Her Reluctant Husband by Erica Marselas (books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

and goes to cut a second piece for himself. “Try love. I haven’t had this in years.” He yanks his tie off and throws it to the floor and then pops the top two buttons of his shirt. I’m surprised he doesn’t undo the whole shirt after all the food he has eaten today. Where does he put it? He wraps his lips around the fork, groaning happily, and I try not to stare too long. His lips remind me of that kiss, and I can’t put myself there again.

"You’re going to have to work out twice as long now to work off that cake,” I tell him after he swallows down another bite.

“Worth it." He shrugs, licking the icing off the fork. Okay, I’m done now. I can’t watch him anymore.

I grab my plate and flip the lid on the large metal can, scraping my piece into the trash.

"Hey! You're wasting good cake," Alex protests like I committed some crime.

"I figured you wouldn't want to eat after me."

"I would for this cake.” He frowns and stabs his fork back into the cake. “This used to be your favorite too."

"It is, but I'm not that hungry."

His brow pinches together and he gathers a bit of cake on his fork. "More for me then." And then he shoves the bite into his mouth. Pig.

I don't say anything as I make myself busy washing my plate and then putting it on the drying rack.

Maybe we can invest in a dishwasher.

“You didn't eat anything at our little reception either,” he says breaking through the silence. “Maggie made everything you love and you didn’t touch a thing. Kind of rude if you ask me.”

“Too much excitement. She understood.”

He purses his lips, and I can see the wheels turning in his head, but thankfully he doesn’t say anything. I did feel awful because I know Maggie was trying to make sure I ate, and it was probably at Liz’s request that all of my favorite foods—BBQ ribs, potatoes, grits, and tacos were made—but I just couldn’t do it. It’s hard to eat when I’m stressed, and it’s bad enough my whole life is just one big stressor. My stomach turns into a giant knot and I can’t relax. Food loses all appeal and sometimes looking at it makes me sick. And with the events of today, and just having Alex around, there’s no way I’m going to eat a thing. Much less enjoy it. I find I can only eat when I’m alone, so I’ll more than likely sneak some leftovers when I awake in the middle of the night.

“Not that you care, but I’m going to head off.”

“Nope. See ya.” Alex salutes me with his fork, and I make my way upstairs, leaving him alone with his cake.

My fingers trace over Liz’s floral wallpaper and across the wooden bookshelves her father made by hand that are built into the walls. I only came in here to gather my clothes from earlier, but I don’t have the urge to leave, wanting to feel close to her. Her room still smells of butterscotch because she was addicted to those little hard candies and chews. She still has a little glass bowl on her nightstand filled with them, and open wrappers around it.

She’s still trapped in here, everywhere, along with many other ghosts of the past.

How do we move on when every corner has something that haunts us? Even something as simple as a picture or familiar smelling candles.

“What are you doing in here?" Alex growls from the threshold of Aunt Liz’s bedroom door. “Come to collect your dolls?” he smirks and eyes the porcelain dolls lined on the top shelf of the bookshelf. All twenty of them stare down at us with their big black eyes.

I shake my head. “Not yet.” Those things don’t scare me like they did when I was nine, but I don’t want them in my room. “I came in to get my clothes, but then I felt the need to be close to her tonight.” I run my hand across the collection of photo albums till I find the one I want. It’s a brown leatherback, slightly worn, and my favorite. I pull it out and take it with me to sit on the edge of her bed.

“I don’t think you should be in here.”

“Why?”

“It’s my house and I don’t want you in here.”

“Last I checked, it’s my house too. We just made it official a couple of hours ago, remember?”

His brow tightens, engaging his angry scowl. “Haven’t forgotten.”

“What are you going to do with this room, you think?” I ask as I flip open the album and stop on a picture of my dad, just outside this house.

“What are you talking about?” he growls.

“I was just thinking as I was looking around. You can’t tell me you’re going to keep it like this? I know you loved her. I did too, but I just don’t see you boarding up this room and closing it up forever.”

“Well, it’s definitely not going to be our room.”

“I didn’t think that. You keep making a big deal of how this is your house, so I was just curious.”

“I figured I had a year, especially since I have no idea what is going to happen at the end of the year.”

“I already told you I don’t want the house.”

“And I trust you none.”

I frown. “Imagine how I feel.”

“Me?” he asks offended.

“Let’s just drop it. No use in fighting, right? Now I’m going to look at this photo album and try to enjoy my wedding night.”

He pushes himself off the door frame and plops down beside me, making the bed bounce. His hot breath tickles the skin of my bare neck. I hate how him being so