Chapter 20 Warm Insides
warm insides
Lorien
Done sulking, I wipe the tears from my face and reenter the house.
The island still holds the plate of cookies, but the paper is gone.
In its place are platter upon platter of taco fixings.
Steak and chicken, red and green bell peppers, pico de gallo, refried beans and black beans, grated cheese, sour cream, lettuce, and tomato.
There’s a bowl of chips and three different kinds of salsas, along with guacamole and queso.
Hard corn shells and soft flour tortillas round out the feast.
My stomach reminds me that it sounded good however long ago, and I’m no less hungry than I was when we arrived.
The room must know it because all eyes turn to me.
“Who are you?” The gorgeous teenager asks.
“Renée,” her mom scolds, all the while Liam studies my face.
“I’m Lorien. You must be Renée. Your mom and dad mentioned you were out with friends.”
She studies me before looking around the room. “What’s going on? This is so sus.”
“I’m your uncle’s—” I don’t know how to finish that sentence. As it stands, it’s vague and way too weirdly possessive.
“You met somebody?” She turns to him and gives him a high-five. Returning her gaze to me, she watches me. “You’ve been crying. Are you okay?”
“I will be.” I hope I’m telling this girl the truth.
She looks back to Liam before laying down the hammer. “She shouldn’t have been crying alone. Don’t make me put raisins in your cookies.”
He makes a face. “Don’t threaten me.”
“You don’t like raisins in your oatmeal cookies? I suspected as much. That’s probably because you haven’t had mine.”
He sputters a little and slices a smiling squint-eyed glare at his niece. “Traitor.”
“All’s fair in love and war.”
“Which is it?” he pipes back.
“Come on. It’s taco time.” She turns and bounces around the big island, opening the fridge and grabbing a fizzy water.
“Your White Claw got warm, so I pitched it.” A low gravelly voice whispers in my ear. “What do you want with your tacos?”
Tilting my head his way, I come face-to-face with the man still holding his nephew. How do I rectify the rough looking man with the sweet way he holds this innocent baby? “Beer. Or water.”
“You’ve got it.” He extends a hand, indicating I should go ahead of him, and rounds the island, just like Renée did for the fridge.
He pulls out two bottles without Wills ever being jostled and sets them down in front of me, twisting off one top and then the other, all one-handed. “Grab a plate and get some grub.”
I realize the three other Murphys have plates full and are digging in. I wander the island, trying to decide, and grabbing a bit of everything. Except the corn shells.
As if I never had a meltdown, as if the previous conversation never happened, the five of us chat and joke, talking about the week behind us and the week ahead.
I don’t mention my trip to Peoria. I do groan when I get my first bite of taco. And my second. Damn this is good. I haven’t had a meal that hit the spot like this since… Since the chili.
I’m so screwed.
I lean toward the man at my side, whispering to him, “I’m sorry I freaked out earlier. It was all”—I pause and take a deep breath, letting it go—“a bit much and I got overwhelmed.”
I watch goose bumps rise along his flesh and wonder if the beer is making him cold. Saying nothing, he nods and returns his gaze to his family.
Well, I guess that’s that.
Liam
I wasn’t worried. Well, maybe a little. The box in my pocket bounces dangerously near my balls and isn’t exactly returnable.
I’d never, aside from getting a rise out of her to get feisty Lorien to come out and play, make any wife of mine, fake or otherwise, wear a hexagonal nut from a hardware store as a ring.
The one I got for her should make up for the odd situation we’re in as long as we’re in it and provide a little extra nest egg when we’re out of it.
But bailing on our arrangement before we’ve actually arranged would add another thing to my to-do list and I’m already juggling more things than anyone knows. Pawning jewelry isn’t anywhere in the top ten.
She moaned when she took that first bite. And then again after. My dick took notice. By the time she whispers in my ear and sweet words, no less, I’m fighting a semi.
I’m thankful Cian went over the top with this huge slab of marble in his kitchen. It hides my situation from prying eyes.
Shit is so complicated. I’ve avoided complicated my whole life.
Dad was a mess. I turned eighteen, gave him the middle finger and moved out. Complication gone.
Women. Never for more than one night. No entanglements. Always a condom. Never bareback. Never. No possible problems.
Prying bosses and companies with shareholders, I don’t contract with them. One on one. I choose my clients. Legally tight documentation. Nothing to get tangled.
Now my family is interlacing with the neighbor who’s agreed to a fraudulent marriage. For me. I feel like Frodo in Shelob’s lair, tangled and twisted, stuck and sticky, certainly worried I’ll be drained… or worse.
She’s finished eating and she made a dent in what she took. I’m glad to see it. If her cheeks are anything to go by, she’s been losing weight. And she doesn’t need that. In fact, she needs a snack and little extra if you ask me.
I pass Wills off to Lorien, much to her surprise. Her mouth pops open, and she looks taken aback. “You good?”
She nods quickly but still looks startled.
I grab her plate, drop it in the sink and grab my own, piling it full of all the good stuff, and slide a bottle of Tapatio out of the spice cabinet. I skip the tortillas and grab a handful of chips. Nachos sound great.
Renée starts high school in a little over a month. They’d planned to move before that happened, but Wills surprised us all.
I wonder if I should buy this place when they list it this fall.
Their new-to-them home is in the middle of renovations and not quite ready for a move.
My place would offer great rental income and since that will already be in the works, it would be a smooth transition.
I’m more meant for off-grid living, or more accurately, less on-grid living.
A log cabin in the mountains is more my speed.
I wonder how long I’ll be married to the woman whose eyes are fixated on my nephew.
Shit. How had I not considered that? In my mind, it would be less than two years. A quick twenty-four months or less, no harm, no foul. Lawsuits settled, we quietly and amicably divorce, and I go on about my merry way.
If this shit extends out, I could be married for way longer than I estimated. Five years I can do. I can do any of it to protect what I’ve worked for. But a decade? Can a lawsuit or an appeal stretch that long? What would happen if we divorced in the interim?
Certainly, I can’t expect her to— I cut that thought off at the knees.
Think good thoughts. Think good thoughts.
“Liam?” Cian asks.
What? “Yeah.”
“Were you listening?”
Not even close. “Yeah.”
“Repeat back to me any of the words in my last sentence.”
I make a face. “Sorry, Ci. My mind wandered. What were you saying?”
“We’re talking about going to Aspen. Before the leaves change and all the tourists descend. After Ayla and Sariah are ready. Y’all in?”
There’s a quiet intake of breath from the woman next to me. Shit. I’m half of an us, or we, or y’all now.
I nod, but hedge. “Let us know the details. If we can, we’ll be there.”
I look to my right and wish I hadn’t. Lorien’s face is soft and curious. There’s something approving in her look that makes my insides warm. I have no fucking time for warm insides.
“We’ll get you details.”
“Am I good to…” Renée drifts off and points down the hall to her room.
“Sure thing, Née,” Sariah says and watches her daughter walk away, Eleanor right on her heels.
“She loved me. She only had eyes for me,” Cian mutters. “But then you women folk came and stole her away from me.”
“Women folk? Are we in the 1800’s now?” Sariah chides.
“A man and his dog should be sacred. That’s all I’m saying.” He moves around the kitchen, putting away leftovers and fake complaining. He loves that dog, but he loves his humans more. Never thought I’d see the day.
“I’m glad you have something to grumble about. The rest of your life is so perfect.” I shovel in the last of my nachos and cringe when Sariah unwraps the cookies.
Don’t do it. Please don’t do it. You have no idea.
My telepathy must not work because she takes a huge bite and schools her features almost immediately. “Wow.” The wonder in her voice isn’t joy, I’d bet. I’d bet she’s confused and wondering how to swallow it. I could be wrong, but…
She looks at me, and I shake my hand and my head at the same time. “I can’t. Sorry. I ate too much dinner.” My eyes crinkle. I know they do, but I fight to hold my lips in a perfect line. “Thank you. It was delicious.”
“Um hmm.” Her eyes narrow on me but brighten up the moment Lorien looks up at her from Wills.
“They’re my mom’s recipe. I don’t really like to eat sweets, but I love to bake.”
“Ci, you have to taste this.” Sariah smiles sweetly and hands him her half-eaten cookie and faces away from us working at the sink.
I will not laugh. I will not laugh.
“Oh. Wow.” He pauses for a while. “Brownies yesterday and cookies today. It’s not an expectation you know.” His jaw is working and his lips are moving but his eyes tell another story.
“You sound like Liam.” She waves a hand.
I don’t know whether it’s the dismissal in her tone or the familiarity of my name on her lips, but I lean in, closer than I should. “Are we good?”
She turns and there’s her little intake of breath. We’re too close and our eyes lock. I fight to swallow for a brief second as she drops her eyes to my lips before they slide away.
“Yeah. We’re good.”
I pull the folded papers from my pocket and pass them to her. She opens them, her eyes scanning from top to bottom before returning to the top and reading it more slowly.
The water is running in the sink, and I’m pretty sure Cian and Sariah are talking between themselves, but the world blurs around me aside from the paper and the woman reading it.
She slides the top one aside. Below the certificate is a second document that I hadn’t shown her before.
It bears the stationery of Nettles and Cohen, Sherman’s firm.
This is the prenup. I know this one by heart like I do the one above it.
Everything she came into the marriage with is hers.
Any property bought in only her name is solely hers.
Same for me. Any property or luxury items bought with both of our names will be split equally in the case of dissolution.
At least, legally, we sound like we want this to work.
“Do you have a pen?” she asks quietly, her voice little more than a whisper.
One appears between us. It’s probably Cian’s doing. I don’t know.
She signs her name twice and drops her eyes closed. When she opens them, she’s resolute, sliding the papers my way.
I sign, not bothering to double check the date or the correctness. I’ve already had the time to do so.
“Our turn?” My brother asks from the other side of the island. In silence, I pass the documents and pen his way, and he signs before offering for Sariah to do the same.
“Is there a significance to May fifteenth?” she asks, looking between me and Lorien. It’s within the sixty-three-day window, after the offer, before she moved in and—
“That’s the day I successfully defended my dissertation,” my now-wife states, surprise and awe in her voice.