Paper Bride ✔️ (Book 4 - DP Series - COMPLETE)

14. Misdirected Affection

Seth doesn't speak to me the entire ride home. I know that this should have me worried because quiet always means trouble, but for some reason, I'm relieved. I wouldn't know what to say anyway. Just something about Seth deciding our future for us has me rattled to the point of self-destruction.

I remain frozen in my seat, not daring to glance anywhere other than the window. I fear that any movement will remind him that I'm in the car with him, and I wish to remain invisible for the time being. I'm not ready for a lecture. Not like he'd give me one anyway, but I'm not in the mood for tense conversation. While he might not come right out and say what the problem is, I'm still able to read some of the issues going on with him, and I'm not in the mood to feel humiliated. Just one glance from him, that's all it would take, and I would know that he was disappointed in me.

I hate feeling like a failure, and tonight I failed big time. This only means one thing: I'm going to have to do some major damage control. I've already caused enough problems in our marriage by doing nothing at all, and tonight I did everything but nothing.

Metaphorically speaking, this evening went something like this: I saw a turd and then purposely stepped in it. Every word that left my mouth tonight was like another poop-covered step, and all I did was trudge around spreading the nasty all over the place. My parents did not need to see that. Now there's crap everywhere and I have no idea how to clean it up. I'll actually be surprised if Seth doesn't throw the divorce papers in my face the second we step through the front doors.

I see our house approaching, and I've got my seatbelt off and my hand hovering over the door handle before Seth can even pull to a stop. I fish my keys from my pocket as I hurry up the path to the door. Without a backward glance, I unlock the door and slip through.

I hear Seth enter just moments after me, but it's what I don't hear that has me stopping in my pursuit of my room. The house is quiet. I don't hear his keys hit the dining room table. I don't hear him plop onto the couch. I don't hear the TV flick on. There's nothing but silence.

Turning slowly, I wonder if he ever really entered the house at all. Maybe I just thought I heard the door open and close again. I take a few steps until I'm out of the hall, and the moment I peer out into the entryway, my heart lurches.

He doesn't see me, and for that I'm grateful, but I can definitely see him. Unfortunately for Seth, I'm seeing a side that he probably never wished for me to see. It reminds me of the moment I spied him sitting in his car the night he couldn't sleep. He looks pained—physically ill, even. Something is wrong. Very wrong.

He's leaned up against the door, car keys dangling from limp fingers. His eyes are closed, but I can see the tension woven into the lines etched into his brows. He brings a hand up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. I hear him half sigh, half groan, and I'm struggling to figure out what has him so worked up. Did I say something to upset him tonight? I had been expecting irritation. Even I can admit that my behavior tonight was painfully annoying... but he doesn't look annoyed.

He looks... hurt.

Seeing him like this makes me hurt. I want to walk up to him and slide myself into that perfect space between his arm and his side—that space that was designed just for me. No other woman could mold to him as perfectly as I do. I have no doubt about that. We fit together like a nut on a bolt.

I want to ask him what's wrong, but I physically can't make the words leave my mouth. I know I'm being a coward, but I'm just not sure if I can handle the truth yet. I'm like a bad paint job and I can feel myself bubbling and cracking with the burdens of time. If Seth and I continue on like this, I know I'll eventually peel apart until there's nothing beautiful left.