Chapter 46
Julian pushed open the bedroom door.
The room was quiet, filled with the faint scent of Willow’s perfume. On the bed, Willow lay curled up, seemingly asleep.
He walked over and crouched down beside her. He brushed a few strands of hair from her face before placing a hand on her forehead.
It was still warm.
Willow stirred. Her fevered eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze. Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “You’re home?”
Julian’s heart skipped an inexplicable beat.
He cupped her face gently and nodded. “I told Blair to bring up some soup. Eat a little before you sleep again. Are you feeling very sick?”
The way he touched her reminded her of how one would pet a small animal. She wasn’t used to it.
Reaching out, she pressed a hand to his forehead. He wasn’t sick
Julian chuckled. “Is it so strange for me to be concerned? You used to complain that I wasn’t attentive enough.”
Willow leaned against the headboard, her expression unreadable. “I needed that before but not anymore. Julian, you’re not the right man for me, and I’m not the wife you envisioned. When our two years are up, we’re going our separate ways.”
His dark eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re that eager to leave?”
Before she could respond, a knock at the door interrupted them.
Blair entered, carrying a tray with soup, light side dishes, and medicine. She set it down in the sitting area and, reading the mood, quickly excused herself. Julian turned back to Willow. “I’ll carry you over.”
Before she could protest, he scooped her up effortlessly.
The silk robe she wore barely covered her, especially her long, slender legs. When she instinctively tried to adjust the fabric, it only left other areas exposed. Julian’s gaze lowered slightly. “Why bother? There’s nothing I haven’t seen.”
Willow was speechless.
If he wanted to keep up the act of being a loving husband, she could play along. It made things easier. So when he settled her onto his lap, she didn’t resist. Her bare legs rested against his slate–gray dress pants. The contrast looked both stark and intimate.
A nervous flutter passed through Willow.
Julian leaned in, murmuring against her ear, “I just changed into these today.”
She had no reply for that. Her fever left her lightheaded, so she let him feed her spoonfuls of soup.
After half a bowl, she felt a little better and tried to move away, but Julian’s grip on her waist tightened, firm and possessive.
“Yes?”
He dismissed it as a simple biological reaction.
Willow’s gaze fell on the bouquet of white roses sitting on the nightstand. She reached out, cradling it in her hands and staring at it for a long time.
She thought how wonderful it would have been if Julian had treated her this way when they first got married.
There would have been warmth, at least. Beautiful memories instead of a mess of tangled emotions and regret.
“What are you thinking?” Julian asked.
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