The rest of the afternoon passed strangely.
Marcus Hughes did exactly what Ruth asked.
That was the problem.
He listened.
No arguments.
No insistence.
No attempts to convince her that he was someone she should trust.
He simply adjusted.
He remained present, but never intrusive.
If Ruth entered a room, he did not immediately approach.
If she asked a question, he answered without adding stories from their past.
If she looked confused, he no longer rushed to explain.
He waited.
And somehow...
that was more unsettling than when he hovered.
Because Ruth had expected Marcus to be stubborn.
She had expected him to argue.
She had expected him to remind her that he was her husband.
She had not expected him to actually respect her wishes.
Ruth sat in the sitting room.
Then the garden.
Then the library.
And somehow...
She hated it.
Matthew found her for the third time staring blankly.
"You know, for someone who wanted him to stop hovering, you look remarkably upset that he stopped hovering."
"I am not upset."
"You look upset."
"I am thinking."
"That is usually dangerous."
She glared.
Matthew smiled.
"There she is."
She sighed.
"He is avoiding me."
Matthew didn't answer.
Because she was right.
"He cares."
"Yes."
"But he is avoiding me."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Matthew looked at her.
"Because I think he finally realized he was frightening you."
The words settled.
Ruth looked away.
She didn't like that.
Not because it was wrong.
Because it was true.
That night, Ruth did not eat dinner.
Not because she wasn't hungry.
Because her mind was too busy.
She lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
Marcus was gone.
Not physically.
He was in the same house.
But somehow...
farther away than before.
She hated it.
She hated that she missed something she never wanted.
She hated that the man who made her uncomfortable was also the man who made her feel safe.
She hated that she couldn't understand herself.
Argh!
Finally, she sat up.
"Fine."
A decision.
A plan.
Tomorrow.
She would fix this.
—
The next morning, Marcus entered the breakfast room expecting another quiet meal.
Instead—
Ruth was waiting.
He immediately became cautious.
"Good morning."
"Marcus."
The seriousness in her voice made him stop.
"Yes?"
"I have rules."
He blinked.
"...hmm?"
"Yes."
Matthew, who had just entered behind him, immediately turned around.
"No."
Ruth looked at him.
"What?"
"I know that expression."
"What expression?"
"The expression that creates problems."
Marcus suppressed any emotions to show on his face.
"What rules?"
Ruth sat straighter.
Rule one.
"You may stay."
Marcus nodded.
"Good."
"Rule two. You may be around me."
"Very well."
"But not too close."
"Understood."
"Do not hover."
"I won't."
"Do not follow me."
"Okay."
"Do not stare at me."
Marcus paused.
"...I will try."
"No."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Don't try. Just don't."
Matthew covered his mouth.
Marcus ignored him.
"Very well."
"Do not touch me."
"I understand."
"Do not kiss me."
Matthew immediately looked away.
Marcus remained composed.
"I understand."
"And..."
She hesitated.
"But if I come to you first..."
Marcus looked up.
"If you come to me first?"
She nodded.
"...then that is different."
"You are aware," he said carefully, "that this rule depends entirely on you."
"Yes."
"And you are aware you are creating exceptions."
"Yes."
"And you still believe this is reasonable."
"Yes."
Matthew covered his face.
"Unbelievable."
Ruth frowned.
"What?"
"I have watched Marcus negotiate impossible contracts."
Matthew pointed at his brother.
"I have watched him convince people who hated him to agree with him."
Then he pointed at Ruth.
"And now he is accepting rules that change depending on your mood."
Ruth looked offended.
"I am not difficult."
Marcus looked at her.
Matthew looked at her.
Even the silence looked at her.
Ruth sighed.
"Fine."
She crossed her arms.
"I maybe…slightly difficult."
Marcus lowered his gaze to hide his smile.
Because that was the most honest thing she had said all morning.
Matthew shook his head.
"Unbelievable."
"What?"
"I never thought I'd see the day."
"See what?"
"My brother."
He pointed at Marcus.
"The most impossible man I know."
Then at Ruth.
"Completely surrender."
Marcus looked at his wife.
At the woman who did not remember ten years of loving him.
The woman who was still somehow the same.
Still stubborn.
Still dramatic.
Still impossible.
Still his.
Even if she didn't know it.
"I suppose neither did I."
Ruth frowned.
"Neither did you what?"
Marcus simply picked up his coffee.
"Nothing."
But Matthew knew.
And perhaps...
one day...
Ruth would know too.
That the cold, untouchable Marcus Hughes had always been nothing more than a hopeless romantic pretending not to be one.
And his greatest weakness had always been the same woman.
His wife.
Ruth Therese Hamilton Hughes.