No More Waiting, She Chooses Love novel Chapter 2

Conrad looked up at the sound of my voice, his gaze landing on my face.

I didn’t need a mirror to know I must have looked pale.

"Not feeling well?" His brows furrowed slightly.

Silently, I walked to his desk, swallowing the bitter taste in my throat. "If you don't want to marry me, I can tell Jacqueline."

The wrinkles between Conrad's brows deepened. He knew I had overheard his conversation with Jefferson.

My throat felt salty. "I didn't expect to become an unwanted dish, Conrad..."

"In everyone's eyes, we're already husband and wife," Conrad interrupted.

So what? Was he marrying me for everyone else? I wanted him to marry me because he loved me and wanted to spend his life with me.

With a snap, Conrad closed his pen, his gaze falling on the ID in my hand. "We'll go get the marriage license next Wednesday."

It was what I wanted to hear. But at that moment, it made me feel terrible.

I lowered my head, shaking it. "Conrad, you don't have to force yourself. I don't need your charity."

"Felicia!" Conrad called my name with a weighty tone.

I trembled, looking up to meet his impatient eyes as he reached out his hand toward me.

My grip tightened on the ID. His jaw clenched. "Give it to me."

He gently ruffled my hair. "I do. Why else would I drive across the city to get you desserts, send you roses every birthday, watch meteor showers with you, and marry you?"

Every time I hesitated, a smile from Conrad and a few reassuring words would put me at ease. I was like a kite, with him firmly holding the string, controlling my emotions at his whim. But the words I had overheard still affected me.

This time, I wasn't as easy to soothe as before.

Looking into Conrad’s eyes, I asked, "Is it the romantic feeling a man has for a woman?"

At that, the hand in my hair paused, and his smile faded. His hand dropped to my cheek, gently pinching. "Don't overthink it. We'll go home together after work. You like salmon, don’t you? I had someone bring fresh salmon. I'll cook it for dinner."

He left, just like many times before, avoiding my questions. The scent of his hand cream lingered on my nose, his warmth still on my cheek, but my heart was cold. He was kind to me, pampered me, and liked me, but his affections felt more fraternal than romantic. Yet, my heart was entirely his, having adored him for ten years.

So, what should I do? Should I marry him and settle into a passionless life, as familiar with each other as an old married couple with no interest in intimacy? Or should I leave him, letting him find the spark that would excite his heart?