Chapter 32 - Rattled nerves and not so delicious food

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As I sweep my hair up into a smooth bun on the top of my head, I can’t help but notice a fluttering in my stomach building as the minutes pass. My stomach has been so up and down today. I pause, assessing myself in the mirror and see that my face is paler than usual, except for a blush in my cheeks.

“You’re being silly. There’s no need to be nervous,” I mutter to myself, brushing some bronzer onto my face to bring some color to it. At first I couldn’t place my nervousness, but now that I’m nearing being ready, I realize what it is. His staring off into the distance and strange behavior means something, and the thought of what it could be makes me scared and excited all at once. He won’t propose. Look what happened last time. He asked me in the back of a car after my life was threatened. Even then, he wasn’t even going to ask properly. I’m not sure if he knows how to make a proposal romantic when he believes I belong to him in the first place.

I brush some mascara onto my lashes and I sigh at my reflection. I will have to do I suppose, I think as I walk over to my suitcase again to find something suitable to wear. I flip open the top and push clothes aside, which I’m seeing aren’t very fancy at all. I was sure I put a couple dresses in here. Sure enough, after some searching, I pull out a black maxi dress and a sleek silver belt that cinches in my waist nicely. Paired with some wedges, I look quite presentable and I feel ready to take on anything.

I slip out of the bedroom to go find Damien, who is standing in the entrance way dressed in a white flannel shirt and khakis. His hair is tousled and makes me want to run my fingers through it and kiss him all day. He grins at me and drinks in my appearance as I do the same to him. He pulls a pair of aviators off the top of his shirt and slides them onto his face before reaching his hand out for me.

“You look beautiful as always Miss Strand,” he whispers, pulling me close and planting a kiss on my lips.

“Oh I didn’t know it was that kind of formal evening Mr. Hunt.” I give him a small bow and smile up at his amused expression. He shakes his head and pulls my hand to put it in the crook of his elbow.

“It isn’t, but I just enjoy calling you that. I should request you call me Mr. Hunt more often as well. Also, when you bow like that, I can see straight down the top of your dress.”

I turn to him and punch his arm with a laugh.

“You’re terrible. Let’s go!”

I roll my eyes to see a limousine outside for us. Even so far from home he doesn’t cease his life of luxury and skills of showing off. I watch him open the door for me however, and he gestures for me to get in, which I do with another laugh. I could get used to this!

“Why are you laughing?” He slides inside next to me and wraps an arm around me instantly, pulling me snug against his side. I lean my head on his chest and breathe in the wonderful scent of his cologne, which reminds me of the ocean.

“No one to open doors for the both of us anymore, so now you have to do it, at least until we’re home,” I reply.

“I could have had someone do it, but I enjoy doing things for you and feeling needed.”

I glance up at him and see deep lines on his face from his frown.

“You are needed!” I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze him tight. “And if I could, I would get rid of everyone and have no one do anything for us. I would keep you for myself and have it as just us two forever.”

He stills and I look as his face, which has paled. The hand that rests on my leg has become cold and clammy.

“Y-yes, that sounds nice,” he says quietly, avoiding my gaze and looking out of the window, essentially blocking me out. I let go of him and sit back, feeling rejected and confused. What did I say wrong?

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