Page 19

Chapter Nineteen

W hit sighed heavily into what would be Clover’s bedroom starting tomorrow. He sat at the foot of the freshly made bed.

The room was clean and tidy. He’d even wiped out the drawers of the dresser and vacuumed the upholstered seat of the only chair for good measure. But he’d forgotten the camellias at the shop. He didn’t really have a vase in the house anyway. Winter sorcerers weren’t known for their good relationships with flowers.

Guilt tugged at his chest. It had been steadily growing since Clover had produced the red cloth that now represented their handfasting.

His mind had toggled between how beautiful she’d looked in her wedding dress with fresh flowers in her hair—how bright her eyes had been, how lovely she’d smelled in the small cluttered apartment—and how scummy he felt for putting her in this situation.

He’d robbed her of her dreamed-of future, and his heart squeezed as he remembered the tears in her cornflower blue eyes when she swore to the gods, goddesses, spirits, and ancestors that she would take him as her husband. She’d tripped over the words. She’d trembled as they exchanged rings. And he didn’t miss the confusion on her face when he suggested she move in tomorrow. And the sigh! The disappointed sigh that had left those pouting lips of hers.

Whit had always thought of himself as a good guy, but he was wondering now if that had ever been true. How could he see how much she was struggling and still let her go through with this marriage? He should have backed out the moment he saw her hesitation. He was selfish—selfish and cruel.

And though he censured himself severely, he also reminded himself she seemed to be doing it all on her own—despite whatever inner hesitations she harbored. An unbidden smile spread on his lips as he recalled how she switched the words of her vow for his benefit and how she’d encouraged his kiss.

He let out a loud groan and flopped backward onto the bed. He stared at the ceiling without really seeing it.

Maybe she wasn’t as reluctant as she appeared . Maybe she just needs time to adjust. We don’t have to move so fast. I’ll text her and tell her she can take her time moving out. After all, Grandfather won’t be back for a while.

He thought as much, but he didn’t make a move for his phone. He glanced to the empty space on the bed beside him, wondering what she would have looked like if they’d had a proper honeymoon. He could almost picture her there, smiling that slow, heated smile she’d shown him after their first kiss.

He squeezed his eyes shut, banishing the fantasy as his manhood responded.

He blew out his breath in a loud gust, puffing his cheeks to steady himself. I’ll get used to it . Yes, she’s beautiful, and she’s legally my wife, but that gives me no right. This is a marriage of necessity. I already drew the line between us when I first asked her to marry me. I’m sure all this pent-up lust will wear off when I get used to her being around. She’s my housemate, and I need to treat her with respect. I can do that. I’m not an animal.

On the nightstand near the door, his phone beeped. He lunged at the thing, grinning when he saw a text from Clover.

He scowled at his own eagerness.

She’d sent him the address to her place along with the picture the priestess had taken of them.

His heart swelled as he stared at the image. He wore his polite smile, the one he wore when a particularly difficult customer finally left his shop. But Clover was even more breathtaking than he’d just pictured in his mind. She grinned happily, her eyes shining as she leaned her head on his shoulder as if this were truly the best day of her life—as if she loved him with her whole heart.

“I’ll do everything I promised,” he told her likeness. “It’s the least I can do.”

He saved the image to his phone, then opened the messenger app he used with his family.

Tapping on his grandfather’s image—the dot beside it telling Whit he was online—he attached the photo and pressed send.

The three dots jumped, indicating that Grandfather was typing.

Grandfather sent a GIF of Leonardo DiCaprio raising a champagne glass.

Grandfather

I’ll have Caldwell draw up the papers and sign them as soon as I return.

Grandfather

And what is my new granddaughter-in-law’s name?

Whit frowned. He didn’t want his grandfather to know his new wife was a summer witch just yet, not that it really mattered because he had fulfilled the terms of the deal.

Clover.

Grandfather

She’s a lovely girl. I’ll bring her something nice back from my trip as a congratulations.

Grandfather

I’m proud of you, my boy. Be good to her.

Whit could feel his grandfather’s joy through the phone screen, and he frowned. He had to know he’d only gotten married for the house. He had to know it was all a farce.

More jumping dots hopped on his screen, and Whit choked on his breath as his mother’s image appeared.

Mom

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!

The blood drained from his face as dread clenched his gut. He’d clicked on the first instance of his grandfather’s name without realizing it was the family group chat.

Then the rest of the chat members started chiming in—his cousin Caldwell followed by his wife and mother.

Caldwell

Whoa, you actually got married?

Eirwen

Congratulations!

Aunt Cheri

What??? Whit got married? How unexpectedly wonderful! Love to you both!

Whit covered his face with his hands, and the groan that escaped his lips didn’t come close to reflecting the magnitude of his feelings.

“Idiot!” he called himself. Then picking up his phone again, he sent a message that he hoped would buy him some time.

I’ll talk to you all later. I’m on my honeymoon.