Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
SLOANE
“No sex for me,” I say as Stacey takes a seat on Hudson’s bed.
“Uh, should I be upset about that?” Stacey asks as she smooths her hand over the fluffy comforter. “Jesus, this is rich.”
“You should be upset about it,” I say as I fold my laundry on the floor in front of her, preparing for the trip to London. We leave tomorrow, and after living like zombies who don’t speak to each other for the last two days, I’m looking forward to getting the hell out of here.
“Why would I be upset about it? Isn’t it good not complicating things between you and Hudson?”
I fold one of my lace bras and look up at my sister. “We’re married. Pretty sure it doesn’t get more complicated than that.”
“The marriage is a piece of paper. It really doesn’t mean that much. A true marriage is built on love and the life you form together. You guys haven’t built anything together other than a fantastic lie.”
“I understand that, but I’m just…I’m frustrated.”
“Why?” Stacey asks. “I thought the whole point of getting married was to buy the house.” She picks up her phone and says, “Which we need to leave now if we’re going to get to our meeting about said house on time.” She flashes me her phone, showing me the time, and she’s right. We don’t want to be late.
I stand from the floor, leaving the laundry where it is. I grab a pair of jean shorts from the pile, slip off my sweats, and pull those on before tucking in my shirt. I finish the look with a hat and then slip on my Birkenstocks.
“Ready,” I say and move out of the bedroom, Stacey following me.
We head down the stairs and I’m about to respond to her when I see Hudson walk through the garage door, surprising me. It’s early. He’s not supposed to be home yet.
“Uh, hi,” I say. “What are you doing here?”
The tension between us immediately sucks all the air from the room as his eyes travel up and down my body, like they always do, as if he needs to mentally approve what I’m wearing.
When I say we’ve been walking around like zombies the last two days, I’m not kidding. We haven’t spoken to each other, we’ve barely acknowledged one another, and when we have, it’s been curt sentences.
There’s anger simmering.
Irritation.
A lack of understanding.
It’s a recipe for disaster for two people who are attempting to act like they’re in love.
Hudson tears his eyes off me when he notices Stacey to the side. “Hey, Stacey.”
Stacey looks between us, clearly sensing the awkward and uncomfortable tone as she says, “Hey, Hudson. How’s my favorite brother-in-law?”
Leave it to Stacey to push the limits.
Hudson visibly looks uncomfortable as he says, “Fine.”
“Why are you here?” I repeat.
His eyes move back to mine as he says, “I live here.”
“Yes, but you work in the office. Shouldn’t you be on the phone, ignoring me?”
Hudson’s eyes narrow. “I’m meeting Hardy and wanted to change because I’m going to the gym after. That answer good enough for you? Or do you need more of an explanation? ”
“Ooh,” Stacey whispers in the background.
“That explanation will suffice.”
I head toward the front door, and he calls out, “Where are you going? Shouldn’t you be packing?”
“I should,” I say and keep walking toward the entrance.
“Are you done?” Hudson asks.
“You’ll find out when you go upstairs.” I nod toward the door. “Come on, Stacey.”
I’m about to exit the house when he says, “Want to be treated like an adult, Sloane? Then act like one.”
That pauses me midstep because where the hell did that come from? As far as I know, I’m the one actually communicating, unlike him.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me,” he says.
Did this man really come into this house guns blazing, ready to pick a fight?
I forget that my sister is even here as I march right up to Hudson and stand toe to toe with him. “We have a very long trip ahead of us, Husband. I suggest you try to get along with me, rather than start more turmoil between us, because if anything, I’m the one trying to grow this relationship, not you.”
His jaw grows tense as he stares down at me, a comeback on the tip of his tongue. Finally he says, “When will you be home?”
“I don’t know.” I turn away from him, but he grabs my hand and spins me back, right into his brawny chest.
“Will you be here for dinner?”
My mouth goes dry as his eyes zero in, those beautiful, sultry eyes of his. And I hate this. I hate that he has this power over me. That in an instant, he can steal all the air from my lungs.
“Don’t plan on it,” I say, my voice going shaky.
His hand connects with my neck and then slowly works up to my jaw, where he tilts my chin up with his thumb. “Make sure you come back.”
“You’re making that less and less likely,” I respond right before he leans down and presses a kiss to my nose.
The mark of death of this relationship: the nose kiss.
With that, he takes off up the stairs, leaving me in an irritated state.
As I approach Stacey, she says, “That was…intense.”
Tell me about it—my legs are feeling like Jell-O at the moment.
“Come on.” I take off down the front stairs to the street, where Stacey has the car parked.
“I mean, the iciness in there, combined with the obvious sexual tension, I mean wow. And for a second, I thought he was going to banish you from the house, but then he threw me for a loop and did that nose-kiss thing. Is that like…something special?”
“No,” I say as I get in her car, and she does the same. As we buckle up, I continue, “It’s a sarcastic gesture that is a subtle way of reminding the other that what we have means nothing.”
“Uh-huh, from the tension and anger, I can sense that you want something with him.”
“No,” I say, folding my arms.
“From the way spittle flew out of your mouth on that no, I’m going to assume you mean the opposite.”
Groaning, I lean my head back while Stacey pulls into the street. “I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to it, but that tempting and teasing, that’s more to just…I don’t know, get him to break.”
“He’s not breaking.”
“I know, Stacey.” I groan and sink into my seat as she starts driving. “You know, when I decided on all of this, there was a part of me that thought maybe he would rub off on me.”
“Eww, gross.”
“No, not like that,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “I mean, he’s so business-minded, smart, knows what he wants with his life, has a direction. And I don’t know, a piece of me thought that I would learn from him. I mean, I did this big risky thing, and I’m no further along in my life than where I started.”
“It’s been a week.”
“Yeah, a week of nothing,” I say. “I hate to admit it, but I really don’t think I like myself at the moment. This…this isn’t the person I normally am. I’m all thrown off. I never should have suggested we get married.”
She brakes at a stoplight and turns toward me. “You have a lot going for you, Sloane.”
“Yeah, name one thing.”
“You get to go to London. We are about to sign the paperwork for the house. Things are happening.”
“Still feel unsettled.”
“I can sense that.” She pauses for a moment and then quietly says, “We can always go back. We haven’t used the check yet. We can return it and, well…move on.”
I shake my head. “No, we’re not giving the check back. I’m still married. I’m going to see this through.”
“Okay, but it seems like you’re a little crazed right now.”
“I am,” I say, feeling all kinds of unwell.
“Maybe you tell me about it then.”
I tug on my hair. “I’m just…” I press my lips together, irritated with my feelings. “I don’t think I’m mature enough to handle this situation.”
And that truth causes Stacey to let out a roar of a laugh. “Oh, the irony.”
“Can you not?” I stare out the window, unable to look my sister in the eye. “It’s bad enough I’m realizing it. I don’t need you laughing at me.”
“And there you were, bitching that he’s calling you immature, too young, your hot-button words, and you believe him. Wow, that’s really rich. Are you going to tell him?”
“Have you lost your mind?” I nearly yell at my sister. “No, I’m not going to tell him. God, the gloating, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. I need some help. I need like a crash course on handling this kind of situation.”
“I don’t think they make a book that gives you a rundown on how to handle a situation like this. I mean, we can go to the bookstore after the bank and see if there is a self-help section, but temporary marriage of convenience isn’t a very popular everyday life choice.”
“I don’t need a book. I just need…I need to talk about it, get in the right frame of mind. Isn’t there some wisdom you can impart on me?”
“This is kind of out of my wheelhouse, but you know”—she taps her chin—“I actually might have someone you can talk to.”
“Who?” I ask.
She smiles. “You’ll see. Let’s sign the papers first, and then I’ll have them meet us at the house. This might be incredibly helpful.”
“Should I be scared?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Is this weird?” I ask.
Stacey stares up at the living room ceiling with me, both of us with champagne in mugs, a pizza between the both of us half-eaten, her crusts waiting to be composted, mine fully consumed.
“Is what weird?” she asks.
“That we are technically lying here, in a house that we somewhat own?”
“Maybe a little,” she says as she rolls over to look at me. “I didn’t think we would ever be in this position.”
“Of buying a house?” I ask.
“Yes, and where Jude actually left us to live his own life. Where he did something for himself, rather than always thinking about us.”
“He still thinks about us.”
“He does, but he also has given us freedom from his protection, not always keeping track of us. When Gran passed away, he was adamant about making sure we were always taken care of, and now that he’s living with Haisley, it feels weird but wonderful. I’m happy for him, I’m happy for us.”
“Same,” I say as I pick up one of her pieces of crust and take a bite. “Do you think Gran would be proud of all of us?”
Stacey shrugs her shoulders. “I want to say yes, but her feelings about us were always complicated in a way.”
“Like that we were a burden she had to take on when Mom died?” I ask, saying the words out loud that we’ve never really spoken about before.
“Yeah,” she says softly.
“We might have been a burden,” I say. “But I still think there were moments when she was proud of us.”
“Maybe,” Stacey says and then smiles at me. “Remember the first time Jude brought us here and the carpet was maroon and looked like several people had died on it?”
I laugh and nod my head. “He ripped the carpet out immediately, then went to Walmart and bought us all slippers to wear while walking around on the plywood floors. That roll of carpet lived out on the back patio for months because he didn’t want the landlord to know.”
“And the first night, that scratching noise.”
“Mr. Whiskers,” I say, remembering the rat that was rummaging through the walls at night. “And the hole Jude plowed through the wall trying to punch the thing dead. It’s a good thing he was into construction and home repair.” I look around the renovated space that we created ourselves.
It took a while and some growing pains along the way, but we put a lot of love into this home, a home that wasn’t officially ours but one we made our own—one Stacey and I didn’t want to let go.
“You know, this feels really big. We need to do something special with this house,” I say .
“What do you mean?”
I shrug. “I don’t know yet, but I feel like this is more than just buying the house. There’s more to this story.”
“Well, when you figure it out, will you let me in on the plot?”
“Absolutely.”
Stacey sighs and says, “You know, I’m proud of us and your whore-ish ways.”
“Whore-ish ways?” I laugh. “Where the hell did that come from?”
“Well, without you selling your body for us, we wouldn’t be here right now, on a track to own our house.”
“I did not sell my body. I sold my soul. There’s a difference. If I sold my body, I’d at least be satisfied right now. Instead, I’m cranky and irritable, with a husband who likes to push my buttons.”
“Please, you push his more. Dressing up in nothing but an apron was evil. May as well have worn devil horns with the getup.”
“I had a thong on.”
“I don’t see how that makes a difference.”
“Makes a little bit of one, as I can say I wasn’t fully naked.”
Stacey rolls her eyes. “Either way, you’re both pushing each other’s buttons.”
Knock, knock.
“Ooh, that must be her, right on time,” Stacey says.
“Care to tell me exactly who it is?” I ask.
Stacey gets up from the floor and moves toward the door, not answering me. When she opens it, a blond with short, early 2000s Kate Gosselin–type hair walks in. Her purple glasses are huge, covering nearly half of her face, and her vagina-shaped earrings are both fascinating and somewhat off-putting at the same time. The realism is a bit much.
Why all the folds?
“Melva, it’s good to see you,” Stacey says, pulling her into a hug .
Melva? When did my sister ever become friends with a Melva? What has she been doing behind my back?
“So good to see you,” Melva says, squeezing Stacey tight. When she slowly—and I mean slowly—pulls away, her hand grazes over my sister’s shoulder and down her arm, and Melva smiles lovingly at her, as if…as if there is history there.
Umm, what’s going on here?
Stacey turns toward me and says, “Sloane, this is Melva. Melva, this is my sister, Sloane.”
I step up to the eccentric woman and take her hand in mine. “Nice to meet you.”
“Such a pleasure. I always love being in the presence of twins.”
That’s…that’s a weird thing to say.
“Well.” I clasp my hands together. “Glad I could make a lifelong dream come true.”
She chuckles. “Ooh, she is funny.” She touches my sister’s face. “Funny and sweet, what a nice combination.”
Uhhh, what’s going on here? What kind of lady of the night is Melva? Because she’s giving off those kind of vibes.
“Don’t pump her up too much,” Stacey says. “She’ll run with it.”
“Very true,” I say, humoring my sister but then getting down to business. “So how do you two know each other?” I motion my finger between the two of them.
“A mutual friend,” Melva says as she walks up to the pizza box on the floor, picks up a piece of pizza, and takes a bite before sitting on the couch, crossing one leg over the other.
Help yourself, wasn’t planning on eating that.
“Mutual friend, that’s fun,” I say. “So, uh, can I ask why you brought Melva here, to eat our pizza and touch you in interesting ways?”
“Sloane,” Stacey chastises, but I don’t even care because this lady is weird. Not to mention, she’s older .
Like…thirty years older than us, easily.
She’s at least in her fifties.
“What? Just pointing out the obvious.”
“I hear that you’re in a marriage of convenience,” Melva says.
“Yes.”
“So am I,” Melva says with a smile.
“Oh, I thought…Stacey, you said you didn’t know anyone in a marriage of convenience.”
“With my characters,” Melva continues. “You see, I’m an author, and I know all about the marriage-of-convenience trope. Quite popular.”
My expression falls, and I turn toward my sister. “You’re kidding me, right? You brought someone who writes fiction for a living to tell me how to handle my very real situation?”
“Fiction is always the child of some sort of reality,” Stacey says. “She might have some really good advice. At least you can listen—she’s the closest thing we have to advice.”
“I discuss personalities and human characteristics on the daily,” Melva says. “I can very much help.” She takes another bite of the pizza and smiles broadly.
“At least hear her out,” Stacey says.
This is stupid, but do I really have any other options at the moment? Not really, so looks like I’m about to take some advice from Melva with the vagina earrings.
“Okay.” I take a seat in the chair across from Melva and say, “Impart your wisdom on me.”
“First, please tell me more about this man you married.”
“Well, is this confidential? Because it’s very important that this stays here, in this house.”
“You have my utmost discretion,” Melva says, her hand to her chest as Stacey takes a seat next to Melva on the couch.
“It’s appreciated,” I say, almost feeling like I’m making some sort of weird deal with her. “Um, so his name is Rossell.” Stacey’s nose quirks to the side, but luckily, she doesn’t say anything. There’s no way I’m giving away real names to Melva. Can’t trust anyone with that kind of haircut.
“Rossell, a solid, strapping name.”
“Very,” I say. “And that’s what he is, solid, strapping, extremely attractive. Maybe one of the most attractive men I’ve ever met.”
“Ahh, I can see where this is going. You’re married, and you want to push the boundaries of the original agreement.”
“I mean, yes, why not have a little fun with it? The marriage was for a business deal, and I assumed that we would grow closer, get to know each other better. But he wants nothing to do with that. So I thought we could at least have some fun while in this purgatory, since I find him attractive and he finds me attractive. But he refuses to partake in that as well. Won’t even budge on his decision no matter how hard I try, but then he does things like puts his hand on my thigh when we’re in the car, and it’s all very confusing.”
Melva nods her head. “Let me ask, what do you want to get out of this?”
“I got money,” I answer.
“No, what else do you want to get out of this? I understand the initial trade that occurred, but is there more you want?”
“I mean, we are going to London together. We have to act like we’re married in front of a lot of people. He can be very affectionate in a way that I wasn’t expecting, and it’s…it’s going to be hard sharing a hotel room with him where I’m not allowed to play around, even though I’m going to desperately want to. I just want to…enjoy myself while I have the chance and, when this is all over, just move on.”
“Do you think you can do that? Move on?” Melva asks.
“Of course,” I answer. “I’ve never been really emotionally attached to anyone besides my family. I don’t think it’ll be a problem at all. Plus, as much as I think Rossell is hot and I want to see him naked, I know for a fact that he’s also not the relationship type. So there’re no feelings there.”
“This is purely carnal?”
“Yes,” I say.
Melva nods. “And what’s the holdup?”
“Our brother,” I answer. “They’re friends and well, he doesn’t want to ruin that relationship. Not to mention, he thinks I’m too young.”
“Aww, good plot, good plot.” Melva nods her head, as if she’s seeing a book come to life right in front of her. “And what have you done to try to get him to break?”
“Nearly everything short of actually making a move, and I fear the way he’s been acting, he might ask me to put clothes on, and I don’t think my confidence can take that hit.”
“And he’s still not budging?”
“Nope,” I say.
“Well then, there’s only one thing left to do.”
“What?” I ask, feeling like I’m about to be blessed with the golden key to all answers.
“Nothing,” Melva says and then bites her pizza.
My hope for an answer tumbles to the ground.
Nothing?
That’s her grand plan? Her smart idea? For me to do nothing?
Did she mention if she was a bestselling author? Because I would not read that book.
So glad Stacey brought her here to eat our pizza and offer nothing of value.
“Wow, solid advice,” I say with an edge to my tone. “Stacey and I never would have thought of that.”
Stacey turns toward Melva and says, “You’ll have to excuse my sister. She can be an ass when she’s horny.”
“I can sense her aura.” Melva waves her hand at me. Motioning to my head, she says, “Very red in the brain.” Then she moves her hand to the southern part of my body and says, “Very blue in the crotch.”
I place my hands over my lap. “Please don’t call my crotch blue…or say crotch . It’s a gross word.”
“Sorry, your vaginal walls are very blue.”
“Okay, wasn’t looking for a gynecological exam here.” I go to stand. “It was nice meeting you, but I should get back to my husband.”
“So you can continue to be frustrated? You realize if your vaginal walls turn purple, it’s the end for you.”
“You realize that what you’re saying is not actually a thing?” I look at Stacey and say, “I love you, but this was weird.”
“Sit down, Sloane. Let her explain,” Stacey says in an exhausted tone.
“She did explain. She said I should do nothing. How is that helpful?”
“If you let me elaborate, then you would understand,” Melva says, examining her pizza before taking a bite. “So sit. Let me turn your vaginal walls from blue to burning red.”
Wow.
Out of pure curiosity to see what this nutcase has to say, I take a seat. “By all means, please, heat up my vaginal walls.”
Smiling, she tosses her crust on the pizza box, brushes off her hands, and then folds them in her lap. “You’re doing too much, trying too hard. This will only lead to frustration on your part, and why should you be the one who is frustrated over the male brain? It’s not fair to you.”
Okay, yeah, I can agree with that, so I let her proceed.
“You’re trying every trick in the book, and nothing is working, which means, he’s a different kind of breed. You need to try the less is better approach. You need to play along, so he’s looking for affection, begging for you to pay attention to him. You’ve almost primed him at this point, to want to wait for you. Now he needs to see you disinterested. He needs to know what it’s like when you don’t pay him attention, when you’re indifferent to the situation. ”
Shit…that’s a good idea. I don’t want to admit it, but God, it’s actually really smart.
“You will break him because, if I know men like I know my heroes, they’re not going to appreciate going unnoticed. And when you must be together, when you need to put on a show, that’s when you give him a taste of what he’s missing out on. But when you are alone together with no onlookers, you are unengaged, offering him nothing of your personality. Give him very little.”
Stacey looks my way with a smile in her eyes as I think about this intriguing advice, something I never would have thought of—hell, my next move was going to climb into his lap at night, completely naked, and just start dry humping him, probably only to be rejected. But this…this feels genius. This feels mature.
Might I say…demure…mindful…
“Okay,” I say, trying to hold back my conniving smile. “This feels…this feels brilliant.”
Melva picks at her front tooth. “It’s why they call me the plot fairy. I know how to twist and turn the lives of my characters.”
“I guess so.” I stand again. “Well, I guess I should go try it out, see what the husband has to think about my negligence.”
Melva shakes her head. “No, dear, you are not.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you are not to rush home to him. You owe him nothing. You stay out as late as you want. Make him wait, make him wonder, make him wish that you were home with him.”
“That is…that is even more devious.”
She taps the side of her head. “Not just a rack for vulva earrings.”
“Not even a little. Which I must say, love the earrings, very…labia-like.”
“Thank you. I saw you eyeing them.”
“How could you not,” I say to my new best friend. “They’re vaginas.”
“You’re right, and who doesn’t love a vagina? ”
“Not me,” I say, raising my hand. “Sheesh, where are our manners? Can I get you a drink?”
Stacey rolls her eyes, probably hating my change of tune.
“No, but I would love some ice cream.”
“Ooof, we don’t have any,” I say.
“Doesn’t mean you can’t order some. We have time.”
A large smile crosses my face. “You are right. We have plenty of time.”