Chapter 7
seven
JORDAN
It’s just as unbelievable as it is official—I have a wife.
Even more unbelievable, Marilee is my wife.
Fake wife. I know that. But a wife all the same.
It’s several hours after our wedding ceremony, and all kinds of thoughts and memories swirl around me where I sit on the couch, my right knee bouncing as I attempt to watch a football game. The TV is on low, so I can hear Marilee banging around down the hall, presumably getting things arranged and situated in my bedroom.
Well, now it’s her bedroom for the next year.
I’ll keep my clothes and toiletries in there but made plenty of space in the dresser and closet for Lee’s things. But the bed… It’s all hers. Good thing I sprung for the extra comfy couch when I bought the leather number underneath me, because we are going to become fast friends each and every night. I don’t mind, though. Not if it means Marilee is comfortable.
The air feels sticky even though I peeled off my suit jacket the first chance I got, so I stand and crack open the back door, which leads to a small grassy yard littered with a scooter, a kid-sized basketball hoop, a tee and whiffle ball. The matching bat’s nowhere to be found. Probably buried somewhere in my son’s room. A breeze cools my face as I run my hands through my hair and take in the chaos of toys. My heart pinches at the sight—at the thought that I could have lost this. But now, thanks to Marilee, my attorney is confident that I won’t.
Sam was overjoyed when we called him this afternoon to relay the news of our marriage. He still thinks this is the ace in the pocket we need to convince the judge there are no legs to Constance and Larry’s petition. I sure hope he’s right.
There’s a noise behind me, and I turn to find Lee at the kitchen counter, grabbing a handful of popcorn. She’s dressed in a pair of red-checkered flannel pants, an oversized T-shirt that hangs slightly off one shoulder, and Rudolph slippers on her feet. Her hair is piled on top of her head, but for a moment, I’m returned to the memory of this afternoon, when it flowed freely down her back. When, so help me, I couldn’t resist allowing my fingers to graze the silken strands as I led her to the proverbial altar.
She just looked so beautiful. I mean, she always does—she does right now, in her pajamas—but there was just something about knowing she was there, all dressed up…for me.
Though actually, it was for Ryder. And that’s an important distinction. Something I need to remember.
Even if my son wasn’t there today—we didn’t want to create a core memory that would be confusing later when Marilee and I decide to go our separate ways, so my mom watched him all day, and he’s there overnight too—he’s the reason for all of this.
Though I swear, today, the way Marilee looked at me during the ceremony…
It was almost as if she saw me the way I’ve always seen her.
Shoot. That’s some wishful thinking there. Wishful…and dangerous.
“Hey.” I leave the door open behind me as I join her in the kitchen. “You all settled in?”
Squeaking, she drops a few kernels of popcorn. “You scared me!”
I chuckle. “Sorry.” Walking back around to the couch, which I’ve already arranged with a few pillows and quilts, I sink back into the cushions. “So? Need anything else?”
She plops down beside me, bowl of popcorn in hand. “I don’t think so.” Her fingers travel along the patches of the quilt my grandma made before she passed. “I still feel bad you’re staying out here.”
“Nah, it’s fine.”
She throws a kernel at my head. “Your back is going to be killing you after a week or two.”
“You know I tent camp on the hard ground several nights a week when I’m taking groups out on tours, right?” Picking up the discarded kernel, I toss it in the air and catch it in my mouth.
“I know, but…” She huffs, and her glasses steam momentarily. Removing them, she cleans them with the edge of her shirt, giving me the tiniest glimpse of the pale white skin above the rim of her pants.
I glance away. “There aren’t any good alternatives. I don’t want Ryder to lose his room—that’s sure to get back to Constance and Larry. And I’m not making you share either. I want your new home to be as comfortable as possible.”
“I know. I still feel bad, though.”
“Don’t. You’re helping me out of a jam. It’s worth it.”
“You’re helping me too.” Sighing, she grows quiet, and I don’t have much else to say, so I turn up the volume on the TV and watch the Rams get crushed by the 49ers, over and over again.
Marilee lays her head back against the couch cushion and, grabbing her phone, flips to an e-book app—probably to read the latest novel by Abigail Fox, her favorite romance author. I love that she’ll sit here with me even if she doesn’t care at all about sports.
At halftime, I stand to refill the popcorn bowl, which I’ve demolished, when there’s a knock on my door. “Did you invite anyone over?”
Her head pops up over the back of the couch. “No.”
I set the bowl on the counter, stride toward the front door, and look through the peephole, but it’s dark. Covered. Are the neighbor kids being obnoxious again? I fling open the door. “Gotcha!”
But instead of surprised teens, I find an entire group of friends spread out on my front lawn. A chorus of voices cries out, “Congratulations!”
Broad-shouldered Landon Bennett and Blake have got a banner stretched between them, brunette twins Kelsey and Elisse Loveland—along with Lucy and her cousin April Reynolds—are carrying platters of food. And former bodyguard Frederick Shaw and his newly affianced Princess Chloe Huntington flank them all, carrying bottles of wine.
“Uh.” It’s all I can say, because what in the world? “Lee?”
She appears at my elbow, wrapped in one of my quilts. Her eyes are wide. “What are you guys doing?”
“We are here to celebrate your nuptials,” Chloe says in her British-like accent as she looks at Lucy beside her. “A little bird told us the two of you finally got married.”
Finally, huh? Geez. Subtle, Chloe.
Lucy flashes us an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I know they weren’t our beans to spill, but Chloe can be very scary when she’s sniffing out a secret.”
“What can I say? It’s a gift.” The princess, who is all dignity and grace, holds up the wine and flutes in her hand. “Now, can we come inside, please? Since you insisted on leaving us out of the actual ceremony, we insist on throwing you a bit of a last-minute wedding shower.”
“Um, sure. Come in, come in.” Marilee waves to our friends, who rush forward and give us hugs.
Within seconds, everyone is inside. Food and drinks have been set on the counter, and Elisse has gone through my cabinets to find plates and napkins. Now all of our friends surround us, their eyes wide, expectant.
“Well?” April, who at five feet nothing is even shorter than Marilee, pushes her red bangs out of her eyes before brandishing a hand on her hip. “What gives, guys? How did this happen? When? Was it a secret romance?” She sighs happily. “Friends to lovers is my absolute favorite trope.”
From what Marilee has told me, April—an aspiring author and avid reader—is always seeing things in story form, not reality.
“So. Um.” I clear my throat. “The little bird who informed you of our marriage should have also told you that our marriage is…not exactly conventional.”
“Exactly.” Marilee twists her hands in front of her body. A nervous laugh titters out of her. “Jordan’s custody of Ryder was questioned and?—”
“Oh, the little bird did tell us all of that, including the fact that the reason for it is a secret.” Elisse moves behind the kitchen island and begins to remove the foil from the dishes, shooing Landon out of the way as she goes. “But we all thought maybe it was just an excuse to finally be together without having to admit your true feelings.”
I groan inwardly. Leave it to Elisse…
“Geez, woman.” Landon reaches around her and pulls a chip from the bag she’s just opened, dipping it into what looks like Elisse’s famous homemade guacamole. “Have a little tact.” He shoves the chip into his mouth and groans.
“Look who’s talking. You wouldn’t know tact if it hit you in the face.”
They start bickering, the rest of the group dives into the food, and it looks like I owe Landon big time for distracting everyone from Elisse’s question. Our friends stay for a few hours—the guys watching the rest of the game with me, the ladies gathered in the kitchen talking about Chloe and Frederick’s upcoming engagement party on Friday night and a variety of other topics I’m not privy to.
We work as a group to devour the plates of brownies, seven-layer dip, and taco bar they brought over, but eventually, they start shuffling out the door, shouting once again their “congratulations” and winking that they’re excited to keep our secret.
After Blake practically carries an exhausted Lucy to their car, I shut the door and lean back against it. Marilee’s over in the corner of the room, looking up at the Christmas tree I haven’t had the heart to take down, because I know how much she loves it.
The room rings with the sudden quiet.
Shoving my hands into my pockets, I approach. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“You okay?”
“Mmm hmm.” She spins the new ring on her left hand.
My heart stutters at the sight. “Liar.”
That causes a tiny smile to appear. “I’m just processing everything that happened today.” Her forehead wrinkles. “Do you think we made a mistake?”
“Lee, I hope you don’t feel pushed into this. I never wanted that.”
“It was my idea, remember?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed.”
She bites her thumbnail before blowing out a tremulous breath. “Until now, we’ve been in our bubble about this, only telling Blake and Lucy. But now, people are going to have their opinions, and we’re going to have to let all the townspeople think that we’re…”
I hate that she seems bothered by that, but Marilee’s the most honest person I know. “I wondered if you would have a problem lying to people.”
“I’m hoping that most people will just make assumptions, and we won’t have to lie. I can tell them I love you, because I do. They don’t have to know I mean as a friend, right?”
And I’ll admit—her words are a dagger to my heart. Because if I had any hope that Marilee saw me differently, her declaration crushes it into dust. “Yeah. Right.” My gaze latches onto an ornament made of popsicle sticks in the shape of a picture frame. The dried glue is clumpy and the sticks are crooked, but it’s perfect, because nestled inside the frame, a photo of Ryder grins back at me. “We just have to stay focused on our reasons for doing this and not let other people’s opinions get in the way. It’s not their business, Lee.”
“You’re right.” She leans her head against my upper arm. Her vanilla scent wafts upward, and the back of my hand brushes hers. It takes everything I have not to take hold of it, to weave our fingers together. But I’m going to have to ignore a thousand such impulses over the next year.
I thought I’d built up an immunity to the effect Marilee has on me, but living with her, being around her constantly, is going to test that resolve in a major way.
I reach out to straighten an ornament she gave me on my first Christmas with Ryder. It’s one of those wooden figurine ornaments of a dad holding a new baby. “That being said, if you regret this?—”
“No.” The word is solid, punctuating the air with certainty and force.
“You sure?”
“I’m really tired of people asking me that.” Her voice holds a tease, and I’m glad for the levity, however small.
“Sorry. It’s just you asked me if we made a mistake. I mean, maybe we did. Either way, it doesn’t really matter what I think.” I pull away slightly and turn her shoulders so she’s facing me. “If you feel like we did, that’s enough for us to march ourselves right to the courthouse and get an annulment. I would never trap you in this, Lee. But if you’re in it, so am I.”
Her face softens, and she launches herself into my arms. “Thank you for having my back, and for giving me a choice.”
“Always.” I hug her tight to my chest. I want to say more, to scream that I’m not Donny and never will be. But some part of me wonders if by marrying Marilee, I’m taking advantage of her, if I’m being selfish like he was. “And we’re going to make sure this marriage is a good thing for both of us, okay? So if you decide you’re ready to secure that loan, I’ll go with you to the bank and cosign on the dotted line. Have you decided yet?”
“Well.” Her arms squeeze my torso before releasing me, retreating a bit into herself as she hugs her own chest. “Marla asked me if I had any updates in my thinking yesterday during my shift.”
“And?” I start collecting dishes from around my living room, tossing the used paper products in the garbage and placing others next to the sink to deal with in the morning.
She follows me to the kitchen, filling the sink with hot, soapy water. “I told her I was still figuring out the loan stuff, and she said she didn’t want to wait forever.”
“So you’ve decided to go for it, then?” I set more dirty dishes on the counter beside her.
She plunges a bowl into the suds and scrubs. “I think so.” With the back of her hand, she tries to push away a few strands of hair that are stuck behind her glasses.
“Here. Let me.” Without a second thought, I reach out. Her skin is oh so soft where my fingertips lightly graze her forehead as I tuck the hair behind her ear.
And I am a weak man, because my hand lingers there, cupping her ear as I get lost in her eyes. As if it’s got a mind of its own, my thumb takes its dear sweet time skimming its way from the top of her ear, down the edge, all the way to the perfectly shaped lobe, where my thumb and forefinger rest on opposite sides.
My breathing stutters.
I’ve touched Marilee a thousand times before. But something about standing here in the stillness of my kitchen—now our kitchen—at midnight in the half-dim room, with moonlight streaming in through the windows, makes the air between us vibrate on a different current.
“Jay?” she whispers, her voice thick. “Are you okay?”
Shoot. I force my hand down and take a step backward.
She stares at me, her mouth slightly gaping. So much for self-control and resistance. Get it together, Jordan. I need to refocus, to remember that just because a few things have changed—like Marilee’s address and the fact our names are linked on paper—doesn’t mean that everything ’s changed.
I clear my throat. “Yeah, of course. Everything’s fine.”
Everything except the fact I might be falling even more in love with my best friend than ever before.
And that is not the bargain we’ve struck.