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Atticus took our bags and walked into the house ahead of me, checking everything and then double-checking. He dropped the bags right by the entrance then tested to be sure both of our fingerprints worked. He nodded and asked, "You feel okay?"
"Yeah, I guess. But what are we supposed to do here for the next several days?"
"Well, some would probably suggest enjoying our honeymoon."
I frowned at him. "It's not like it's a real one."
He looked disappointed. "Good point. Still, though."
Why did the guilt prickle at me? I had a right to my anger and hurt, but not to be cruel. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be.” His voice was soft as he added, “I deserve that."
He might have deserved it, but it still didn't feel good to say it.
"So, four days. Just you and me,” he said. "Do you think you can stand to be with me that long?"
"I'll figure it out. So, what was all that with your mom? She seems so much better than when we saw her a few months ago."
Cocking his head, he added a measured, "Yeah, she's different."
"I noticed."
He led the way down toward the bedrooms. He dragged my load of cases into the largest room and dropped it.
I stared at the bed nervously, and he noticed my gaze.
"Relax. I'm going to stay in the other room."
Relief flooded my veins, followed by something that vaguely resembled disappointment. "Oh, okay."
He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "The other day, I pushed too hard too quickly. I get it. So I'm giving you breathing room."
"I appreciate that."
"Not too much though. What I said still stands. I intend to earn your trust again. I meant the vows I spoke today, Gwen."
Tears threatened to prick my eyes, but I refused to give in to the emotions of the day. "Atticus?—"
"I told you I would cherish and protect you. I meant it."
Swallowing nervously, I whispered, "I believe you on the protect part."
"I'll take it."
After we dropped off my bags, he led me through the rest of the house through the open living area. It was welcoming and warm and colorful. In the center of the sunken living room was a picnic, complete with champagne and rose petals and chocolate covered roses.
Heavy on the romance.
“Well looks like no one got the memo about the not so real wedding.”
He didn’t even seem phased and sat amongst the scattered pillows. “It would be a shame to waste it.” He reached a hand out to me. I considered not taking it. If I sat down near him and had a glass of champagne, I might get caught up again like with that kiss at the altar. “I don’t think?—”
When he spoke, his voice was two octaves deeper. “Sit down and let me feed you.”
I sat. What else was I supposed to do?
He opened the picnic basket and started unpacking an assortment of meats and cheeses and fruit and bread. Atticus made quick work of the champagne, uncorking it before he handed it to me to pour and made me a plate.
