Twenty-nine

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The wedding breakfast was absolute perdition. All she could think about what was next. She didn't trust Holden at all anymore. He was a crooked, loutish, black-hearted man. She was sure he'd want to have his way with her once he got her alone. And here they were.

Amelia Rose hoped everyone would stay after the wedding breakfast and drink with them long into the night. She prayed that Mayor Zephram and Mrs. Holden would stay and talk with her for a while, but they left after breakfast. Much to her worst nightmare, she was alone with Holden.

Her wedding dress was tight around her torso. It had been hours of shallow breathing. She'd never get this goddamn thing off by herself.

Mr. Holden came back into the room. He sat down close to her on the couch. "Mrs. Holden," he smiled. "How do you like your new home?"

Mrs. Holden—she was Mrs. Holden. She had to wake up, this couldn't be happening. It was an odd name—Amelia Rose Holden. It didn't have that pretty lilt to it. It was so unromantic. So uncolorful.

"It is beautiful," she placed her hands on her lap. "I shall like it very much, indeed."

"I was worried you'd still find yourself angry with me." He rang out his hands. "I know that it has been difficult, but we are well-suited for each other." Amelia Rose looked at him in disbelief. The most painful part of that statement was the amount of delusion it would take to say.

She didn't dare look at him, not even when he reached out and ran his finger around a long strand of her hair. He pressed his finger against her jawline and turned her head. After realizing that he was not giving up, she conceded defeat.

"Listen," he said. "I know I'm not your first choice, but I'm not your last either."

"How romantic, Mr. Holden. How I shall always cherish you, my beloved husband, as not quite my last choice."

"Hush." Caressing the side of her face, he pulled her towards him. There was a bitter tang to his kiss. Repulsion stampeded through her immediately. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away, but he didn't need prompting. He had nearly moved across the couch already.

He wiped his mouth with his handkerchief. His scrunched eyes only hinted at the disgust he felt as well. After examining the handkerchief, he folded it back up. "You aren't very good at that." He coughed.

"I'm not good at it? You're terrible!"

Holden shook his head. "Impossible."

Amelia Rose glanced at him. He had been bouncing his knee nonstop since they sat down. She wanted to reach out and settle him down. "Do you remember sharing the school house with me?"

"Did we?"

"You were so quiet back then. I just wonder what changed? How did that shy kid that used to hide in the corner become such a successful politician?"

He sighed, turning himself from her. "What? Don't think people are capable of change?"

Amelia Rose shrugged. "I want to, but sometimes it's hard to believe."

He ignored her and stared stoically at the coffee table.

"I just thought maybe—"

"You want to hear my sad story?" He asked. "Why? You want to try and fix me?"

"No. Heavens, no. I believe you to be a lost cause."

Holden made a noise back in his throat, something like amusement and satisfaction all rolled into one. He got up and walked across the room to browse through a cigar box.

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