“What are you hiding?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He’d holding to-go cups of coffee and pastry bags.
“Do you not have warm water?”
“Why would I have that?” he asks, deadpan.
“Because it’s 2016.”
“Oh, Princess, living in the present tense is over-rated.” He opens a cabinet above the toilet, finds a clean towel, and hands it to me.
I grab it, pulling the curtain to cover me, and begin drying my legs. I can hardly breathe, it’s so cold.
“This is ridiculous. Not having hot water here is unacceptable, Garrick. What other archaic rituals do you subscribe to? Let me guess, you wash your laundry by hand?”
He scoffs. “I didn’t, the laundress in town did. Now, though, I won’t have to send it out.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask from behind the curtain. I squeeze my wet hair, and droplets of cold water fall on my toes.
“You’re my wife.”
“I don’t follow,” I say, stepping out of the shower with the towel surely fastened around me. Even though last night was blissful, the morning has quickly created a divide between Garrick and me.
“Why do you think I need a wife?” he asks.
“Because your parents wanted an heir. Because you’re a grown man.”
“I don’t know how things operate back in Elexia—if women just get married and lounge around all day—but that’s not how things are going to work between us.”
I shake my head, wondering how someone so good with their hands can be so dense. I don’t even know how to address his statement, so I avoid it. “I need another towel.”
“Why is that?” he asks. “One is enough.”
“Are you seriously rationing my towel usage?” Pushing behind him, I grab another towel from the cabinet. I fling my hair upside down and gather it in the towel, then wrap it in a turban on top of my head.
I pull out my blow dryer from my toiletries bag and scan the bathroom, but I can’t find an electrical socket. Of course there’s not a single socket here.
“Do you have electricity in this place?” I ask tightly.
“Electricity?” Garrick crosses his arms, assessing me.
I have literally zero patience for his games right now. It’s like a roller coaster with Garrick. The highs and lows are too much. I feel sick.
“Yes,” I tell him. “Electricity is this thing that transmits an electric current, that makes things operate. Like charging things, or running things. For example, a refrigerator. Or a stove.”
“That’s all unnecessary bullshit.”
“Garrick. I could see how a cell phone charging may seem like “bullshit” to you. But a refrigerator is necessary. How do you keep your food cold?”
“I knew it was going to be like this with you.”
“You mean you knew your wife would want to refrigerate her milk?”
“Exactly.” He smirks, kicks open the door, and leaves the bathroom—with the coffee still in his hand.
I blink.
Did my husband seriously just tell me we don’t have electricity?
I tug the towel tighter around my body, realizing that I’m not going to be able to blow-dry my hair. Basically, ever again.
I have to get out of the freaking woods.
12
I knew this whole thing was going to be a cluster fuck. Last night, taking her against the wall in my old royal chamber, was an anomaly.
It was the heat of the moment. She was high and I was hot and we were both ready. There was the exhilaration of getting married and having our first fight, and then walking into the castle ballroom. Her eyes lit up and her tits were taut and I was so pissed at even having to be there—it all led up to one passionate deflowering.
And then later, it wasn’t just hot, it was heaven.
But now, seeing her like this, unwilling to even take a moment and try to see where I’m coming from? It’s exactly what I thought it would be: a disaster.
Unless a woman chose this life on her own there’s no way in hell she would want it. I don’t know how this is going to work, unless she calms the fuck down.
She storms around the cabin, rifling through the suitcase that’s tossed open across our bed.
“I got coffee,” I tell her, setting her cup on the counter. “And croissants. I don’t usually do that shit, but I thought it would help start things off right.”
“Right. Because coffee is just going to make up for that fact we don’t have electricity.”
“I was trying to be a fucking gentleman.”
“Yeah, you should totally get a prize for that.”
I shake my head and walk to the stove. I stoke the dying embers, add a log, and stare into the flames—because, hell, I don’t know how to deal with Iris.