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#Chapter 94: The Prince and the Pauper
I stay frozen in my spot. The dream version of Ansel sweeps back a flyaway strand of hair from Zara’s face. My stomach knots itself into a pretzel when she leans in to kiss him. His arms are around her. Her hand is in his hair. My Ansel is as awkward as I’ve ever seen him. He’s looking down, and seems to be holding his breath. Dream Ansel puts on the brakes, pulling back. “What’s wrong,” Zara asks. “Did I… do something?” “No.” He looks frustrated and runs his hands through his hair. “Not at all.” He clears his throat. “I think we need to stay focused,” he says, standing, “On the task at hand.” “That was the extent of it, mostly,” Ansel says next to me, wearing a guilty expression. “This was as close as it got to a rebound.” “I don’t have room to talk,” I say, thinking ashamedly about kissing Ethan. “And, we were broken up.” I blush. “We are broken
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The sea is outside. We’re in the bedroom of a small cottage. The door’s open and I can see his mom’s old piano is tucked into the corner of the living room. My ballet shoes sit near the bench.He looks beautiful in the dim light.Everything about Ansel is strong - from the tenor of his voice, his height and broad shoulders, to the muscular lines of his body and the chiseled features of his face.It’s all there - the power of him, the hard lines I resented because he had changed, but his defenses are stripped away, revealing the totality of him and the gentle warmth inside.We’re shoulder-to-shoulder. He tilts his head over to me and smiles, and I like the way his eyes crinkle when he does. I let my head fall against his shoulder. He hums in my ear and loops his index finger around mine.“Is that a new song?”“Just a bit of a melody that popped in,” he says, shr
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Karin“Tick tick tick…” The jet of a sprinkler shoots water across the green lawn, painting a rainbow in the shimmer of water droplets against the morning sun. Henry wakes up to the sound of his wife crying against the closed bathroom door. “Mags?” Silence. Apathy. Untouched plates of food.Henry sits on the porch, wearing a faded Hawaiian shirt with a surfboard print. Maggie’s in a chair across from him, almost unrecognizable with greasy, unwashed hair and wrinkled clothes. He’s made her iced tea. “With a dash of mint,” he says, his tone gentle. Maggie stares ahead. There’s a dead look to her eyes.Leaves crunching. Greased palm. Black car. Maggie’s hollow eyes torment him. He misses when her eyes were alive, when they sparkled with joy, and even when they sizzled in anger at whatever dumb things he did. It’s her eyes that flicker in his mind when he’s approached. ‘I can be a rat,’ he thinks. He says “yes,” without asking the obvious: “Why me?” Later, he will ask himself
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- Alpha's Surrogate Wife #Ansel’s Epilogue&Karin’s Epilogue
- Alpha's Surrogate Wife #Chapter 99 - The Battle: Karin
- Alpha's Surrogate Wife #Chapter 98: The One You Feed
- Alpha's Surrogate Wife #Chapter 97: Karin’s Story
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- Alpha's Surrogate Wife #Chapter 95: The Lovers
- Alpha's Surrogate Wife #Chapter 94: The Prince and the Pauper
- Alpha's Surrogate Wife #Chapter 93: Karin
- Alpha's Surrogate Wife #Chapter 92: Karin
