The Stranger's Wife | Rewritten

3 ⁓ Second First Impressions

The bastard was late.

Oreo was fed up and hungry and I was second-guessing my decision to travel overseas to salvage a marriage so none existent that Jesus himself couldn't find it in his great big book of marriages.

The marriage may have been nonexistent emotionally and physically, but it was real on paper. I couldn't count how many times I'd gone to the Civil Marriage Registry to check whether or not Willem and I were truly married. The people working there must have thought I was crazy.

Oreo half growled, half meowed inside his carriage, and if I didn't feed him soon, he would scratch my skin off the next time I tried to pet him.

I searched around the relatively small airport for a seat and found one in front of Mc Donald's.

The scent of fresh fries being fried automatically caused my stomach to rumble. I could feel the heat coming from the kitchen as I watched the lady next to me bite into a pickled burger with extra bacon. I was getting myself a triple of that same concoction as soon as Oreo was fed.

I unzipped my suitcase and then cautiously opened Oreo's carrier. He turned his nose up at the dry cat food I spilled before him but then soon realized that he wasn't getting anything else when I closed everything back up and then sauntered over to the counter to make my order.

As I waited, I studied the people milling about the airport and no one resembling a Dutch aristocrat with a giant stick up his ass came forward to claim me.

I sighed, breathing through my nose. Forced a smile when the cook behind the counter called my number twice to get my attention.

"Triple cheeseburger, extra pickles, extra bacon," she practically yelled the third time when I didn't react fast enough.

"Thank you," I muttered, and feeling like an abandoned puppy, I took the to-go bag back to the table where Oreo had all but lick the carpet in his carriage clean and was staring at me through the mesh of his carrier bag with judgmental green eyes.

"You need to stop looking at me like that," I snapped. "I asked you what you wanted, what I should do and your fucking meow was rather inconclusive."

Unwrapping my burger, I sank my teeth into it, relishing the tangy flavor of pickles and the indescribable saltiness of bacon on my tongue. "Hmm, this is good."

I chewed with my eyes closed and waited a moment before speaking again. "I know the flight was horrible, but wait until you see how beautiful this island is. You might even get to eat fresh fish right out of the ocean."

"Who are you talking to?" A deep voice rumbled from above me.

I swallowed and looked up. Broad shoulders, brown skin, and serious dark eyes. He was handsome with a hint of scary going by the harsh set of his jaws, but he wasn't Willem. I licked my lips. "You are?"

"Your driver. Willem sent me."

"I'm sure he did. Do you have a name, driver?" I wrapped up the rest of my burger and used several tissues to clean the sauce dripping down my fingers.

"Omar, and please, finish your meal." He sat across from me, his tall figure dwarfing the chair. "We have all the time in the world."

"That seems to be the motto with you people." I shoved some fries in my mouth. I had no intention of finishing the burger. It was too damn big.

Dark eyebrows lifted. "You people?"

"Yes, you and that man called Willem de Vries. Why isn't he here? His letter said he would be."