I had considered trying to get a waitressing job here at one point. One night’s tips would no doubt be a month’s worth of bills paid. But I wasn’t even up to their standards forservingtheir clients. Ghost Pines was simply an illusion for the poor like me. It catered to the wealthy who had vacation homes on Heathens Hollow, or flew in on their sea planes or helicopters from Seattle. No true locals could afford a place like this.
“They have great prime rib, right?” Apollo asks as he places another piece of meat into his mouth.
“It’s so good,” I say as I take in every savory taste.
The restaurant isn’t exactly fancy by Seattle standards—at least not white tablecloths and candlelight—but it does have a roaring fire, leather booths, and the rustic charm of the decor makes the entire place feel warm and inviting. For Heathens Hollow, this is as fancy as this fisherman town will get. I love it, and I love every minute of this date with Apollo.
“So, I’d like to ask you something,” he says as he sips from his wine. “But I don’t want to hurt your feelings by admitting I can’t remember something.”
“You won’t hurt my feelings. I know that memory loss is going to be an issue. The doctors had warned me it could be much worse than it seems to be. You really are recovering at break-neck speed.”
“Okay, but this could hurt you.”
“Hurt me? How?”
“I don’t really remember us meeting and how we became married. What I do know almost feels…like it’s a story that’s been told to me. I lack the details. You’ve mentioned that I saved you from the island. You make me feel as if I did something more than just asking you to marry me.” He pauses as he chews his meat and then swallows, never breaking his stare. “How did we meet? I’d like to hear it from you.”
I divert my eyes and shrug. Does it bother me he doesn’t remember our beginning? Maybe. But maybe I’m bothered even more that I don’t really want to talk about it. “It’s the classic Cinderella story. Poor girl. Rich man. You brought me into your life so I could no longer be an Eastsider.”
“Did we meet here on Heathens Hollow or Seattle?”
I pause from eating, observing the way he asks the question. He really doesn’t remember. “We met at the pier. I was a fishmonger. One of my many jobs that would pay me in cash so I could eat or pay whatever pressing bill was demanding to be paid. You were walking along the pier and we met. For some crazy reason, you and I seemed to form a connection. Regardless that I smelled of fish and poverty. You asked me to dinner, and then three months later we were married.” I rushed the story, but hopefully it’s all he’ll need to trigger his memory.
I take a drink of my wine and stare at the fireplace nearby. I don’t want to talk about my past, and even though Apollo and I seem closer than ever, I’m uncomfortable talking about our past as well. It’s almost as if a trip down memory lane will pop the perfect bubble we’ve been in.
“Tell me more,” he says, clearly not picking up on the fact this topic is like picking a scab. I don’t want to bleed when I feel like I’ve started to heal.
“Like what?”
“Did you know I was a Godwin when you met me?”
I chuckle. “Did I know I was having dinner with someone who owned the entire island of Heathens Hollow?” I laugh again. “No, or I wouldn’t have had dinner with you, no matter how hungry I was. I’d be too scared you’d ask for back rent we owed you. We were squatting on your land.” I smile, but it’s not exactly funny.
“What made you fall in love with me?”
I shrug. “I came from poverty, abuse, and neglect. My father was an alcoholic and my mother was dead—or at least that’s what he told my sister and me. So when you came along with all your money and promises, it felt like I had found my happily ever after. My fairytale I had hoped for was now a reality. But—”
“It wasn’t exactly a fairytale,” he finishes for me.
“Not at all. I had no idea what marrying you and becoming a Godwin would be like.” I see that he isn’t eating any longer, and I feel like I need to lighten the mood. I don’t want this dinner date to become a bashing session. He’s trying to make amends, and I need to allow him to be able to do so. Iwanthim to do so. “But you still saved me from the Eastside, and I’ll forever be grateful.”
“Do you still want out of the marriage?” he asks.
I take a bite of meat so I have time to think about his question as I chew. He waits and watches me as I swallow. “I know it’s not an option. Your family never hid that fact from me. I know what I was marrying in to. I signed that contract with blood. So…no. I no longer want out of the marriage. A deal is a deal.”
“Is that how you see us? A deal?”
“How do you see us?” I counter, not wanting to really dive in and divulge all the conflicting emotions I’ve had since the accident, the betrayal, the punishment, and then what he did for my sister.
“You’re my wife. I’m your husband,” he begins. “Call it what you want, but I’m fucking obsessed with you. I can’t imagine ever letting you leave.”
“I’m not leaving,” I say softly, drinking my wine as I look over the table with hooded eyes. “I may like thisobsessionyou speak of too much to leave.”
Apollo leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. In a low voice, he says, “I’m going to take you home, and I’m going to fuck you hard. I’m going to fuck you until you scream out my name. Not cry. Not moan. Scream.”
ChapterThirty-Three
Daphne