Chapter 16
Month Two
Hess
Making a protein shake doesn’t require much time in the kitchen.
You get the milk, you get the powder, you put it in a shaker bottle, and shake.
But I’ve been standing in the kitchen—more like in front of the kitchen window—for five minutes now, pretending to make a protein shake in between glancing at my wife.
Camila is poolside.
In a royal-blue bikini.
Laying out.
With her hair in a messy bun.
Next to my dog.
When I told her she could use the pool whenever she wanted, I didn’t think about how that would affect me—nor did I think about what she might look like if she were to use the pool.
And just to be clear, she looks distracting.
As in, I’ve been distracted for five minutes.
By her laying out, poolside.
It’s not like I haven’t seen an attractive woman before.
One month ago, I was in a relationship with a beautiful woman.
But this feels different, like I’m not allowed to notice her, but I want to notice her.
Throw in the element that we’re married, and now there’s this thought in my mind that physically I’m allowed to do more with Camila because she’s my wife.
Obviously, I haven’t touched, but I’m thinking about what it would feel like if I touched her.
It’s a kind of forbidden attraction I’ve never felt before.
Wild stuff, because like I said, a few weeks ago, I thought Shanna could be the love of my life, and look how wrong I was about her.
But Camila isn’t Shanna.
She’s guarded and pushes me away more than she invites me in, but when she does let me in, something magical happens.
I feel important, like she’s trusting me with little pieces of herself, like I’m a safe place for her, and I like that role.
But those small moments make me want more and more from her, which is a problem when you’re trying to keep things businesslike.
I slam the shaker bottle down on the counter and drag my hands down my face, trying to clear my head.
That’s when I hear a car door slam out front.
There are only two people who would visit me on a Sunday afternoon without texting first.
I glance at Camila in her bikini and swear.
“Yoo hoo!” my mom calls as she opens the front door. “Hess?”
“Yeah.” I walk out of the kitchen, meeting my mom and dad as they close the front door.
Bart and Anita Taylor look exactly like you’d expect them to.
My dad stands tall in a plaid shirt and cowboy boots, his soft middle contradicting the years of hard work on our family ranch.
Then there’s my mom. Perfectly homey, like you’ve just walked into a Cracker Barrel.
Her dirty-blonde hair is twisted up into one of those claw clips, so you can see her kind eyes and smile.
“We brought you some leftovers.” She holds up a Tupperware container before kissing me on the cheek.
“Thanks.” I dart my eyes to the side, checking to see if my parents can see Camila from the living room.
They can, thanks to the glass doors instead of a wall.
My dad plants himself on my couch. “When you didn’t stop by this weekend, Mom wanted to drive over after church and see what you’re up to.”
To prevent my parents from dropping by my house since Camila moved in four weeks ago, I’ve been visiting them at their house. It’s worked well until now, until I didn’t take the time to stop by and see them this week. Big mistake.
“I’ve just been busy,” I say.
“It’s lasagna.” My mom taps her finger on the Tupperware lid. “Go put it in the fridge so it doesn’t spoil.”
“Sure.” My eyes shift to Camila again, making sure she isn’t on her way inside, then I turn and head back to the kitchen.
“Is Shanna here?” my mom asks.
I freeze before opening the refrigerator door. “Why do you ask?”
“We saw someone’s car outside,” my dad says. “Figured somebody was here.”
“About Shanna…”
I suck in a deep breath and return to the living room just as my mom gasps.
“Who is that woman?” She walks over to the sliding glass doors to get a better view, and I’m silently wishing Camila didn’t look so good in her swimsuit. It further complicates things.
“Uh…” I could lie here, say that Camila is Shanna’s old college roommate. It’s tempting, but in the end, I’m honest to a fault. “That is”—I place my hands on my hips, figuring it’s best to just come out with it—“my wife.”
My mom whips around, disbelief covering her face. “Your wife?”
“What do you mean your wife?” Now my dad stands and walks to the window, getting his own glimpse at Camila.
“I married her.”
“In Vegas?” My mom can barely keep from tearing up.
“Well, I’ll be.” Dad fidgets with his belt buckle. “You finally eloped with Shanna, did ya?”
“No.” I shake my head.
“That’s not Shanna, Bart!”
“I need my glasses,” he says, going back for another look. “Who in Sam Hill is that?”
Both my parents turn to me expectantly.
“Her name is Camila Jiménez, and we’ve been married for five and a half years.
” They don’t say anything, so I just come out with the rest of it.
“We got married for money. She needed a husband to get her inheritance from her estranged father, and she offered to pay me two hundred thousand dollars if I would agree to marry her for six years.”
A deep V forms between my dad’s brows. “You’re a gigolo?”
“What, no? Why would you—”
“Bart!” My mom slaps his arm, appalled.
“He said he got paid to marry her. What other conclusion is there?”
“I’m not a gigolo. This was purely a platonic business arrangement.”
“Hess, how could you do this?” Now there are full tears in my mom’s eyes. Tears.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
My dad’s stern expression matches his biting tone. “Entering into a marriage for money seemed like a good idea?”
“Well, yeah. How else was I supposed to get the money to start my business?”
He throws his arms up. “I told you I’d loan you the money.”
“I didn’t want your money.”
“But marriage?” A full tear trickles down my mom’s cheek, breaking my heart as it rolls. “Marriage is sacred and special.”
“Real marriage is sacred and special, but this wasn’t real. It was a business agreement. We haven’t even spoken in five and a half years.”
“If you haven’t spoken, then why is she half-naked by your pool?” My dad gestures outside.
“Shanna found out about the fake marriage and told on us. The judge decided that our marriage wasn’t in”—I use air quotes—“good faith and—”
There’s a squeak from my mom. “Sentenced you to jail?”
I rub my forehead, summoning patience. “No, he suggested we live together for six months and undergo marriage counseling before he makes a declaration on our case.”
Another gasp from my mom. “So she lives here?”
“Just temporarily, so we can prove to the judge that we tried to make things work. That’s all he really wants in order to rule in our favor.”
“That’s a good idea.” I’m shocked by how quickly my mom perks up. “But I’m ashamed of you, son.” This is the part I’ve been dreading. “You shouldn’t have mocked good faith with air quotes.”
Lines form across my forehead. “That’s what you’re ashamed of me for?”
“When you took those vows, you committed to something bigger and everlasting. The judge is a good man. You can make this work.”
“Your mother is right,” my dad says with a nod. “You’ve got yourself a pretty wife there. The circumstances you entered into the marriage with don’t matter. You made a commitment, and you’re going to keep it. You’re going to make this marriage work. We don’t quit in this family.”
I give a slight eye roll. I can’t help it. “This isn’t the eighteen hundreds. I can’t just make the marriage work. I don’t even know Camila.”
“You should’ve thought about that before you married her,” he snaps.
My mom’s expression grows hopeful. “Just because you don’t know her now doesn’t mean you can’t get to know her over the next few months and fall in love.” She looks at my dad. “You know, like they do in the Middle East with arranged marriages.”
“Exactly.” He points at my mom.
“Five minutes ago, you thought I had married Shanna. Now you want me to force myself to fall in love with a girl I barely know just to preserve the sanctity of marriage. Do you hear how crazy that sounds?”
My mom’s lip quivers as she talks. “I’m just trying to turn a horrible situation into something positive.”
I soften. “I know.”
“We just want you to be happy.” Another tear threatens to fall. “To have the type of love and family that we’ve had. Is that so wrong?”
“No, it’s not. But I don’t want you to get your hopes up. This marriage will end in divorce in five months whether the judge declares it fake or not. It’s better if you realize that now and learn to cope with it.”
“Five months!” My dad’s head kicks back. “I thought you said six.”
“Camila has been living here the last month.”
My mom covers her mouth like she’s astonished.
“You’ve been lying to us for the past month?” my dad asks.
“Dad, I’ve been lying to you for the past five and a half years.”
“But you're trying to make this marriage work, right? The court ordered you to try?” There’s a scrap of a smile on her lips. “You’re making the best of things?”
“I…” My gaze shifts to my dad. His expression says, You better not break your mother’s heart even more. “Yes, obviously, I’m trying to get to know her and make the best of things. But…” A giant smile fills my mom’s face, and I don’t have it in me to finish my sentence.
“So, Camila? That’s what you said her name is, right?”
“Yeah, she’s Selena’s sister. You know, Landon’s fiancée.”
“Oh my gosh!” There’s a clap of excitement from my mom. “The four of you are going to have so much fun together, raising babies, growing old.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I hold my palm up, stopping her. “There won’t be babies or old people.”
“Here she comes! Act natural!” My mom turns, standing at attention, while my dad stiffens as if he’s never been introduced to someone before.
I keep the curse words inside my head as Camila walks across the patio. I don’t need another thing for my mom to be upset about.
Camila slides the door open and steps inside.
“Hello!” my mom eagerly says, causing Camila to jump.
Her brown eyes dart to me before shifting back to my parents.
“Hello.” She crosses her hands in front of her body, very aware that she’s less dressed than the rest of us.
“Camila, these are my parents. Bart and Anita Taylor.”
“Oh, your parents!” Her eyes widen in panic. “I’m Hess’s…” She pauses, struggling to know what to say.
“Wife. We know.” All signs of tears from my mom are gone. Instead, her showmanship smile dazzles the room.
Camila looks at me for some help.
“I told them about us. I had to.”
Without warning, my mom scoops her into a hug. “And we’re so happy to have you as part of our family.”
“Mom!” I rear back. “She’s not part of our family. This is just temporary, remember?”
“Well, then she can temporarily be part of our family.”
Camila stands frozen until she’s released from the hug. That’s when my dad steps forward and offers her a firm handshake.
“Bart Taylor. Welcome to the family.”
Camila forces a smile, despite the ambush. “It’s nice to meet you both. Hess has been very kind and understanding about everything. You raised a good son.”
This makes my mom’s face light up. “Isn’t he sweet? Just wait until you get to know him better. You’ll fall in love with him just like the rest of us.”
“Mom.” Camila and I share an awkward glance.
“I know. I know.” She swats the air in front of her. “Temporary.”
But I don’t think she really does know.
“Well”—Camila slowly shuffles backward down the hall—“I’m going to shower, but it was really great meeting you both.”
“We’ll have you over for dinner. Maybe next week?” There’s way too much giddy hope in my mom’s tone. “Bart will grill us some steaks. And you can wear clothes—I mean, more clothes.”
“I make great steaks,” my dad adds.
Camila looks at me, unsure how to manage the pushiness of Anita Taylor. “That would be fun.”
“We might not get together for steaks.” This is me trying to manage my mom’s hopes and dreams. “Camila is really busy at work.”
“She can make time for family.” Dad is a big believer in family first.
“Coordinate with Hess,” Camila says halfway down the hall. “We’ll see if we can make a day work.”
My parents still wave goodbye as Camila sneaks into her bedroom and closes the door.
“She’s lovely. Very beautiful,” my mom says.
“Camila is more than just beautiful.” I don’t know why I feel a need to highlight all of her good qualities. “She’s extremely smart. In fact, she’s a lawyer. A good lawyer. And she’s quick-witted and capable.”
“Beautiful and accomplished. Even better. You definitely hit the jackpot.”
I did hit the jackpot.
When I married some stranger five and a half years ago, I was young and stupid and didn’t think about how bad things could get if the woman was a psychopath.
But Camila has turned out to be incredible.
And the more time I spend with her, the more I want to get to know her.
Not because she’s my wife, but because I just like her.
“With a woman like that, I don’t see how you wouldn’t fall in love.” My dad pats my shoulder.
“Falling in love isn’t the goal. The goal is to get the judge to believe we tried to have a good-faith marriage.”
“Why can’t the goal be both?” my mom asks. “Why can’t you convince the judge and fall in love with Camila?”
I open my mouth to protest, but nothing comes out.
“I always thought your end goal was to settle down and get married to a great woman.”
“It is, but—”
“Then what would be so bad about falling in love with your wife?”
I stare back at my mom, contemplating her words.
Marriage to an incredible woman I adore was always part of my plan.
What would be so bad about falling in love with Camila?
I’m not saying that’s what’s going to happen. I’m just saying, why am I actively campaigning for it not to happen?