If she had changed her mind after the wedding ceremony, then he would survive it.
He had survived worse things.
At least, he told himself that.
His father’s death.
Three failed cattle seasons.
A winter fever that nearly killed him.
Being trapped beneath a horse for six hours with a broken leg.
Surely he could survive sleeping under the same roof as the woman he loved while knowing she did not want him.
He reached for his coat.
“Please don’t leave.”
Daniel stopped.
He looked back.
Emily had pushed herself upright.
The blanket slipped from one shoulder.
She caught it quickly.
Her brown eyes were still wet.
“Don’t go.”
“I thought you wanted space.”
“I do.”
He waited.
“But not from you.”
Daniel frowned.
“That sentence requires explaining.”
Despite everything, the smallest smile touched her mouth.
Then vanished.
“I know.”
He placed the coat down again.
“All right.”
Emily looked toward the bed.
Then toward the fireplace.
Anywhere except at him.
Daniel remained standing.
He wanted to cross the room.
He did not.
“Can I come closer?”
Her eyes lifted.
The question seemed to surprise her.
“Yes.”
He moved to the foot of the bed.
Then stopped.
“Closer?”
Emily nodded.
Daniel came around to the side.
He did not sit.
Emily stared at his hands.
He noticed.
He kept them visible.
“Emily.”
“Yes?”
“If you’re frightened because you think tonight gives me some right to you, it doesn’t.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“I know.”
“No.”
Daniel shook his head.
“I don’t think you do.”
She looked at him.
“I stood before a preacher.”
“So did I.”
“I promised to be your wife.”
“And I promised to be your husband.”
“Yes.”
“That means I protect your choices too.”
Emily’s expression crumpled.
Daniel immediately regretted speaking.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“Emily.”
“It’s not nothing.”
“Then tell me.”
She wiped at the tear.
“I’ve never heard a man say that.”
Daniel felt anger rise.
Not at her.
At a dead man.
At everything she had revealed during scattered conversations about her first marriage.
Henry Hartwell had died four years earlier.
Pneumonia.
Emily never spoke about him with hatred.
That almost made Daniel dislike him more.
The details appeared gradually.
Henry had controlled money.
Henry disliked being questioned.
Henry decided where they lived.
Who Emily visited.
How much she spent.
When he became angry, he rarely hit her.
Emily had said that once as if it were supposed to reassure Daniel.
Rarely.
Daniel had gone outside afterward and split wood until his hands bled.
He returned to the present.
“Henry made you afraid of marriage.”
Emily flinched.
“Not marriage.”
“What then?”
She looked toward the blanket.
“Failing at it.”
Daniel sat finally.
Not on the bed.
On the wooden chair beside it.