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MEREDITH

“Ido.”

That was it. Two little words, then we were married.

No flowers. No rings. No personal vows.

Just a whispered I do from the both of us.

How could two little words have such importance in a person’s life?

I sat across from Josef in the dining room of our hotel suite not paying attention to anything I was eating.

It was delicious. I’m sure it was. I just didn’t taste it.

How could I?

I was a wife now. The reality of it sat squarely on my chest, suffocating me with its irrefutable truth.

I am Josef’s wife.

Years ago, this was exactly what I wanted. To belong to this big, brooding man.

But I didn’t know this Josef.

Over one day, he’d shown me a dozen different sides to him.

He was quiet, demanding, bossy, ruthless, and yet he’d been tender and kind. His behavior contradicted his words, and I felt lost.

I was his wife.

But I was not loved. Not cherished. Not half of the things our vows claimed.

“What is it? Is something wrong with your meal?” Josef asked, and I realized I’d frozen with my fork halfway to my lips.

“No. Um, it’s fine,” I whispered, taking the piece of perfectly cooked salmon between my lips.

“Good.”

The rest of the meal was finished in silence, and servers came to take everything away while dropping off a dessert cart with coffee and the makings for cocktails.

“Would you like me to pour?” Josef asked after dismissing the staff and his men.

“Yes, please,” I said.

He prepared a cup of coffee for me, lifting the bottle of Whiskey Neat in silent question.

I nodded.

I could use a little liquid courage for what was going to happen next. I accepted the cup, took a sip, and closed my eyes as I felt the whiskey spiked coffee burn as it slid down my throat.

The scent of his spicy cologne hit my nostrils a second before I felt him draw near.

I couldn’t breathe.

Was it going to happen now?

How could I explain to him that I’d never done it with anyone else? What kind of pathetic woman did that, anyway?