Chapter 13 – Maura
MAURA
“Tell me I heard you wrong,” Pippa says, clutching at her heart. “Say you didn’t order what I think you just ordered.”
I raise my brows. “I said, ‘I’ll take a decaf coffee.’”
“Wow. Someone call the circus, because we’ve got to get Maura the Decaf Drinker in between the fire swallowers and the acrobats.”
“I came here for a casual hang, not to get roasted for my coffee order,” I grumble. I made sure to sleep in late today, so I’d have plenty of energy for my catch-up with the girls. Chronic illness or not, there’s no way I was missing this afternoon’s meeting—even though I’m being widely mocked.
“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know people actually ordered decaf unless it was late at night.” Cat sounds almost awestruck.
Brinley shakes her head as she loads up decaf grounds into the Copper Cup’s espresso machine. “Maura always drinks decaf. It’s the weirdest thing about her.”
“It is not,” I insist. “Plenty of people avoid caffeine. It’s perfectly normal.”
“Name one person besides you who’s a total caffeine teetotaler,” Pippa demands.
“James.”
At the sound of my husband’s name, quiet falls over the café counter, and the other girls exchange glances. “Well, I guess you have that in common, at least,” Cat says. “How’s everything else with him?”
“It’s fine.” Brinley slides my americano over to me, and I inhale its rich scent. “I don’t see him all that much. He works insane hours.”
“But when he’s there, you get along?”
I shrug. “We get along fine. He’s nice and quiet. Polite.”
“That’s it?” Pippa presses.
“I mean, so far. We’ve only been married for a week.”
Brinley, Cat, and Pippa all exchange glances again. These silent communications have got to stop. “Whatever you want to say, just say it. I don’t like watching you mentally talk about me like I’m not here.”
Cat’s face turns pink. “Sorry, Maura. I think we’re just not sure how much we’re allowed to say, you know? Because we want to be supportive—”
“But we’re also too opinionated for our own good,” Brinley says, interrupting. “At least, I am.”
“Go ahead, then.” I wave my hand. “Say what you’re thinking, even if you think I’ll hate it. I’d rather talk about it than have it hanging over my head.”
“You sound more like a grade school teacher describing a student than a wife describing her husband,” Brinley says. “Quiet and polite? That's not exactly passionate.”
“James also keeps his desk clean, and he's a pleasure to have in class,” I joke, making Cat giggle. “Gold star for James. He shares his crayons.”
“Does he, though?” Pippa raises an eyebrow. “He seems like the type to color-code his crayons and get mad if anyone uses them wrong.”
I snort. “Okay, that's actually accurate.”
“You’re getting along, though? You have stuff to talk about?” Pippa asks.
I take a long sip of coffee, thinking about the question.
James isn’t chatty, but there’s also very little awkward silence between us.
He let me tease him about his color-coded schedules, and he gently mocked my paint-stained sweater in return.
We didn’t spend a lot of time discovering our personal compatibility before marriage, but it seems to be there. At least, I see potential.
“We have plenty to talk about,” I admit. “We’re very different people, but I like him.”
“So does that mean you like him, like him?” Pippa says.
I glance around us to double check that nobody’s in earshot. “I don’t know if I’d say I like him, like him. I think I just like him for now.”
“So the wedding night didn’t go so well?” Cat asks.
Heat rushes to my face, and I duck my head in a pathetic attempt to hide my reaction. “I didn’t say that.”
“So it went…well.”
“Very well.”
“By which you mean…” Pippa prods.
My blush deepens. “I don’t want to give you TMI or anything.”
“No such thing,” she says. “I want all the tea. However much I you think I want, it’s more.”
“Pippa’s a journalist,” Cat says. “She wants the story. And I know I come off innocent, but it’s hard to shock me. You can share as much detail as you’re comfortable with.”
For a second, I imagine how their faces would look if I told them about James’s massive cock, and how hard he worked to help me take it. I can just see Cat’s eyes going wide and Pippa’s mouth falling open, and the idea of saying something that would manage to shock them appeals to me.
James deserves my discretion, though. I decide on sharing something in the middle.
“I’ve never come with another person before,” I whisper. “At least, I hadn’t before I got married.”
A smile spreads across Cat’s face. “Well, good for you guys!”
“And it happened more than once?” Pippa asks.
I nod, and they both squeal.
“Cheers to that!” Pippa says, thrusting her latte into the air. I toast her and Cat with my decaf coffee, giggling. Brinley doesn’t raise her glass.
“Sorry, Brinley, is it too much sex talk?” Cat asks.
“Doesn’t it feel a little weird, talking about this like it’s a normal marriage?” Brinley says in a low voice.
The mood shifts instantly. Cat and Pippa place their cups gently on the counter, like they might make Brinley combust if they move too quickly.
“Excuse me?” I say, letting ice drip from each word.
“Of course I’m glad he made it good for you,” Brinley says quickly. “It’s just—doesn’t it feel forced or rushed for you? Like, you barely knew him, and now you’re sharing a bed?”
“I have my own bedroom and my own space, thanks. Besides, it’s not like he’s some random one-night stand! He might not be my best friend, but he’s not a stranger.”
“Yeah, well, as your friend, the whole contracted child thing still freaks me out,” Brinley says.
“I want a baby, Brinley. That’s the only reason I agreed to this, so I could be a mother.”
“It’s not the baby. It’s the sex.”
“Kind of an essential step to the baby,” Pippa points out before Cat elbows her in the side.
“Look, I have to ask. I promise, this will be the only time I say anything.” Brinley leans forward, her brown eyes penetrating mine.
“Does the contract require you to have sex with him? Like, let’s say you’re ovulating, but you’re not in the mood.
Or maybe he wants to, but you’re tired. Do you have any rights, or can he make you? ”
I blink. That’s what she’s worried about? The edge on my anger softens slightly—but only slightly.
“James would never force me to do anything.” There’s no doubt in my mind when I say it. James has never made me feel unsafe, has never so much as prodded at my boundaries. Through a week of sleeping with me, he didn’t say a word about me keeping my shirt on.
Brinley sighs. “That’s a lot of trust you’re putting in him.”
“He’s earned it!”
“By doing what?” she asks insistently. “What has he managed to do in the past month to earn your unquestioning trust?”
“He kept his word,” I say simply. “He promised me a studio, he built me one. He said he’d take care of that awful Toronto Tea article, and he did. Our relationship is new, but he hasn’t let me down yet, and I’ve got no reason not to trust him.”
“Except for the fact that he signed this whole chauvinistic contract!” she blurts. “The one your dad came up with, because he wouldn’t give his company to a woman. I can’t believe that doesn’t make you question him!”
I force myself to unclench my jaw. It seems like no matter what I say, Brinley just finds a problem with it. Well, I’m officially tired of explaining that I married James because I wanted to.
“I don’t have to justify this to you!” I snap. “Maybe I trust him for the same reasons I trusted you after the first day I met you. Maybe because I have good instincts, and I’ve seen enough people who don’t give a shit about what I want that I can recognize when somebody actually does.”
Brinley’s lips part, but she doesn’t say anything. Cat and Pippa just stare at me like they’re mildly shellshocked, and I realize that I haven’t been exactly quiet. I just yelled a defense of my contract husband in the middle of the Copper Cup, at two in the afternoon on a Saturday.
“I’m sorry,” Brinley murmurs. “I was way too harsh. I had an argument with someone this morning, and I was in a bad mood and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have pushed.”
“No,” I say stiffly. “You shouldn’t have.”
“I’m just worried that I’m the only person looking out for you here, because I know your dad isn’t.
You’ve been put in a legally vulnerable position, one that could put you in danger if James had ill intentions.
Maybe you trust him, but I don’t, not yet.
I want to get there, I do, it’s just—I want better for you than… than this.”
“Well, I chose this,” I snap. “I chose him. You can either be happy for me, or I can walk out the door and we’ll never have this conversation again.”
“Then I pick being happy for you,” she says. “Unless he does something that hurts you. Then I demand your permission to talk all the shit I want about him.”
“He won’t,” I say firmly.
“I hope you’re right.” She sighs. “Maybe I’m just disillusioned about men in general. It seems like they’re only good for one thing—and I’m not convinced they’re better at that than my vibrator.”
My lips quirk into a smile, and the other girls laugh, breaking the tension.
“It’s nice to give my vibrator a break for a bit,” I say. “Since it was my only partner for way too long.”
“It deserves a good retirement party,” Cat suggests. “Maybe we could throw it one. I can get a card for us all to sign.”
“What do you think it’ll do with its free time now? Take up golf?” Brinley says thoughtfully.
“I wouldn’t get rid of it just yet,” Pippa says. “Husbands and vibrators can play very well together.”
“TMI,” Brinley and I say in unison.
“If you ask me, that was just enough tea,” Cat says. “I told you I wasn’t a prude!”
The conversation quickly devolves into a discussion about vibrators, and how old we were when we were brave enough to buy one for ourselves.
Brinley chimes in less than she usually does, seemingly deep in thought.
I wonder if she feels guilty about pushing me, or if she’s trying to come up with ways to convince me that she’s right.
If I’m honest with myself, a lot of what she said made sense.
The contract could have gone wrong if James wasn’t as respectful or decent as he is, and the lawyers who helped me review it were looking out for my financial security, not my personal safety.
I’m lucky, really, that she cares so much about me.
That doesn’t mean I want to defend my marriage every time I see her. And despite her promises, I have a feeling this won’t be the last time she objects to me and James.