Page 107 of The Temporary Bride

I like being marked by him.

By my husband.

Chapter 40

Chloe

Lost in my thoughts, I stare out the window of the cozy cafe, the clatter of cutlery and distant conversations blending into the background. All I can think about is Tristan—the feeling of his touch, as possessive and hungry as it’s ever been.

For the past week and a half, ever since he fucked me on the hood of his Audi, he’s gone back to touching me the way he used to. He doesn’t seem to be afraid that I’ll break anymore or feel like he needs need to hold back. I’m glad. Really fucking glad. One of my favorite things about Tristan is how he doesn’t hold anything back while we’re together—I like his dirty words, his unrestrained desire, the way he makes me feel both filthy and beautiful.

Genevieve’s voice breaks through my reverie, and she snaps her fingers to get my attention. “Earth to Chloe! Did you hear what I just said?”

I startle guiltily. The truth is, I didn’t, and it wasn’t because of my fucked up hearing this time. I was just distracted, plain and simple, thinking about Tristan. The last traces of a stupid grin are still plastered on my face. God, I can’t even get through lunch with my sister without daydreaming like a moony teenager.

Setting my fork down, I shake my head. “Sorry. I zoned out for a second there. What did you say?”

Genevieve sits back, looking at me with a curious expression, her arms folded over her chest. “Okay. What’s up with you lately? You seem so different. It’s like talking to a stranger.”

I glance down at my plate, wondering how much to tell her. I don’t normally open up to Genevieve about things like this. We see each other often, but we’re not exactly close emotionally. We used to be when we were kids, but those days feel like a lifetime ago.

Before, I would’ve been content to leave things that way. The distance between me and my sister has never bothered me much. I’ve seen it as just a symptom of a professional family. Business has worked its way into our lives to the point that nothing’s personal, not anymore.

Lately, though, that’s been grating at me. I’ve seen the way Tristan and his brothers have started to grow closer. They’re becoming a tight-knit unit—a real family. If I want to have the same—a family I can rely on—I need to start opening up and taking risks.

I take a deep breath. “I think I’m falling for Tristan,” I admit. “I… I think this could be a real marriage. Something that lasts.”

My sister’s eyebrows go up in surprise. “Are you serious?”

I nod, expecting her to press for details. But instead, she leans back a little, regarding me carefully. Her expression seems skeptical, which takes the wind out of my sails a bit. “Are you sure? I mean, maybe take more time before saying stuff like that. You barely know him.”

Her response stings more than I expected. She’s my sister. I had hoped for some support, maybe even a bit of advice, and I can’t help but feel disappointed. Maybe it was too much to hope that we’d ever have that kind of relationship.

She seems to notice the way my shoulders sag and adds quickly, “It’s not that I’m not happy for you, Chloe. I just don’t want to see you get hurt, and I don’t entirely trust Tristan.”

Fair enough. I try to put myself in her shoes. If she came to me with this, would I be supportive or concerned? After all, Tristan and I haven’t been together for very long. Genevieve barely knows anything about him. To her, this must seem like a whirlwind romance that could easily go sideways.

“I get that,” I say, resting my elbows on the table. “I know it’s sudden, especially since I went into this whole thing expecting to hate him. But Tristan has been there for me in ways I didn’t expect. I know it’s hard to see from the outside, but he’s shown me a different side of himself.”

“Are you sure?” She gives me a look. “Or are you seeing what you want to see? Sometimes it’s easy to overlook the red flags when you’re caught up in the moment.”

I pause, trying to think of how to respond, weighing everything I know about Tristan. It’s a challenging question, one that taps into my own uncertainties, but as I play back everything we’ve gone through together—the look on his face when I told him about Spencer, the warmth of his arms around me, the way his eyes light up as he laughs—I know that this is real.

I’ve gotten to know him more intimately than pretty much anyone else in my life. I’ve seen all sides of him, the broken and the whole, and I love every part. His kindness, his strength, his vulnerabilities… they’re all pieces of the man I’m truly falling in love with.

And I don’t think there’s anyone who knows him better than I do. Least of all Genevieve.

“I know,” I say. “Don’t worry. We’ve got all the time in the world to figure things out.”

She gives me a look I can’t parse, part concern and part something else. Then she brightens and deftly changes the subject, launching into a story about some “pain in the ass new hire” in MediaSphere’s legal department—apparently a Harvard grad who’s already gotten on everyone’s nerves—and then telling me about the new pilates instructor at her studio, how cute he is and how she’s been switching her schedule around to make sure she ends up in his classes.

I nod and smile at the right moments, trying to match her energy, but my heart isn’t in it. All I can think about is the way she shut me down a few minutes ago, and how easily she’s moved past it. The connection I keep hoping for with her always seems to be just out of reach.

We hug outside the restaurant after the check is settled, and she squeezes my arm and says we should do this more often. I agree that we should, meaning it even though I also feel faint exhaustion at the idea.

She heads out, and I’m staring after her feeling slightly hollow when my phone buzzes. Tristan’s name pops up on the screen.

“Hey,” I say, holding it up to my good ear to answer. “What’s up?”