then turns her head towards me. Her eyes are big in her face, and it looks like it takes everything in her to hold my eye contact. "Mason, you don't have to marry me just because we…" she trails off, obviously embarrassed.

"Had sex. We had sex Melody."

She averts her eyes. A part of me is pleased she's so shy and timid regarding intimacy. I want to break her walls down brick by brick, baring parts of her to me that no one else has ever gotten to see.

"And besides, a wedding is non-negotiable, baby," I say, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. I stand up, grabbing her tray and then motioning to her dress and underwear at the foot of the bed. "I tookthe liberty of picking this out for you; I thought you'd be comfortable in it. I have to go work in the study, but I'll be back out at lunch. Daniel's going to make poached salmon and creamed spinach. Your favorite."

"Who's Daniel?" she asks, blinking up at me, still clutching that damn sheet to her breasts.

"Our chef. He comes at breakfast, stays half the day and makes our lunch and dinner. If you want to adjust the menu, please speak with him. I'm not picky and will eat just about anything." I lean down and press my lips to hers firmly.

I pull away and go to walk around the bed to head to the door with the tray, but her next question stops me.

"Do we have a maid?" she asks, raising both her brows.

"No," I say, turning back around to face her. "I normally clean. It's relaxing." I refuse to share with her that it's what I filled my days up with while I waited for her. "Why, would youlikea maid?" I tilt my head waiting patiently.

She shakes her head no.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

I take another step closer, making her arch her head further to look up at me. "If you would like one in the future, please let me know, okay?"

"Okay," she says quietly, her eyes flicking between mine.

I turn and head out of the bedroom, disposing of the tray in the kitchen and rinsing the dishes quickly, putting them in the dishwasher and going back to work.

***

Four hours later we've had lunch and are driving to a wedding boutique in Manhattan. The traffic is abysmal, and my temper is slightlyhigh as the stock numbers were just not in my favor today. My hand is on her thigh, and I'm looking out the window, waiting for the light to change when she brings up another subject that causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand up.

"I need to get on birth control," she says, keeping her eyes nailed to the car in front of us.

I pull off slowly, clearing my throat. "You're not on it already?" I ask, keeping my tone level.

I have not a fucking clue why I didn't think to ask.

"No. There was no need to," she says in a small voice.

I think back to her journal, how every boyfriend she'd ever gotten involved with ended up disappearing. I grunt, thinking about the hundreds of thousands of dollars of my inheritance I'd sunk into bribing those men to leave the city, leave her, and never return.