The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 186

They were gone for a long time. Feeling uneasy, Penelope went to find them.

She found them in the hallway. Her father’s hands were clasped together, his voice almost pleading as he spoke to Theodore. “Please, I’m begging you, don’t ever break my daughter’s heart. She’s suffered so much in her life, more than you know. I failed to take care of her, and I feel so guilty. So please, help me look after her. If… if one day you stop loving her, just don’t hurt her. Just bring her back to me.”

Tears instantly welled in Penelope’s eyes. She had always known how much her father loved her, but she, his daughter, always seemed to cause him nothing but worry and pain.

“I promise you,” Theodore said, his voice solemn, “as long as she is my wife, I will take care of her. And no matter what happens in the future, I will never be the one to let go of her hand. If she chooses to let go of mine, and if that is what makes her happy, I won’t stand in her way.”

Penelope was stunned. Their marriage was a partnership, one that was supposed to dissolve once their goals were met. Yet he had just promised he would never be the one to let go.

“Good, good. Your words put my mind at ease.”

Her father had drunk too much, out of sheer happiness. So had Mr. Johnson. He invited Mr. Anderson to stay at his house, and to Penelope’s surprise, her father, who had been so reserved since arriving in Orenth, cheerfully agreed. The two old men, abandoning the younger couple, had the driver take them home first.

Theodore kept his word. He took Penelope home and let her satisfy her craving.

“You taste like wine,” she murmured, dizzy from his kisses.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes. The wine, I mean.”

“Want more?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“What did you say you liked just now?”

“I like you. Kiss me.”

Tugging at his shirt with one hand, Theodore swept her into his arms. There was no time to make it upstairs. He pressed her against the hood of his sports car.

They devoured each other, a raging fire held back by the thinnest of lines.

“I want you, Theodore.”

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