Chapter 6
Cole
It’s been a little over a week since I married a complete stranger, and somehow, we’ve fallen into rhythm. Not as husband and wife, more like roommates who happen to share a last name and a questionable life decision.
She makes coffee in the mornings. Strong enough to peel paint, but I drink it anyway.
I split firewood and make sure the generator doesn’t freeze up.
She leaves sticky notes on the fridge reminding me to eat something that isn’t jerky or canned chili.
I leave her fresh logs by the woodstove because she always forgets to restock before the fire dies.
It’s…easy. Easier than it has any right to be.
At night, she knits and listens to her audiobooks by the fire wrapped in that red scarf she refuses to stop wearing inside. I pretend not to notice when she hums along to Christmas songs under her breath. I tell myself it’s annoying, but the truth is, I kind of like it.
She laughs easily, talks too much when she’s nervous, and leaves a trail of chaos wherever she goes. The cabin used to echo with silence—now it hums with life again.
And damn if that doesn’t scare me a little.
Earlier this week, I called Wentworth’s office and sent over all the signed paperwork. The marriage certificate, the judge’s signature, the whole nine yards. Proof that I had a wife, just like Gramps’ will demanded. They confirmed receipt, which means the ball’s in the court now.
All that’s left is getting past December 31st.
I’m in my workshop out back, running a sander over a slab of pine, when I spot movement through the open door. Frankie’s out by the barn, dragging two big plastic totes across the snow.
She’s muttering to herself, cheeks pin from the cold, hair falling out of her hat in dark curls that bounce against her scarf. I have no idea what’s in those boxes, but judging by the look of determination on her face, I’m guessing it involves Christmas decorations.
I shake my head, grinning despite myself. The woman’s a menace with a tinsel addiction.
I’m about to got out and give her a hard time for my own amusement when my phone buzzes on the workbench. The screen lights up with a name I’ve been half expecting, half dreading.
Ryan.
Here we go.
I take a breath and answer, trying to sound like a man who actually enjoys talking to his cousin. “Ryan, I didn’t expect to hear from you.”
“Cut the crap, Cole,” he snaps. “You really think I’m going to believe your marriage is real?”
I roll my eyes and lean against the workbench, keeping my voice calm. “What, you don’t trust what the lawyer sent over to you? I told him to send you copies of everything for your record. The whole deal.”
“Please.” He scoffs. “You’re telling me you just happened to meet someone and marry her weeks before the deadline?”
I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my mouth. “Of course. What do you think, I just put out an ad online for a wife and some woman was crazy enough to answer it?”
“There’s silence on the other end. Long enough for me to imagine the vein in his forehead starting to make an appearance.
“That’s just…ridiculous,” I continue, letting the truth slide out in a way that sounds like a joke. “No one would be that crazy.”
Ryan grunts. “You always were full of it, Cole.”
“Believe what you want,” I say lightly. “But it’s too bad you can’t come up for the holidays to see for yourself. Frankie and I were planning to keep it low-key for our first Christmas as a married couple. But I'm sure you'd get a kick out of meeting her.”
I expect another scoff. Maybe even a threat.
What I don’t expect is him saying, “Actually that sounds great.”
“What?”
“Marnie and I will come up on Christmas Eve,” he says. “She’s always on me about working so much over the holidays, and I’d hate to miss meeting the newest member of the Whitaker clan.”
“You don’t have to do that. Frankie was really hoping for just the two of us this year—”
“She’ll love the surprise.”
“Ryan—”
“See you then!”
The call cuts off and I stare at the phone for a few seconds, jaw tight. Well, I should have seen that one coming a mile away.
I shove the phone into my pocket, grab my jacket, and head for the cabin. Through the window, I can see Frankie inside, untangling a mess of lights like she’s about to fight them into submission.
She looks up just as I open the door, her smile bright and easy. “Hey you! I found a box of decorations in the barn. Thought the cabin could use a little holiday cheer.”
“About that,” I say, stepping inside and shutting the door behind me.
Her smile falters. “What’s wrong?”
I sigh. “We’re going to have company for Christmas.”