The Artist's Wife (BWWM)

Chapter 3~ Marry

New York cab drivers were completely insane. You told them one thing and it was like they stuffed wads of gum into their ears when you were talking. I watched the retreating form of the yellow cab in slight irritation, he had dropped me off at the wrong street and had insisted I pay extra for him to drop me off at the right place.

Everyone seemed hell-bent on annoying me today from the sleazy technician sent to work on my failing cables to the deaf cabbie. People were acting really dumb today and it wasn't their fault though, my irritation all boiled down to one reason. It was my stupid car's fault. Still in the auto shop. Worthless piece of junk.

Yet you won't still sell it off.

I looked up to my destination, the tall skyscraper and sighed softly before I started my slow journey. The cab driver was a big fool as far as I was concerned.

Today was the day that I finally got to meet my soon-to-be husband and the prospect was hardly exciting. We were supposed to meet up at his Dad's office today to start the wedding plans.

We were getting married before the end of the year. Crazy, right? I didn't understand why they were rushing things but I was getting paid for this gig, so who was I to tell them that they were rushing. I signed the contract just last week and here I was, the next week going to meet the guy.

Insane.

My phone went off and without looking at the ID yet, I knew who it was. I was right. Daniel.

God, when would he finally take a hint?

I tried to break it off with him at his apartment a few days ago but then he kissed me and then one thing just led to another and I ended up spending the night with him. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to forget the memory of me sprawled naked on his bed moaning his name in sweet ecstasy as he drove himself into me. Stupid, stupid me. It must have given him the wrong impression again. I picked up the darn phone.

"Hey," he said, his voice a bit hoarse and unsure.

"What?" I barked, a bit too harshly into the phone. It wasn't his fault I was pissed off but a transfer of aggression felt like the right thing to do now.

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked, his voice laced with curiosity. He was honestly too nice for his own good, the guy was basically the perfect boyfriend. I just had issues. Major issues.

Yeah, you won't leave me alone. Did I need to get it tattooed on my forehead that I wasn't interested anymore?

"I'm just in a bad mood," I explained, reducing the harshness in my tone and calming a bit. No use overreacting anyways.

"You've been in this bad mood since our last date when...," he trailed off but I decided to complete his sentence for him. We both knew what was wrong, there was no use pretending.

"You told me you're in love with me."

"Does that bother you?"

Yeah, it did bother me. A lot. Firstly, I told him earlier on that I wasn't into emotional stuff and there was the fact that I was getting married in a few weeks. I was actually getting married, the thought still gave me the shivers.

"I don't know, I just need space now." I walked into a tacky looking coffee shop to escape the cool breeze, and maybe get myself a drink. I needed something to jog myself into action.

"Why don't you want to be with me?" His voice was soft as if trying to soothe me, pleading. "I love you so much and you know that, please."

That's a good question, in fact, God knows the number of guys that have asked the exact same question.