"I want to love you again, but I don't know how. Maybe I'm not like the moon. The moon is pure, an incandescent light in the midst of bitter darkness.
I have never been that forgiving."
WARNING: This is Book Three. If you have not read "affluenza"...
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AN// y'all ain't ready
IT WAS HOUR ten on our drive to Salt Lake City, and driving my car into a ditch was an option I was still weighing the pros and cons to.
Roman and I hadn't spoken since lunch when we'd decided to make a quick pitstop to the nearest Chick-fil-a because I wanted waffle fries and he wanted to suss out whether or not they were really homophobic there. I pretended I didn't know him as he spoke to the cashier, emphasizing that he and I, his husband were on a trip to Utah for our honeymoon. I don't know which was more unbelievable—that we were newlyweds or that anyone in their right mind would ever want to honeymoon in Utah.
"So, what's the verdict?" I asked, sipping my sweet tea and leaning back against the restaurant's chair.
He huffed, grabbing one of my fries and stuffing it in his mouth. "He wishes us a happy marriage," he mutters angrily. "So, no. Not homophobic. I'm going to have to take it up with corporation."
"Hmm," I hummed, unsure of what else to say in response.
We hadn't spoken since.
I prided myself on being able to carry conversations well, despite my introverted tendencies, but every time I looked at him I had nothing to say. I was angry and I was guilty and I didn't want to think about me feeling either of those feelings, so I ignored them both. Just as well, I ignored him. It wasn't as if he made another effort to converse, either. So we carried on listening to trashy eighties music until it turned into ear-scorching pop and then finally, radio silence.
To make matters worse, a light snow had begun to fall. It wasn't anything major, less than three inches, really, but it managed to stick to the ground which was something my California-made car couldn't exactly withstand. Still, with us less than an hour away from Salt Lake, I wasn't too keen on stopping now.
Roman had yet to comment on the snow, but his brows had taken on a concerned etch. Though, I only really looked at him when I was sure his attention was diverted. Meaning that I only looked at him whenever I was positive he wasn't looking at me, which, unfortunately, was few and far between.
On my umpteenth time doing this, he catches me with a frown. "What?" he asks, eyes dark in annoyance.
"Nothing," I mutter, returning my eyes back to the road. "It's snowing."
"I can see that."
I smack my lips. "Outstanding."
He opens his mouth to respond when there's a screeching sound and suddenly, Sam is sliding on the road. "Oh my God!" I scream, shutting my eyes tightly.
"Open your eyes, Braylen! You're the driver!"
"I can't! We're gonna die!"
"We're not gonna die," Roman chastises, nudging my shoulder. "Look."
