I push thoughts of my parents away. I have enough to worry about right now without adding that to the mix. Like wondering what Theo expects of me. We’re married, but I don’t remember him. I don’t know how to be a wife. My last memories are of me graduating high school only months before. I was just entering adulthood. I worked part-time jobs during high school because I wanted that experience and the chance to earn money on my own. I know the basics of cooking, but we ate out most nights. We had a housekeeper come in a couple of times a week who kept the house spotless and tidy. I mean, I know how to clean, but I don’t know how to run a household.
It’s not really the domestic side of marriage I’m worried about though. That I can learn as I go. It’s the physical part. More specifically, the sexual aspect. Does Theo expect me to sleep with him? Have sex with him? He’s been nothing but a gentleman the last few weeks, but I’ve seen the way his eyes roam over me when he thinks I’m asleep or not looking. The desire in their depths scares me. The last I remember, I was a virgin. We were married, and Theo doesn’t seem like the type to wait for marriage to have sex. I know we must have slept together, which means I must have trusted him. I hope he doesn’t expect that of me yet.
It would be so much easier if I could just remember him, but even with that thought, I’m still unsure if I want those memories back. Something niggles in the back of my mind, warning me to be cautious.
Footsteps have me looking up from my lap to see Theo walking into the room with a nurse pushing a wheelchair following him.
“You ready to blow this popsicle stand?” Theo asks with a smile, coming to stand beside the bed.
Although I’m more than ready to leave the hospital, I’m not ready to go with Theo. However, not having any other choice, I nod.
My anxiety lessens at his charming, boyish smile, but it’s still there, eating away at my nerves. I ignore his offered hand to help me from the bed, pretending I don’t see it, and get off on the opposite side from where he’s standing. I slip my feet into the dark gray flat shoes he brought me, grab a small bag that has a few things in it, and walk around to the nurse. She explains my at-home care instructions, passes me a paper that has my next physical therapy appointment, and cautions me that even though I’m well enough to go home, to still take it easy for a while.
The strength in my legs is better, and I can walk on my own with minimal trouble, but per hospital policy, I’m required to be escorted out via a wheelchair. I feel like an invalid as we navigate down the hallway.
When we walk out of the doors, there’s a dark blue car pulled to the curb. Theo walks ahead of us and pulls open the passenger side door, then holds his arm out toward it.
“Your chariot awaits, my lady.”
I laugh at his goofy behavior, and more tension eases away. He must sense my turmoil and is trying to abate my stress, something I’m grateful for.
When he reaches his hand out to help me from the chair, I make a split-second decision and place my hand in his. As soon as our hands touch, I regret it. Sparks travel up my arm, eliciting goose bumps, and a weird feeling settles in my stomach. The heated look in Theo’s eyes tells me he felt something too. Something I’m not ready to acknowledge yet.
I ignore the desire to pull my hand away and let him lead me to the car. Theo’s my husband, so I need to get used to his touch, even simple touches like holding hands.
“You take care of yourself, Miss Rozero,” the nurse calls once I’m seated safely inside the car.
I smile. “Thank you for everything, Mary.”
She turns, and she and the wheelchair disappear back inside. Theo closes the car door and while he puts my bag in the back seat and he walks to his side, I buckle my seat belt.
Seeing my tight grip on the shoulder strap of the seat belt, Theo reaches over and puts his hand on top of one of mine. I know he’s only trying to calm my nerves, but it does just the opposite.
“Are you okay?”
I jerk at the sound of his voice, then feel like an idiot for doing so. I take in a deep breath, release it, place a smile on my face I don’t feel, and look at him.
“I’ll be fine.”
His eyes look over my face for a moment before a small smile plays on his lips. His hand pulls mine away from the seat belt and brings it to his mouth. My heart stutters in my chest at feeling his lips and warm breath against my skin.
“Yes, you’re going to be just fine,” he murmurs against the back of my hand.
Luckily, he releases my hand after that, and we pull away from the hospital. It’s quiet for the first several minutes, then a thought occurs to me. Something that’s been on my mind for days.
“Why does everyone call me Miss Rozero when we’re married? I thought I would carry your last name now.”
We pull up to a red light, and out the corner of my eye, I see Theo shift in his seat, appearing uncomfortable. He replies a minute later.
“Because we never got the chance to do an official name change. In the eyes of the law, you’re still Jules Rozero, even if our marriage certificate says otherwise.”
“Oh. That makes sense.”
Theo releases the brake and we pull through the light. “We can get it changed as soon as possible.”
“Oh, there’s no rush,” I say quickly, then cringe. I don’t want to change my last name. Maybe I will in the future when I’m more used to the idea of being married. I don’t feel married right now, so the thought of changing my last name doesn’t seem right.
Theo doesn’t say anything at my rushed reply, so I peek over at him. His outward appearance seems calm, but I see the tiny tic in his jaw and the way he’s gripping the steering wheel tightly. A shudder runs through me.
I turn away from him and look out the window. The buildings we pass by are not like the buildings where I grew up. These are old and dilapidated, many looking like they’ll crumple to dust with a heavy wind. When we pull into a neighborhood, the houses don’t look much better. The dried and overgrown yards are swarming with trash and kids’ toys. We pass by a few houses that have people on the porch or in the yard. Sympathy hits me at the despondent and haggard faces. We pull up to a stop sign and fear replaces the sympathy when a man at the corner right outside my window leers at me. His toothless grin and the way he grabs his privates suggestively have revulsion cramping my stomach. I turn away from him and discreetly make sure my door is locked as I look out the windshield.
I knew this side of town was rough, but I had no idea just how much. When I was growing up, my parents never came to the south side, saying it wasn’t a place for people like us to visit. Once I got my license, I came to this side of town a few times, just because I could. Obviously, my limited knowledge of the south side was more restricted than I thought. How can the city let this place become so run-down? I know the actions of people caused a lot of the destruction, but there has to be something the governor can do.
Minutes later, we pull up to a house with white siding. Or what used to be white. Now it’s a dingy grey. This house isn’t as bad as the others in the neighborhood, but it still wouldn’t be considered nice compared to what I’m used to. There’s another car in the drive, and we park next to it.
“Home sweet home,” Theo comments, turning the car off.
I drag my gaze away from my new home and look at him. The uncertainty in his eyes tells me my own feelings must show on my face. Feeling like an ungrateful bitch when he’s been nothing but kind to me, I plaster on a smile.
“It’s not much, but you’ll be comfortable here, Jules. I promise,” he rumbles in a deep voice.
“I’m sure I will,” I offer, hoping to fool not only him, but myself as well
“Come on. Let’s go inside.”
We both get out of the car, and my nerves start getting the best of me again. After grabbing my bag out of the back, Theo walks around to my side, placing a hand at the small of my back to lead me forward. I try to walk faster to lose his hand, but my damn legs are shaking, making it difficult.
“My parents are here,” he states as we walk up the three steps to the door. Instead of going in, he stops and faces me. “I told them to give you a few days before coming over, but Mom’s been itching to meet you for weeks. There was no holding her back anymore.”