MARRIED ACCIDENTALLY

CHAPTER 44

Vince’s POV

Ann is sitting up in bed for the first time in days. Her head is lowered, and her fingers rub slightly on her forehead as if she has a headache.

“Are you okay?” I ask her, and she looks up instantly to meet my gaze.

I guess she didn't know when I entered. She must be lost in thought.

She nods quietly, and I take a seat opposite the bed, thinking of the best way to start a conversation after everything has happened.

“I'm sorry, Ann,” I find myself apologizing. She glance up again, looking puzzled with my apology. “I'm sorry I disappointed you. I'm sorry I couldn't do what you asked of me. I'm so sorry…”

“Because Isaac shot her, you want to take the blame for it?” She questions me with disbelief. “You are not Isaac. I should be thanking you instead for letting me see her, even though it was brief, and for taking care of the funeral and everything else. I just couldn't bring myself to do all of those.”

She lowers her head further, making me wonder if she is crying again.

It feels awkward as I stand up and move closer to comfort her.
I don't do that. I don't comfort people. Not even my mom.

But I guess there are many strange things I have been doing since I met Ann.

I slouch beside her on the bed before wrapping my hands around her shoulder. She allows me to hug her as she sniffles.

“I'm so sorry, Vince. I'm so sorry for shutting you out. I'm so sorry for taking my anger out on you. I'm sorry for acting like an ingrate when I should be super grateful to you.”

Silence follows.

After a moment of hesitation, I confess. “I couldn't help but blame myself. Perhaps, if I was fast enough to get her to the car with you, maybe he wouldn't have gotten the opportunity to shoot her.”

She disengages from the hug with a shake of the head. “No, Vince. If you did that, maybe he would have done something worse. Apparently, he took only her out. He didn't go for you or me but only her. Don't blame yourself, please.”
That was true.

Isaac didn't shoot Ann, even when I had apprehension shooting through my veins that he would when she rushed out of the car.

Instead, there was a satisfactory smirk on his face after realizing he had achieved his aim of leaving the woman lifeless.

Before we could get to the hospital, she passed on.

Ann’s two hands cup my face, jerking me back to life and sending a thrill up my spine.

“I'm so grateful to you, Vince.” she sobs. “Thank you.”

I close my eyes, feeling the touch of her hands go round my waist, bringing me closer than ever before.

I can practically feel the beat of her heart, and so can she.

I hold her tight, my eyes still shut, as I finally admit to myself.

I like her.

I like Ann.

No woman has ever made me feel this way. For the first time in my life, I am allowing a woman in my heart.

In my life.

In my space.

In every aspect of my life.

Her grieving made me understand just how important she means to me.

I have not been myself. I feel sad and angry for no reason. And that is solely because she wasn't talking to me.

Now that she has not only spoken to me but also touched me with affection, the realization hits deep.

I'm falling for Ann, knowing there is no going back.

Kyra was right.  Even if she wasn't, her assumption that I was in love with Ann must have forced my heart toward loving her.

Perhaps I had been attracted to Ann right from the first day when I saw her on the cold floor in the bathroom of that cheap downtown hotel.

Where she was crying silently.

Where she was almost molested.

My heart tugged with sympathy, and when she flashed her eyes open to meet my gaze, I fell for her.

Her eyes were so brown that they bore into mine. She was so vulnerable I wanted to protect her with everything I had. I wanted to kill everyone who made her sad, just the way I killed Carter.

I should have known.

That wedding, too, wasn't forced. I knew what I was getting into, and I allowed it simply because I was attracted to her.

Everything has been so different with Ann—every damn thing.

“Vince?” Her breath fans my entire face, making me blink severally. “Are you okay?”

I lost it as I claim her lips. I spilled every single detail of how I feel, what I feel for her, and what I hope will be the end of us.

I want to tell her how much I have missed her. I have missed her laughter and the twinkle in her eyes whenever she teases me. I have missed hearing her speak, trying to start a conversation with me, or getting on my nerves.

I missed how she unintentionally makes me jealous and possessive, how she makes my heart jolt forward with thumping, and how she calls my name.

Vince.

Most people call me Vicente, but with Ann, she calls me Vince more than anyone else.

That name sounds like music to my ears. The way it usually rolls off her lips makes it look so simple.

Heat rushes to my below as she kisses me back with the same vigor until I am straddling her, the desire to take her kicking in and taking over my self-control.

“Vince?”

“Shit!” I mutter beneath my breath. The more she whispers my name, the more turned on I am.

“Vince?”

I continue to kiss her without a care in the world until my lips taste something salty.

I stop, my eyes flutter open, and I watch tears roll down her face continuously.

Her eyes are firmly closed, but when she finally opens them, I feel the raw pain and the unspoken emotions in there.

Without knowing where the courage is coming from, I peck her forehead and engulf her in a tight embrace as she breaks down completely in my arms.