Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Cole
T he trip home had been uneventful. We’d landed in Portland this afternoon, then jumped on a shuttle to Bangor. From there, I drove Debbie home.
Though we hadn’t had much time to talk through the details since we were surrounded by my family, Willa and I had agreed that I should move into her cottage right away. I had no idea how this was going to work, but I was determined to try. She was the best kind of person, and a single day with me had royally fucked up her life. I owed it to her to do all I could to make this right.
Debbie, exhausted by the busy weekend, was quiet on the drive, but she eyed me suspiciously several times during the trip. To her credit, she didn’t ask questions, even as she helped me fold my laundry and pack my limited possessions into a few plastic totes she kept around for craft supplies.
It was already getting dark, but I wouldn’t leave until this place was nicer than it was when I’d arrived. It was a challenge, because Debbie took great pride in her house. But I owed her that much. So I took out the trash, vacuumed, and changed the sheets on my bed.
Debbie appeared as I was adjusting the throw pillows in the room I’d been occupying. “You don’t have to do all the chores.”
“I put fresh batteries in the smoke detectors last week,” I explained, keeping my attention on my task. “And I set an alert on my phone to replace them in six months.”
“Stop,” she said softly, stepping up beside me. She stood silently and waited for me to look at her. Then, pushing her dark blond hair behind her ears, she tilted her head and gave me a soft smile. “It’s okay, Cole. Go. Move in with your wife. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Emotion tore through me, ripping at my composure. I owed this woman so much. A lifetime of repaying her kindnesses wouldn’t be enough, and I didn’t have the vocabulary to tell her what her love for me meant.
“Thank you,” I said as my nose stung and my eyes went hot. That was the best I could do. “For giving me a home, a place to land.”
She threw her arms around my torso. “Oh, sweetie. You are my sixth son, and you always will be. And like my other boys, you always have a place here.” She patted my arm, sniffling, as she pulled back. “You’ve been on a bumpy road, but you have such a good heart. I know you’ll be okay. Please come have dinner with me every once in a while. And don’t forget about knitting club.”
Despite the ache in my chest, I couldn’t help but smile down at her. “I won’t. I promise.” I hugged her close again. My whole life, Debbie had been there for me, and she had always treated me as one of her own.
People like her, the kind who had a person’s back when the chips were down, were the kind worth holding on to.
I squeezed her hard. “I love you,” I said, my eyes stinging with tears.
I’d moved in with Debbie when I hit rock bottom. With nowhere to go. I was recovering from hip surgery, and I’d recently lost my career and my long-term girlfriend, along with all sense of direction. My father had been tossed into prison, my mother had moved away—and hadn’t wanted anything to do with me anyway—and I’d alienated every person who’d ever cared about me.
Except Debbie. She didn’t scare easily. Even when I was at my lowest, she’d rolled her eyes, given me a list of chores to do, and baked a batch of peanut butter cookies for me.
She never let me feel sorry for myself, and she kept me busy, even if it was only watching Jeopardy or going to knitting club.
“I love you too, kid. Now go move in with your wife. I wouldn’t give my favorite roommate up for anyone. But I have a good feeling about this. She will keep you on your toes. Not that you need to be any taller.”
“Thank you,” I said again, because she’d done more for me than anyone ever had. More than I deserved. “I’m not sure I can ever repay you.”
“You don’t owe me anything. Being a mom is my job. It’s my calling in this life. I’ve been given six wonderful boys to love, and now I’ve got a couple of grandkids too. I’ll gladly do this every day for the rest of my life. Someday you will understand.”
The drive that headed down toward the lake was wooded, and in the evening, the road was dark. But when the woods opened up a half mile in and the light of the setting sun lit up the property before me, it was hard to breathe. Willa had mentioned she was renting a cottage on the water, but this was a spectacular estate. The grounds were meticulously manicured and included what looked like an apple orchard. Old-fashioned style lights lit the long drive that led to a large cottage surrounded by shrubbery. It looked like something out of a fairy tale.
I parked next to a blue hatchback I assumed was Willa’s. How strange, that we were married and I didn’t even know what kind of car she drove.
Before I’d even turned off the engine, she was out on the porch to greet me, wringing her hands. Clearly, she was as anxious about this arrangement as I was.
“Nice house,” I said as I hauled myself out of my truck.
“I’m renting it from Magnolia. She owns the whole estate.”
“Course she does.” Magnolia Stephens-Thomas was a trust fund baby whose great-grandfather had built a railroad. She lived in New York but had inherited her family’s estate up here. She was another person I’d known for most of my life but shared no commonalities with. She was an event planner for the rich and famous, but she was a good friend to Lila and Willa.
“She offered me the big house, but what do I need a seven-bedroom mansion for?” She giggled. “It has a catering kitchen, for God’s sake.”
The mansion? Apparently, the estate was so large there was a mansion around here I couldn’t see from where we stood.
“She doesn’t use it?”
“Only once in a while. Though she’s been here more lately. It’s been in her family for a long time. You passed the caretaker’s house on the ride here—that’s Mr. and Mrs. Lewis. You’ll see them around. Mr. Lewis has been doing the landscaping here since the ’70s.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said as I opened the back hatch.
“Make sure to tell him that. But speak loudly in his right ear. He’s still fighting me on a hearing aid.”
Grinning, I shook my head. “Noted.”
She came down the stairs and rounded the Tahoe. When she was standing beside me, she put her hands on her hips. “Is this all your stuff?”
I nodded, waiting for her to make a comment.
Instead, she sidled up closer and reached for a bin. The move made her scent swirl around me. Vanilla, maybe? It was nice. Even in the cold November air, her proximity made everything feel warm.
She hefted the tote and headed for the porch. Quickly, I did the same, following her swaying hips up the porch stairs and inside. The door opened into an open-plan living room that was anchored by a large fireplace on one side. It was gorgeous. A sort of upscale rustic.
Without stopping, she made her way to the back of the house and nudged a door off the kitchen open with her hip.
“Here’s your room.”
The bedroom was small, outfitted with a queen-size bed covered with a green quilt and flanked by oak nightstands.
“Perfect.”
“Sorry about the queen.” She grimaced. “It’s all that will fit in here.”
There was no stopping my laugh. “I’ve been sleeping in a twin for more than a year. This is a luxury for me.”
She whipped around, her mouth hanging open. “A twin? You? How does that even work?”
I shrugged. “I’ve learned to make myself fit in a lot of scenarios. This world isn’t really made for people my height.”
“I guess not.” She hummed. “Is that why you’ve got that monster truck out there?”
Setting the tote on the bed, I shook my head and grinned. “It’s hardly a monster truck. It’s a Tahoe.”
“It’s huge.” Her eyes went wide.
“I need a car my size.” I stuffed my hands into my pockets. “I can’t even fit in most sedans, and there’s enough room for my hockey equipment.”
Her nose wrinkled in the most adorable way. “I knew I smelled something gross.”
Chuckling, I rocked back on my heels. “I’ll keep it outside.”
“Thanks.” She spun and headed for the door. “I’ll help you get the rest of your stuff.”
“It’s late.”
“Yeah, but it’s not every day my husband moves in.”
The way she shrugged was so cute I wanted to tug her into my body and hug her. All the drama of this weekend had surely taken a lot out of her, but she was still so kind.
“Once we finish, I was hoping we could chat for a few minutes, establish some ground rules.”
I gave her an easy nod. I’d agree to anything right now. I was here, and we were doing this. Although the circumstances were pretty wild, this felt like a fresh start.
After the boxes were piled up in my new bedroom, I headed out to the living room and sat in an oversized armchair.
I fidgeted on the cushion, working up the nerve to check in on how she was really feeling. “You still okay with me moving in?”
She nodded. “Course. I’ve got the space, and I’m never home.” She pushed a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “I don’t mind having a roommate.”
“I won’t get in your way,” I promised. “I can help too.”
She’d already said yes, and I’d moved my stuff in, but I couldn’t help but feel like I should reassure her that I wouldn’t cause any more trouble. That I was worth the risk.
“I’ll cook. Debbie has been teaching me,” I offered. “My peanut butter cookies are next level. And I can do laundry. She’s domesticated me.”
A zing of pride worked its way through me. Debbie was loving and kind, but from day one, she’d made it clear there was to be no freeloading. Nope, she had me mowing the lawn, cleaning gutters, and washing my own socks within twenty-four hours of moving in, even while I was recovering from surgery.
And I liked feeling useful. While I doubted Willa would want to be waited on hand and foot—though I didn’t know her well, she’d always been a very self-sufficient person—the least I could do was help out.
She rubbed her hands together, a small smile playing at her lips. “That’s sweet but unnecessary for this kind of arrangement.”
“Maybe so. Guess I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been in a fake marriage before.”
She huffed out a laugh. “Technically, I think this is a marriage of convenience.”
“Is that right?” I asked, grinning. “And there’s a difference?”
“Yes.” Her tone was so matter-of-fact. “If we’re looking at tropes, we’re married for real, not only faking it. And it’s for convenience.”
“Fair enough.”
“So I think a clear set of guidelines and expectations is appropriate, given the circumstances.”
I nodded once, resting my elbows on the armrests and lacing my fingers. “Of course. Whatever you want.”
“For example. How long are we going to stay married? I’m trying to find a lawyer that doesn’t know anyone in Lovewell to help with the annulment process.”
That was a good question. With the madness that came after our marriage, we’d yet to even think through the timing.
“What do you think? Six months? A year?”
“I really don’t know.” She worried her lip. “I figure we shoot for six months? Check in every few weeks to make sure we’re both okay with how it’s going? Six months would get us into spring. By then, hopefully my dad will have made a lot of improvements. So that could work.”
“Hopefully I’ll have a job lined up and be moving, anyway.”
She twisted the ends of her hair, her nervous tell, I’d discovered. “And I’ll be more established and organized at work and be taking better care of myself.”
I smiled at her. It was impressive, how committed she was to this town and her patients.
“Let me know what the lawyer needs. I hope you know I won’t take anything from you.”
“Are you talking about money?” She laughed and then laughed some more, her head thrown back. “I don’t have any money,” she said, wiping a tear from her left eye. “I’m up to my eyeballs in student debt. I would have made more bartending than I did as a medical resident. If you married me for money, you are in trouble.”
“I didn’t marry you for money,” I said, sitting up straighter.
She waved me off. “Oh, I know. We were wasted.”
“Yes we were. But I also married you because I was intrigued by you and got swept up in the moment.”
“So…”
I leaned forward, my forearms on my knees. “So, I’m happy to stay married to you. I like hanging out with you. And I think we can help one another. You’re a good influence.”
“Me?” she scoffed. “The girl who got drunk married in Vegas?”
I huffed. Her tendency to talk down about herself like this irked me.
“You are complex, Dr. Willa Savard,” I said, maintaining eye contact so she knew I meant it. “But you are driven, focused, and ambitious. You’ve achieved a lot in your thirty years. I’d be lucky to be your temporary husband.”
One corner of her mouth quirked, but that was the only reaction she gave me. I had a feeling she was not in the habit of being flattered, and I wanted to change that.
“Okay, okay. I get it,” she finally said, dismissing my compliments. “But you need to promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
“Radical honesty.” She tilted her head and assessed me quietly while the words sank in. “This will only work if we’re totally honest with one another all the time. I mean it. I’m going to call you out on your bullshit.”
Amusement mixed with a little apprehension flitted through me. Still, I nodded. “I welcome it.”
“Did you mean all that stuff you told me in Vegas? That you want to grow and find your purpose?” She cocked a brow expectantly, but she didn’t wait for a response before she went on. “If I find you unshowered and playing video games on my couch, I’m going to let you have it.”
Fiery. I liked this side of her. “Excellent. I’m all for it.”
“And, if I’m not sleeping, if I’m eating crap and neglecting my life outside doctoring—”
I held up a hand in promise. “Then I will sound the alarm.”
“Good.” She nodded succinctly.
“Maybe, together, we can become functional adults.”
“Here’s to trying. Hopefully we can make it work.”
I didn’t know whether it was the late hour or how cute she looked in her sweats, but a surge of affection for Willa swamped me. Along with the desire to give her anything she wanted, honestly.
“We’ll make it work,” I said. “I don’t want to fail again. At least not right now. RiverFest was a win, and for the first time in a long time, people are treating me decently. I am slowly earning back the respect of my brothers. And having a quickie marriage followed by a subsequent divorce and having messed up Owen and Lila’s engagement weekend for nothing? That’s old Cole. I want to be new Cole.”
I wasn’t in the habit of being so vulnerable. But she wanted honesty, and I wanted to be the best damn husband I could be, even if it was only for six months.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I won’t let you down either. There’s nothing I hate more than disappointing people. And while we may not live happily ever after, sitting side by side in rocking chairs while yelling at squirrels in fifty years, we can still take this time together and come out better.”
She was right. This may have started as a drunken fuck-up, but maybe we could learn and grow from this experience. And looking at her, I knew the last thing I wanted to do was let her down.