Tears instantly well up in my eyes. I don’t stick around to hear what else he says. I can’t. I drop the box I’m holding and rush to the bathroom. I barely get the door closed before the tears start falling. My heart breaking into a million pieces.
Yes, I know our brief “marriage” was a sham, but Amos didn’t seem to think it was ridiculous at the time. He even mentioned several times how good his grandmother’s ring looked on me. Does he just not want to get married? Or does he just not want to marry me? If that’s the case and marrying me is ridiculous, why would he have me move in? Yeah, we haven’t said ‘I love you,’ yet, but the sentiment has been there in the way we make love. The way we touch. All the little things we do, the I love you is unspoken but there in dozens of ways.
He’s been showing me how he feels from the start. Did I completely read him wrong all these weeks? I thought I knew what he’s feeling… maybe I’ve been very mistaken.
Once I hear Torin leave, I emerge from the bathroom feeling wrung dry. Amos seems over the moon happy when he tugs me against his chest and kisses me. I hardly hold myself together but manage to return his kiss, if a little less enthusiastically than usual. He gives me a confused look when he pulls away as if he knows something is wrong but can’t put his finger on what.
“I need to go to the bakery. I completely forgot about a huge order that I need to get a jump start on,” I say, making up a loosely veiled excuse to leave.
“I can come help,” Amos offers with a happy smile.
I quickly shake my head. “No, I’ve got it.”
My words come out harsher than I meant them to. He looks hurt and confused by my rejection. Maybe I imagined the conversation with Torin because he’s not acting like a man who thinks this whole thing is ridiculous. But no, I know exactly what I heard. I also know that I need to be alone right now to work through my emotional rollercoaster.
The bakery is dark and quiet, exactly what I need to get my head on straight. There isn’t any order to prep for. I feel slightly guilty for the white lie, but then I remember Amos’ words, and the guilt disappears. He’s been lying to me by omission this whole time. I know two wrongs don’t make a right, but this is about self-preservation at this point.
I decide to go ahead and start baking for the day. I begin with bread. I could definitely use a little physical release in the form of kneading the heck out of some dough. By the time the bread is in the oven, I don’t feel any better. My heart is still raw, and my eyes burn from the hundreds of tears I’ve shed. I pull myself up on the counter and open the container of leftover cookies from yesterday and start eating.
Even though I know they are delicious, the cookies taste like cardboard in my mouth. It’s not fair. Heartache is supposed to make all food taste good. That’s why binge eating is a thing after breakups, right? Not that I would know. This is my first time experiencing this level of hurt.
At midnight my phone starts ringing. Of course it’s Amos. He’s probably calling to see when I’ll be home. Which brings on another wave of worry. I gave up my rental house when I agreed to move in with him. If things are over with Amos, where will I stay?
If we can’t work past whatever this is and I decide to move right back out, then I’m essentially homeless. That has tears welling up again, but this time I sniff them back. Crying isn’t helping anything. The real question is if he feels like marriage is ridiculous, can I live with him? Should I stay and hope he changes his mind?
I’ve always wanted marriage, babies, the whole happily ever after thing. Can I just put my hopes on him changing his mind in the future? Can I give up my dreams of forever for something that’s a for now?
No, I don’t think I can.
A few minutes later, my text alert dings. Without looking, I’m sure it’s Amos again. I’m still not ready to talk to him, so I ignore the dings and go back to baking.
Time to make cupcakes. Three hours later, I have six dozen cupcakes—way more than I’ll ever sell in one day. Oh well, this wasn’t about stocking my shelves. This is my therapy. Once again, I perch myself on the counter, only this time, I have a triple chocolate strawberry cream-filled cupcake—a new recipe born of sadness but tastes like happiness. I eat two cupcakes before I dare to look at my phone.
It’s almost two in the morning, and I have a ton of missed calls and texts from Amos. With the level of concern in his texts, I’m surprised he didn’t just show up here to see me with his own eyes. Apparently, he got the message that I want to be left alone even if he doesn’t understand why.
I read through the texts that start with his usual ‘lock the door’ and go through to ‘I miss you, sweetness. Our bed is cold without you.’ That last text came in ten minutes ago.
I’m flooded with feelings of guilt at making him worry. I hit reply and can’t think of anything to say.
I’m fine, is what I finally settle on. Lame.
Three dots start bouncing almost instantly. Are you sure, sweetness? You’ve never stayed out like this…
I let out a troubled sigh. This isn’t a conversation that should be done via text. It would make it so easy, but that’s a cop-out, and I know it. Yeah, everything is fine. I’m just going to stay and finish up today’s baking since it’s almost time for me to come in anyway.
Amos doesn’t respond. I don’t know why, but tears prick my eyes again at how easily he accepted my excuse. I ignore the pang in my chest and start making things that actually fill my cases for the day.
Fifteen minutes later, there is a knock on the backdoor. “Margo, open up,” Amos shouts through the heavy metal door.
I stand frozen, staring at the door as if it’s a cobra ready to strike.
11
Amos
It’s been hours, and Margo hasn’t answered her phone nor any of the dozens of text messages I’ve sent. It takes all of my self-control to not crash into the bakery like a madman. I do drive past twice just to make sure her car is there. I have to know she’s safe even if she’s not telling me herself.
Finally, at nearly two in the morning, she responds, telling me she’s fine. I instinctively know that she’s using the universal “I’m not at all fine” kind of fine. That’s the last straw. I grab my keys and am out the door and heading through the night to Sprinkled With Sugar to see what’s wrong with my girl.
Maybe she’s just panicking about moving in? Our relationship has happened very quickly, but I thought we were both on the same page. I’m starting to regret not shouting from the rooftops that I love her. Could moving in cause added confusion about where we stand?
I’m not sure how she could mistake any part of our relationship as anything but love. I might not have said the words, but I’ve shown her in every way possible. I love her more than anything. She’s my entire world. I’m going to marry that woman.
I knock on the door and shout for Margo to open up. A few seconds later, I hear the lock disengage. My girl is there looking beautiful even though she’s covered in flour and has obviously been crying. She lets me inside and then shuts and locks the door. I look around the kitchen, and it’s an absolute wreck. It’s then I know for sure something is really wrong. Margo is meticulous with her kitchen. She works clean and seamlessly moves from project to project.
Before she can walk away from me, I grab her up in a fierce hug. She’s stiff in my arms, but I don’t let go. Ever so slowly, she starts to relax into me. I kiss the top of her head, just holding her. Offering her comfort from whatever it is that’s upset her.
“What’s wrong, sweetness?”
She buries her face in my shirt and shakes her head, refusing to answer.
“How can I fix this if you won’t talk to me?”
“I heard you,” she says with a whimper.
I pull away to look down at her upturned face. “What did you hear?”
“You told Torin this thing was all ridiculous,” she sniffles.
“Oh, baby, no. That’s… no. Nothing about us is ridiculous. Not a single thin
g. I love you, Margo. I was asking Torin if I was ridiculous for wanting to do this…” I say, kneeling on the flour-covered floor and taking the ring out of my pocket. “Marry me, Margo Schultz, make me the luckiest man alive.”
She blinks down at me in wide-eyed shock. For a brief moment, I feel anxious that I was right, thinking this is ridiculously fast. It feels right, though. Margo stares at me for what feels like an eternity, tears welling in her beautiful green eyes, then she throws herself at me, knocking us both to the floor.
“Yes!” she cries. “Yes, Amos, I want to be your wife. I love you so much. I was so worried that you didn’t feel this crazy fast love like I did. I assumed the worst. I should’ve talked to you, but I was just so scared.”
I pull her in for a kiss, silencing her. She kisses me back, enthusiastically. I'm so lost in our kisses and touches that I’m not exactly sure how it happens, but we are both naked, and she’s got her lips wrapped tight around my hard cock. She sucks me deep, choking a little at my length. Her little fist moves up and down, the strokes feel like heaven, but not nearly as good as her mouth.
She’s working my cock like she wants my come. I grip her hair tight, thrusting up into her mouth, unable to control myself. My balls draw up tight, and I can feel my come begging to be released. I pull her away before I lose it. She gasps and whimpers, sticking her tongue out to lick the drop of precome from my tip.
“I’m coming in that sweet little pussy of yours,” I growl.
She moans, crawling up my body with bright, excited eyes. My eyes nearly cross when she rubs her wet slit over my cock, spreading her sweet honey all over me. That’s not what I want either. I want her to come all over my face. I want to drink her down.
I grab her hips and lift her, placing her down right on my face. “Ride my face, sweets. Ride my face and give me that cream.”
“I’ve never… I’m too…”
I slap my hand on her ass before she can make a comment about being too big. It’s utter bullshit. I love her curves. She moans at the impact of my hand on her perfect ass then slowly lowers herself to my lips. Impatient for her, I grip her ass and bring her to my mouth. She nearly collapses at the first swipe of my tongue. I lick and suck at her sweet little clit until she’s crying out, then start fucking her with my tongue like I’m going to with my cock.
“Oh my God!” she squeals as her orgasm builds. “Amos… Amos… oh, please!” she chants my name and begs for release. I grip her ass tight and pull her down onto me, sucking her clit hard. Her entire body shakes as she orgasms in a hot rush.
I roll us so that I’m on top and positioned between her legs. Her pussy swollen pink and wetter than I’ve ever seen. I stroke her clit with the head of my cock, and she twitches and whimpers.
“Sensitive?” I ask with a smirk. All she can do is nod as she tries to catch her breath. “Good. I’m going to fuck you now, wife.”
“Yes… fuck me, husband.”
I sink into her inch by inch, filling her with every bit of my thick cock. Her pussy pulses around me until I’m using every trick in the book to stave off my own orgasm. I thrust into her hard and fast, rubbing her clit with my fingers until she’s screaming my name and clenching around me. There’s no holding back. I bury myself deep and come harder than I ever have, then collapse next to her. She rolls into my arms, laying her head over my pounding heart.
“I love you, Amos. I’m sorry I freaked out.”
“It’s okay, my love. Just talk to me next time. I hope you know I would never do anything to hurt you. You’re my heart. My purpose.”
We’ve barely gotten dressed when the sound of a key in the lock comes from the backdoor. Leanne walks in and looks at the kitchen then us. She gives Margo a sly smile then looks at the kitchen again, a little horrified by the mess.
“What happened here?” she finally asks.
“Just a little misunderstanding,” Margo responds.
“With the kitchen?” She looks incredulous as she moves toward the counter full of cupcakes. Her focus narrows in what looks like a chocolate cupcake with chocolate icing. “What’s this?” she asks Margo.
“Umm… apparently sadness bakes happiness. It’s a triple chocolate cupcake filled with strawberry cream and topped with chocolate fudge icing. And it’s sinfully good. The best thing I’ve ever made, I think.”
Even though it’s five in the morning, Leanne eagerly picks up one of the cakes and takes a huge bite. Her eyes practically roll back in her head at the flavors. Curious, I grab my own cupcake and take a bite. It’s delicious. Beyond delicious.
“This is amazing, wife. Like really fucking good,” I say around another bite.
Margo’s cheeks heat in a blush when Leanne looks at her finger then back at me, quickly putting the pieces together that we are engaged for real this time. “Thanks.”
“I want two dozen for the diner,” I demand.
She laughs and waves a hand in front of the counter full of cupcakes. “Take your pick. We have dozens of different kinds. I also made a banana parfait cupcake with white chocolate frosting, a burnt sugar cupcake with vanilla cream icing, and pumpkin spice for fall…”
Leanne and I both look at her in awe. “You created four new cupcake flavors in one night?”
She shrugs, “Like I said, sadness bakes happiness.”
I shake my head, pulling her close. “Well, you better hope that you get creative happy because that’s all you’re going to be from now on.”
She smiles that bright, beautiful smile I love so much, then turns to Leanne. “You’re in charge. I’m going home with my future husband.”
Leanne looks at the kitchen then back at us. With a defeated sigh, she waves us away. “Don’t worry boss, I’ll clean up.”
“Thanks.”
Fifteen minutes later, we are at home, and I’m throwing my future wife over my shoulder as I carry her up to the house.
“Put me down, you big oaf!” Margo shouts, slapping at my butt as I carry her.
“No way. It’s tradition to carry the bride over the threshold.”
“Not over your shoulder like a caveman! Plus, we aren’t even married.”
I slap her ass playfully. “Who says I can’t caveman you over the threshold? I think this is perfect. There’s no getting away when you’re over my shoulder.”
She just laughs, wrapping her arms around my waist.
I carry her into the house and straight to our bedroom, then toss her down onto the mattress. She looks up at me with a sexy smile, her eyes dancing with happiness, her cheeks flushed from being over my shoulder. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
“I love you, Amos. So much.”
I crawl up her body, kissing her deeply. “I’ll never stop earning your love.”
Epilogue
Margo—Two Weeks Later
I look in the mirror, admiring the beautiful white dress I’m wearing. In case you’re wondering, it’s a wedding dress. Everything has been a whirlwind with Amos and me, including the whole wedding thing. We might’ve waited, but we both agreed to a quick wedding so that Alan would be able to experience the day while he’s still having more good days than bad.
“Oh, honey, you look gorgeous,” Trudy says tearfully.
“The dress is perfect,” my mom says in agreement with Trudy.
“No tears! I just spent an hour getting her face just right,” Lani shouts at the mothers.
I shake my head, my black curls bouncing. That’s the one thing Amos requested that my hair be left wild and free. It’s definitely wild, though Lani put some kind of cream in it that’s tamed the frizziness and made my curls look soft and beautiful.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Prue asks, giving me the same out she offered Lani before she walked down the aisle to Torin. “I can have the truck pulled around back, and we can bust you out of here.”
Ana slaps her arm. “Why are you so anti-marriage?”
Prue snorts, “Haven’t you seen how high the divorce rate i
s? Men are pigs.”
“You just wait, Pruette Olsen, one of these days you’re going to meet your match, and you’ll be eating your words,” Lani says.
“It’s time, ladies,” my dad says.
The wedding is small and brief. We opted to have just close family and friends. And six of those people make up our bridesmaids and groomsmen. Ana grouses as she holds Carson’s arm—we may have paired them on purpose, giving them a little push in the right direction… hopefully.
The officiant has us repeat our vows, and then Amos’ lips are on mine, and we are pronounced man and wife. The reception is just as small and intimate.
Amos drags me out to dance even though I can’t dance at all. Somehow, I manage to not step on his feet as he twirls me around the dancefloor. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
I can feel my cheeks heat with a blush. “Once or twice.”
“Then definitely not enough. You look phenomenal. All I can think about is flipping that skirt up and licking your hot little pussy until you’re screaming my name.”
“Yes, please,” I say without missing a beat. I’m ready to get this honeymoon started. We discussed having a baby, and I stopped taking my birth control… this is the first week I’m fertile, and I’m ready to start trying for a baby.
Amos throws me over his shoulder and starts carrying me out of the reception hall. “Amos! We can’t just leave.”
“Sure we can, and we are.”
There are woots and claps as he carries me off to our hotel suite. Everyone in the hotel laughs at my husband and me as he strides through the lobby and to the elevators. Inside the elevator, he sets me down long enough to lift me up so I’m hugging him with my thighs. He presses me to the wall and kisses me until there is no breath between us.
When the elevator dings, he carries me with his lips still on mine to our room. He fumbles with the room key for a second, but then he’s carrying me over yet another threshold wrong.
Earning Her Love (Sweet Somethings Book 2) Page 6
