CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Hendrix
I wake up alone.
Again.
Not that Jase and I are sleeping in my bed together on the regular or anything, but after sex... sometimes we fall asleep tangled together. Sometimes he keeps a respectable distance. Regardless of how we fall asleep, by morning his side of the bed is always cold.
I don’t know what I think of that. Like, we’re doing everything a married couple does so maybe it would be nice every once in a while to not wake up alone.
Or maybe it’s for the best and a perfect way for us to keep our great sex life from creeping over the line into the emotion realm.
Then again, I think my toes are already dangling over that line despite telling myself daily that it’s not going to happen.
But who could blame me?
The man is everything he said he wasn’t. Considerate. Caring. Attentive.
This whole scheme may be all about looking good for the judge and to his benefit, but time and again Jase has adjusted on the fly with my needs and wants and best interest in mind.
He reversed his plans to take me to a flashy restaurant, picking up that I’d felt completely underdressed and would have been embarrassed.
Then there’s Jase’s chokehold on Paul to protect me. The image of Jase pinning Paul against the wall is burned in my mind. I’ve never seen someone so enraged on my behalf.
Not that I’m one for violence, but it felt nice to be protected. To be cared for enough that someone wanted to.
And how could I forget the texts I receive whenever we’re apart. The rundown of his schedule and where he’ll be so that I know when to expect him. It’s thoughtful and comforting in a sense to know he’s considerate of my time.
His compliments? Of my body and our time in bed? Yeah, that’s not something I’m used to. His praise of my business and my drive to make it succeed? So vastly different from what I’m used to hearing and yet each time I do, I stand a little taller.
Jase Gizmodo is slowly helping me get my confidence back. Confidence I never knew I’d lost until the day I looked over in Josie’s and met those ice-blue eyes of his.
Am I giving him anything in return, though? Yes, he laughs a lot when he’s with me—we do have fun together. Is that all I’ll be for him when this ends? Just a fun person to pass a few months with? Maybe I should be content with that, but it’s hard not to hope that I mean more to him than a warm body at night.
So even with the bed cold beside me, I shuffle down the hall, rubbing my arms against the early morning chill, toward his voice. It’s hushed, low, almost as if he’s being polite and trying not to wake me.
I turn the corner just in time to see him at the window, shoulders hunched over, head angled down. He has a shirt halfway on, like he started to pull it down but got lost in the conversation so he forgot to pull it the rest of the way down.
I don’t know why the sight jars me, but it does. His words even more so.
“...I know. I’ll figure it out. I’m coming. I’ll be there in a few.”
A pause.
“Yeah, I know. Just give me some time. I’ll handle it.”
He’s talking to someone in a voice I’ve never heard before. Quiet. Earnest. Like he’s keeping a secret.
I don’t know what to think.
The words from a few nights ago echo in my head. I push people away once I sleep with them.
Keeping a secret or cheating on me . . .
I step back around the corner and tiptoe back to my room. The doubt comes with every step. Am I going to be shamed yet again? Jase getting caught cheating on me on a public stage will be painfully real.
Knock it off, Hendrix. Clearly he has a life outside of you.
That’s all this is.
But when the front door slams a minute later, I spend a ridiculous amount of time waiting for my phone to buzz. Waiting for the usual text to come through that tells me where he’ll be today.
It doesn’t come.
Not as I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling.
Not as I get in the shower to get ready for work.
And sure as shit not as I unlock the back door of the bakery with a good morning nod to Sammy.
I can’t help but let the unease twist my stomach or the unsettled thoughts own my head.
With a sigh and a bakery loaded with new orders impossible to fulfill, I shake my head to try and rid all my overthinking.
This marriage is fake, Hendrix.
That’s not a newsflash. It’s not something you didn’t know.
It doesn’t matter where he goes or who he talks to.
You’re made of tougher stuff than this, Hendrix.
Just keep your heart out of this “business arrangement” and you will be absolutely fine.
You will not be a cliché, because you won’t allow yourself to be.
Easier said than done.