Chapter Eleven
The Honeymooners
I SLEPT NEARLY THE ENTIRE flight out to wherever we were heading. I would have slept the two hours it took to get us to the airport if I weren't so wired from the events of the night. Although I asked about a million times, Matthew wasn't giving me any hints where we were spending our dreaded honeymoon. I would have sat staring out the window of Matthew's plane—a plane we had to take specially for its sunlight-proof windows, otherwise I'd be widowed instantly—but I realized I wouldn't have the slightest clue where we were anyway. I haven't done much traveling outside of Chicago, especially in a plane.
The flight itself was around six hours, though it could have been shorter or longer because I spent the whole time drooling on my leather seat. When we had landed and pulled into some large warehouse, we were instantly ushered into a simple black car with equally black windows like we were about to be assassinated or something. Matthew drove, to my surprise, and not a speck of sunlight penetrated the tinted windows. The car made it appear to be nighttime, which I was accustomed to by now.
"Where the hell are we?" I questioned, mystified by amount of trees around us.
"Anchorage, Alaska, where the days are shorter and the nights longer. We're not staying here though. We have a bit more driving to do."
Alaska? This took me entirely by surprise, mainly because I thought Matthew would take us somewhere huge and cliché like France or Italy. But Alaska? Wasn't it all ice or something? Where were the polar bears?
We drove for well over two hours before veering off onto some gravel road I was certain would be the last road I'd ever see. Trees upon trees blurred past us as Matthew sped up the curvy road. The sun began to disappear behind one of the hills, seeming to make Matthew become a bit more chipper than before when he was mostly quiet. We talked most of the car ride about random things he'd ask me or I'd ask him. At one point he'd asked me whether I had left Chicago before I had met him, which led to a long story about the time I met a biker and traveled just outside of Illinois before quickly finding a way back when the guy pulled a knife on me. After several awkward minutes of Matthew shaking his head, I asked him why he'd choose Chicago to live in, of all places. Though I have asked him this before, I was still perplexed over it.
"Chicago has one of the highest crime rates in America," he answered with a wave of a hand. "Vampires are often drawn to places with high crime rates because it makes for an easy meal; no one is surprised when someone comes up missing. I've lived in other cities with higher crime rates, but I've had to move several times before people suspect something about me."
"You moved to Chicago for an easy meal?" My tone was flat and entirely judgmental.
His eyes met mine for a second before returning to the road. "No. I moved to Chicago because it's a magnet for other vampires. I have to maintain order, so when I find a vampire has wreaked havoc, I must handle the situation. Besides, I spend most of my time traveling. Chicago is simply my main location until I'm forced to move once more."
I thought about his answer, almost surprised he said he handles out-of-control vampires. I knew he had some sort of job managing people, but I've never asked for details. "You've always been home as long as I've known you. Well, except for the two or three months you had left."
Over a year ago, back when I was happily with David, Matthew had left for nearly three months on what I was told was a business trip. Before leaving, Matthew had slipped something into my drink to make me have dreams about him while he was away. I think he was hoping I'd develop feelings for him, but the most it had done was question my sanity. Several months ago Matthew admitted he had left in hopes of getting over me, though apparently absence made the heart grow fonder because he returned with a pair of diamond earrings for me, claiming he hated my cheap jewelry and gave it as an employee appreciation thing. Admittedly, I sold those earrings a few months ago for some extra cash.
"Hmm, I wonder why I haven't left Chicago much since January 4th of 2009? What could the reason be?" His tone oozed with sarcasm, almost as if he were annoyed over it.
Like an idiot, I had no idea what he was talking about. "What happened? New Year's resolution or something?"
His eyes narrowed at me briefly and he shook his head in disappointment. "You honestly don't remember?"
January 4th of 2009? I had a lot of things happening at the time—
"You kidnapped me that night!" I exclaimed as if this was something I had just found out about.
His lips twitched, even though this was a kidnapping we were talking about. "Yes, it was the first day we met. Lovely for you to remember."
"I'm sorry, I was a little bruised and kidnapped then."
"Back to our original discussion," he loudly interrupted. "I haven't done much traveling since."
"...Since you met me? Couldn't miss a night without seeing this beautiful face?" I sarcastically remarked, drawing a circle in the air with my finger around my face. I wanted to lighten the heavy emotions in the car.
He smirked, tapping his fingers along the steering wheel as he once again shook his head. "You're ridiculous. As I believe I have hinted to before, your beauty wasn't what lured me in."
I scoffed, smacking his shoulder with the back of my hand. "Wow, thanks. Just what a girl wants to hear."
His smirk widened and I could tell he was trying his hardest not to laugh. I knew he had only said it to get a reaction to me; after all, my reactions and hardheaded personality were what had "lured" him in. "You're beautiful, Anna. Like a Goddess." He reached blindly towards me and stroked my head like one would pet a cat.
"You're lucky the sun went down, buddy. I'd have thrown open my door and your window and let your ashes blow out the window."
He nearly wrecked the car because his laughter made him lose control. It was strange to see him so, well, light-hearted and carefree. I was used to seeing him sit with a drink in one hand and a book in the other, only speaking about manners and giving an occasional witty stab at me. But instead here he was, laughing freely and hasn't once let the smile leave his face. He seemed so relaxed being away from everyone.
"Here we are," Matthew announced, not noticing my eyes scanning him suspiciously.
Although it was dark now, I could see the house because of the glow of the lights in the landscaping. To my surprise, the house wasn't this golden mansion as I had suspected Matthew would take me to, but instead a stone cottage. It was two stories tall, with wide windows and dark shutters. Growing over the stone cottage was moss and even ivy, nearly camouflaging the house. There were different shaped flat stones leading up to the stone steps of the front door. The front door stood out because it was twice the size of a normal front door and made of a heavy and dark wood with black iron hinges and a matching doorknob. There wasn't much landscaping because leaves and moss covered most of the ground, but there were a few bushes nestled against the cottage where the lights hid under.
Matthew parked the car under a small wooden shelter about twenty feet from the cottage. I climbed out, my legs a bit wobbly from all of the travel, and looked at the place from where I stood in awe. Matthew began pulling luggage out while I lazily leaned against the car and wrapped my arms around my body for warmth. Definitely cooler than Chicago.
I grabbed one of the bags and began to head towards the cottage, my boots crunching on the leaves with every step. I was thankful I was given a pair of jeans, a simple black t-shirt, and a red peacoat instead of the dresses I've been wearing. I had to change on the plane so I wouldn't have to spend the whole flight in a tight and slightly itchy wedding dress. Matthew had also changed on the plane into something not suit-like. Currently he was dressed in a simple black pair of pants, a long-sleeved white button up, and a double breasted black peacoat. I didn't get to actually see his outfit until now, mostly because I was drowsy getting out of the plane. Although I'd never tell him, I liked the more casual look.
When we got to the front door my bag was practically snatched from my hand. I turned around to protest, just in time to have my feet leave the ground and my life flash before my eyes. Matthew held me in a bridal style fashion while managing to get the door open.
"What're you doing? Let me down," I protested, waving an angry fist in the air.
"It's our honeymoon, meaning the groom carries his bride over the threshold. It's tradition."
"We're not a traditional couple. Set me down."
He stepped into the house, still holding me tight against his chest. "Here we are," he announced, flicking on a light while somehow not dropping me.
Instantly the room glowed to life, revealing a room that could have been in a magazine. It was a wide-open living room with the entire back wall being glass with thick, dark curtains on either side. The flooring was a rustic hardwood that looked like each board came from a different type of wood. On the right side of the room, making the greatest impression, was a stone fireplace with about a six or eight foot opening. A dark leather couch, similar to the one now in my house, sat in front of with bright red loveseat and a rocking chair sat on either side. In front of the couch was a coffee table made from a huge tree stump, and it even had the curves of the roots still on it. A huge cream rug sat underneath all of the furniture, with several pillows and cushions by the fireplace.
On the left of the room were a set of stairs with a small hallway beside it along with a doorway leading to what I could guess would be the kitchen. The entire place was decorated to the T in rustic and woodsy décor from antlers to greenery. Even the chandelier, hanging from the exposed wooden beams, was made of twisted roots.
"You must be impressed to be so quiet," Matthew commented.
"It's...not bad," I mumbled, taking my eyes off the incredible room to look at him.
Cool lips touched mine, nearly causing me to fall out of his arms. I reached out and placed my hand on his face to push him back a little in order to ask to be let down. But I didn't. Maybe it was the Alaskan air or the traveling, still I allowed the kiss. I might not have felt the amount of passion Matthew was feeling, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little dazed when he pulled away.
Matthew was a little tense after breaking the kiss and seemed almost jittery. Gently, he sat me on my feet and took an awkward step back. "I'm going to go get the luggage...and maybe take a walk. There's food in the refrigerator, and the bedroom and bathroom are upstairs if you want to take a shower or anything."
When Matthew left I immediately made my way towards the kitchen, curious what food might be in there. The kitchen, though small, was just as amazing as the rest of the house, with white cabinets and glass cabinet doors. The appliances were older, most likely ten or so years old, but they were in perfect shape. I opened the fridge doors and was pleasantly surprised by some of the food. Nearly all of it were in individual foil containers, ready to cook in an oven. There were a few bags of salad, chopped veggies, and sliced fruit, though I most likely won't touch any of that. I reached for the bag of string cheese. Since the kitchen didn't have a table, I pulled myself up onto the white marble counter and let my feet dangle.
Matthew still hadn't returned from his walk by the time I had finished snacking. I decided to tour the place a bit more while I waited. I took the stairs and ended up in a sort of loft area with a few cushions next to an iron railing, overlooking the downstairs. Down the hall were two guest bedrooms and a bathroom between them as well as two French doors I knew would lead to the master bedroom.
The master bedroom was stunning, and I have never been one to be in awe of décor before.
The back wall was made of the same stone as the outside with three tall windows. The flooring was the same as downstairs, only there was a brown fur rug underneath the king sized bed covering part of the floor. Speaking of the bed, it was done entirely in white, including the comforter about as thick as a mattress. I wanted to jump on it because it looked like a cloud and I was having a childish moment. The bedroom also had a fireplace, though it had a crisp, white mantle with greenery and tiny pieces of décor on the shelf. There were antique pieces of furniture, one of them being a wooden coatrack in the corner. I really did love the room for its simple and clean layout yet edgy feel to it because of the stones and exposed beams.
The bathroom door caught my eye because it was basically a frosted glass door. I tested how frosted by trying to see my hand through it and immediately reminded myself to not stand too close to the door when in the nude.
Stepping into the bathroom I instantly noticed the large clawfoot bathtub with a white shower curtain wrapped around it. The bathroom itself was like stepping into another era. The walls were done in white subway tiles while the flooring were tiny octagon black and white tiles. It was simple and clean.
After leaving the bathroom I made my way back downstairs to see if there were other places to explore. As I stepped down the final steps I realized Matthew was back. He was crouched in front of the fireplace, poking at the new fire with a piece of iron. I watched from the stairs, curious what he was thinking. Although I knew he told me he wouldn't pressure me during our honeymoon, but a part of me wondered whether he actually meant it.
"How long do you plan on standing there staring at my back?" Matthew uttered without even turning around.
"That's creepy, you know." I hopped off the stairs and strolled towards him with a frown.
He gave me a glance before looking back at the fire. "And staring at someone from behind isn't?"
I didn't have a reply for that one, so I changed the subject instead. "Is there a television around here?"
"No. I'm not one for watching one. I believe there are books in one of the bedrooms, if you're looking for something to do right now."
My bitter expression showed how much I didn't want to read. "I'm not much of a reader."
Matthew tilted his head and gave me a soft expression instead of a mocking one. "Would you like to take a walk with me?"
A walk? My legs were stiff from having been cramped up in a seat for several hours. If I could, I'd go running to run the nerves out of me. But Matthew wanted us to walk together, and I could tell he really wanted me to go with him. "Sure."
He smiled and stood up straight until we were facing each other. His hand hovered in the air for a few seconds a few inches from my face, almost as if he were hesitant to touch me. Slowly, like he might spook me, he ran his fingertips down my cheek and to my jaw until they curved up and brushed over my lips. He seemed mesmerized for a moment as his fingertips brushed a few hairs from my face before returning to my cheek.
After Matthew broke out of whatever trance he seemed to be in, we awkwardly headed out of the house and onto a dark trail I could barely see. We mostly walked in silence, with me occasionally stumbling when I couldn't see where I was walking. The moonlight wasn't shining through the trees enough to provide me light, making me wish I had a flashlight or night vision like Matthew. We must have walked for about fifteen minutes or so without speaking before the awkward mood shifted.
"We're about to head into a rocky section by a river," Matthew murmured.
Before I could make any comment about it, icy fingers slid in between mine, locking our hands firmly together. I didn't protest, mostly because I knew it'd lead to one of us (me) storming off. I was actually thankful to holding his hand as soon as we got near some slick rocks. Not once did Matthew let me slip.
The silence was growing more awkward the further we walked. I wasn't sure why Matthew was being so quiet and reserved, especially after he was so chipper in the car. He kept his eyes forward, only glancing at me when we were near some rough ground. I finally had it with the quietness.
"Do you own the cottage?" I blurted, desperate for some sort of noise other than the crunch of leaves beneath our feet.
He gave me a glance, almost seeming surprised by my question. "Yes. I had it built back in the early twentieth century, though it has been remodeled a few times since then."
"Why a cottage here?" I questioned in hopes of keeping the conversation going.
"I've owned the property, along with about two hundred acres, for over two centuries now. I have another house here, though I use it for more of a gathering place."
I nodded, trying to pretend it was totally normal to have two hundred acres for two centuries as well as a second house here. "How many houses do you own?"
He pursed his lips in deep thought. "I honestly have no idea. I own about a house per-state as well as many in Europe. But I often have people staying in them because they're all built for our kind; sunlight-proof windows, mostly in a hidden area, somewhat of a blood supply." His eyes met mine at the last part, carefully examining my reaction.
I had almost forgotten Matthew drank blood. It was a really stupid thing to forget considering I seemed to remember everything else. Matthew hasn't been, for the most part, drinking blood in front of me. It was a relief to me because I knew I'd be gagging if I saw him drink it. It then hit me he no longer had a supply of humans to survive on as he had in Chicago. "Um, Matthew?"
He came to a stop, almost startled by my tone. "Yes?"
How was I going to ask him? I certainly wasn't becoming a daily meal for him! "How long can you go without blood before it starts to affect you?"
Matthew's eyes were slightly wide, surprised by my question. "Why?"
"Well, you didn't exactly bring someone to keep you from..." I faded off, not wanting to say, "From eating me."
I didn't have to say it. Matthew's eyes narrowed at me almost accusingly. "Do you think I plan to use you as a juice box?"
Yes. "I don't know your plans!" I exclaimed, breaking our connected hands to throw mine in the air dramatically.
He sighed, but not out of frustration. His head shook lightly and his expression softened. "I'd never even take a drop of your blood against your will. Ever. I'd never bite you."
Surprisingly, I believed him. I didn't question this, even though I had a million different ways to argue it. Deep down, I knew Matthew wouldn't hurt me. I may hate Matthew for everything he has done to me in the past and for what he is, but one thing I knew was I was safe with him. He proved that when he saved me from Grey Eyes, the vampire I was supposed to assassinate but instead was killed by. Even after I've physically and emotionally attacked him, Matthew has never raised a hand to me as I've had done to me by guys before. Every time I've been in trouble, Matthew has been there. There was no questioning if Matthew might hurt me this during our time here because I knew he wouldn't. "I think I believe it," I admitted.
Matthew gave me a serious look, holding my eyes with his. "I swear it, Anna. As long as you're with me, nothing will hurt you," he vowed with a hand over his still heart.
It's no secret I've been with a lot of men in my time, and amongst those men I've had a handful of relationships. Not a single one of them did I feel as safe as I felt at this moment. My relationship with David, an amazing man with the kindest heart I've ever known, never brought me this feeling of safety or security. During my short time with him I was constantly stressed over whether he'd abandon me, kick me out of his home, or maybe he'd find out the things I've done and find me this repulsive and worthless being. David never knew me entirely because I never let him. Matthew wouldn't have known about the true Joanna if it weren't for his digging into my past, and even then he didn't find me disgusting because he also has skeletons in his own closet. Although I didn't trust Matthew, I just knew I'd be safe. Maybe not the most sane or happy, but I'd at least be safe.
I wasn't sure how to respond to his passionate promise. I'm not one for fancy speeches or emotional words. I knew that's what he wanted from me, and I couldn't give him it. Anyone would be able to tell, just by looking into his eyes, Matthew was wanting some kind of loving or caring words said to him. After all, I've been scoffing at his feelings towards me for months now. He was so vulnerable, and part of me enjoyed it because I could still feel the fury and pain I've had in me since David's death. Although I couldn't return the feelings or give him a single promise, I just couldn't bring myself to turn my back on him and keep walking. I wasn't sure why I couldn't do my usual witty comeback and stride away. As much as I deeply hated to admit it, his promise affected me somehow.
"We should probably keep moving," I muttered, running my fingers through my hair nervously.
Matthew hid his disappointment well. A touching moment went straight into the gutter. Once more, I've brushed his loving words off my shoulder. "Of course," he replied, turning to look at the path with his back to me.
I wasn't sure what had possessed my body at that moment, or maybe I had a stroke and lost control of myself, but I didn't just keep walking as I thought I would. Instead I stepped forward and gently intertwined our fingers as he had done earlier. This might have been seen as a simple and small thing to do, but it wasn't. The fact I had been the one to do something at least a little caringly without being careless or forced to was monumental, and it terrified me for a brief second to the point of me nearly dropping his hand and heading back to the cottage.
Matthew's lips pulled up to the side. "I want to show you something."
I was relieved he was done with the emotional talk. "Okay."
We walked for another ten or so minutes before reaching what appeared to be a large pond. There was an old bridge reaching over the pond and to the other side. Matthew towards it and helped me onto the creaky platform. When we were only halfway to the other side Matthew stopped and laid flat on his back, pulling me down to lay next to him. The bridge wasn't the widest, making our shoulders press firmly together as we laid in the middle of it. Definitely not the most comfortable. But I realized why he brought me here.
The trees no longer covered the sky where we were, giving us full access to the night sky. For the first time in a long time I could see the stars. In Chicago, with all of the lights of the city, the stars practically are hidden. But out here, where all of the lights are miles away, I could see every single star and pattern.
"Wow," was all I could say.
"I like to look up at it every once in a while, especially when I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. I'll lye outside, no matter what part of the world I'm at, and look up at it. It brings me comfort to know, even when the world is constantly changing around me, I can always count on the sky looking the same."
I thought about what he had said and almost smiled at it. "Doesn't it scare you? To live so long you can no longer recognize the world?"
Matthew turned his head to look at me, his brows raised in amazement. "That's awfully deep."
I gave a shrug with a slight smile on my lips. "I can sometimes sound smart and deep."
His lips pulled into a warm smile before his eyes returned to the stars. "Sometimes it can get overwhelming. But I think it's better than dying and having the world move forward without me."
"Afraid of death?"
"Aren't we all?"
We both became silent, lost in our thoughts.
It wasn't until, nearly ten minutes later, Matthew broke the silence with something surprising. "I've lived many lives and many faces."
I stared at him, completely lost. Was he trying to tell me he could transform or something? "What?"
His eyes still focused on the stars. "I haven't always been Matthew Foster. I've been many men, many names."
My deer-in-the-headlights look was impossible to hide. "What does that mean? Your name isn't actually Matthew?"
"No," he replied, now looking at me with an almost saddened look. "I've had to change my identity so many times, I can no longer keep up with each life I've lived."
Although it seemed absolutely outrageous to hear or think about, I began to let it sink it.
"I quickly learned I couldn't be just one man my whole existence. Once, back in the late 1200's, I stayed in this one village for over twenty years. It was a lovely place full of things to quench my thirst. I didn't see anything wrong with staying in one place too long. But people began to realize something was seriously wrong with the pale man without the slightest sign of aging. I carried my original name with me everywhere I had gone at that point, leaving quite the trail. People soon realized I was much older than they could have imagined."
I rolled onto my side to pay closer attention to the story. "What happened?"
Matthew also rolled onto his side, now facing me entirely. "They tried to burn down my home with me inside. They thought they had burned me alive and killed the demon, but I had escaped into the woods. I quickly realized I couldn't leave any kind of trail. I've calculated it takes about fifteen years before people begin to suspect something. I then move onto a new name and a new life. It's rather frustrating to constantly have to think of a brand new life to not cause suspicion."
All of this was interesting to me, partly because I hadn't really thought of having to constantly be on the move to keep people from suspecting anything. How many lives has Matthew lived? "Who were you before now?"
To my surprise, Matthew actually began to grin. "I believe Matthew Foster has been the most impressive and complicated life I've created. I realized long ago the youngest I could pass for was twenty, at the very youngest. The oldest I can pass for is fifty, and even then people are suspicious. In the 1960's Matthew Foster the first was introduced as a twenty-year-old young man with a brand new, and quickly growing, company. I got to be Matthew Foster, a businessman with his name everywhere, even known to humans. He moved into a house in Chicago and built an empire with many connections."
"How did you just grow an empire?" I questioned.
"I've made a lot of money over my time on this earth, Anna. With each new life I am forced to somehow roll it all over into the new life without people seeing this extremely rich man appear out of nowhere. For Matthew Foster the first, I made it seem like it was excellent business skills. But, in reality, I managed to make it seem like investors and stocks made me rich. I basically invested money I've made over time in myself. It was a long and complicated process, but I managed to make no human question it."
My head was still spinning over his name not actually being Matthew.
"By the late 1970's I made it appear I had wed, though I only appeared in public with a woman once, making people believe the story. Soon I made people believe my wife died giving birth to a son, Matthew Foster II, thus eliminating the wife issue." He gave me a slight grin. "People were led to believe the son was sent off to boarding school. Matthew Foster the first died in the year 2000, and his spitting image of a son came to take control of the company a couple of years later. No one questioned it."
I was in awe of the complexity of this. "All of this for two identities? Why?"
"I needed connections, and more than just with vampires. I have managed to own hospitals, giving me plenty of access to blood and people who might have been attacked by my kind, which would mean I'd have to do something about it. I am also well-respected by the police because of all of my charitable donations and events so I'll have knowledge of any criminal activity. I can go anywhere and deal with anyone without suspicion because of my honorable and successful reputation. I control far more than just my world, Anna."
The hairs on my arms stood up at this, partly because I thought this much power was far too much for one person. He was practically playing God.
"I supposed, in a few decades, I'll have to start new elsewhere," Matthew murmured, no longer showing pride as he had before.
I rolled into a sitting position. "Why are you telling me all of this, Matthew? Or whatever your name is..."
Matthew also got into a sitting position, inches from me. "I'm telling you because you're my wife and I don't want many secrets between us. You once said something about me knowing everything about you and you knowing nothing about me."
I vaguely remembered saying something like that, though I believed I might have said it furiously. "So what's your real name?"
He shook his head and gave me a slight smile. "It's been so long, I believe I've forgotten it. I've had so many names in my time, I can't remember them all."
"What names have you had?"
He let out a small sigh, leaning his back against the railing of the bridge while his face was turned up at the stars. "I've been an Isaac, a Samuel, a Steven, a Maxwell, a Richard, a Paul, a James, and even a Peter."
My eyes widened at all of those names. Matthew as I've known him looked like nothing other than a Matthew. "Why did you choose Matthew Foster?"
"I like to choose old names that'll never go out of style. I chose the last name because the word itself means to promote the growth or development of something. I was growing Matthew Foster, so I thought it fitting."
We went into yet another lapse of silence as we stared up at the stars. I thought a lot about what all he had told me, including back when he told me his true age. I knew he was sharing a lot of himself for me, and it was strangely flattered to be the one to know his secrets.
"I like the name Matthew the most," I mentioned.
He turned his attention on me with an affectionate expression. "Of the many lives I've lived, my favorite is the one I'm living now. I don't believe I ever started living until 2008." Matthew's fingers began to intertwine with mine once more while his other hand covered over them. "I want you to know I am fully in this, Anna. Entirely. You are it for me."
I wanted to pull our hands apart, not wanting to hear this. It was too much, and I felt like I was suffocating. "Matthew..." I began, hoping he'd stop and go back to telling me stories.
"I know, I know. You're hating every second of this. But I have to say it because you have no idea what kind of hold you have on me. I honestly don't care how long I have to wait for you to feel remotely the same. As I have already mentioned, I've lived a lot of lives and have been through almost everything one can go through. I have patience, and I'll wait for you. I would be perfectly content if all we do is spend the next two weeks simply laying out here."
My body tensed, ready to run from all of this. I wanted to run away from being trapped in all of this. Knowing Matthew felt so strongly towards me made slowly begin to realize how tight of a hold he had on me. If he loves me as much as I believe he does, he'll never let me go, will he?
I got to my feet, fighting the urge to take off through the wood. He'd catch me, wouldn't he? He'd keep me trapped in hopes of me feeling the same towards him as he feels towards me. "I-I'm tired. I want to head back," I stated, my voice unstable.
Matthew rose to his feet, his expression solemn. "Okay. I'll lead us back to the cottage."
I knewI had just about crushed his loving and emotional speech any woman would have swoonedover. I knew the reason why he didn't say a single word to me for the rest of thenight was because I had hurt him. I also knew him being hurt by my words and actionskept me up nearly the entire day.
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Gotta say, totally loved writing such an emotional chapter. I wanted to write and post this chapter this weekend because Monday I'll be starting another semester of college and will most likely be busy. Does that mean I'll stop writing? Nope. Especially not when it's finally getting good. Totally looking forward to writing more Joanna and Matthew moments. <3
What was YOUR favorite part? What do you think Joanna is going through during all of this? Do you think much will change soon? What did you think of Matthew's great reveal of his past? What about him pouring his heart out? Let me know down below!
-Currie :)