29. Garrett
Chapter Twenty-Nine
GARRETT
H e took the breakfast plates out of the warmer, bracing himself for the sight of Emma in her De Olla gear.
They had been married a week, and she was still working at the coffee kiosk.
Things weren’t going to change overnight, he reminded himself. Baby steps. He closed his eyes, cursing because now he was imagining Emma pregnant with his baby.
“Fuck,” he muttered, setting the plate on the counter with more force than was necessary. This was turning into a major problem.
Garrett prided himself on always having his shit together. Even during his post-divorce party days, he’d never gotten sloppy drunk. As for drugs, he avoided them like the plague these days, having learned the hard way never to relinquish control of the reins.
But that was before Emma. His life began to careen out of control the moment he first saw her in the café. His head had been a mess from then on. But after watching Emma walk toward him in that white dress, he’d been done. Stick a fork in him done.
Garrett had instructed his clothing buyer to find something tasteful that worked for a wedding but wasn’t a formal bridal gown.
They’d sent him a picture of a knee-length lacy number straight out of the fifties. He’d approved the retro look because it was sufficiently casual.
Trust Emma to transform a simple dress into a religious experience.
It wasn’t her fault. Her curves turned even the simplest of silhouettes into showstoppers.
But having such a flamboyantly sexy woman living with and now married to him was like a trial by fire. At the very least he should have to pay a fine when he stared too long. And he’d stared way too fucking long when Emma stepped out of her room in the dress.
Fortunately for him, his bride had been too nervous about getting married to notice. Hell, she’d been terrified, and he knew it. So had everyone else.
Elias had been so taken with Emma that he’d taken him aside to ask if he thought getting married right then was a good idea.
“Maybe if you give her a couple of days she won’t look so freaked out,” his friend had muttered as the justice of the peace freshened up before the ceremony.
The words had sounded kind and protective, up until the point Elias had straightened his sports coat and run a hand through his hair. “That way she has a chance to look around and weigh her options.”
Garrett had mock-punched Elias a little too hard in response. He knew Elias had been joking, but he hadn’t wasted any more time. He’d hustled Emma in front of the justice of the peace a few minutes later.
Emma had been shell-shocked during the brief ceremony, which was why Garrett had kept their vows to a simple I do . Fortunately, Emma had recovered somewhat by dinner when they were eating Mohammed’s exquisite duck tajine, the one with the figs and apricots she loved.
The flowing wine hadn’t hurt either, although he’d made sure she hadn’t taken any serious medication beforehand.
“I liked your friend Elias,” Emma told him at the end of the night, once everyone had gone home. “Are the rest like him and Rainer?”
“Yeah.” Except for Fletcher, of course.
That was probably why he’d waited until after the ceremony to text his business partner, informing him of his nuptials after the fact.
He’d gotten a string of head-exploding emojis.
Then fifteen minutes later he’d received another one.
Fine. Problem solved. Congratulations.
“Hey.”
Garrett raised his head. As anticipated, Emma was dressed for work.
He suppressed a sigh. At least she was wearing the new parka he’d gotten her. Fall in San Diego wasn’t exactly demanding, but the wind on the waterfront could be biting.
“Good morning,” he said. He pushed a plate forward. “Mohammed made you a cheese frittata.”
Lighting up, Emma hopped onto the barstool at the end of the kitchen island. She closed her eyes at the first bite and swayed, making happy little noises.
“Dear Lord. How does he do this to eggs?”
Her sounds of pleasure were both a blessing and a curse.
“I asked him once. He said the egg was the ultimate challenge for a chef. Lots of people eat eggs in all sorts of ways. But to take an egg and make it an experience—that’s true talent.”
She hummed, her mouth too full to speak. “You should give him a raise.”
“He makes a very healthy salary. I assure you.”
Her ponytail was coming undone. A lock of it was flipping forward until it was almost to her mouth. Should he tuck it behind her ear so she wouldn’t get egg in it? Or would that be weird?
Yeah, it would be weird. Which is why he was kicking himself for doing it anyway.
Emma’s breath hitched, but Garrett just charged ahead, carrying on as if he wasn’t a giant freak. “You’re on till four today, right? ”
She nodded, taking one of the glasses of fresh-squeezed OJ to wash down her eggs.
“Good, good. By the way, your credit and debit cards are here,” he said, taking them out of his pocket and sliding them across the kitchen counter to her.
Emma blinked. “My what?”
“Your Amex Black and the Chase Sapphire. They’re already set to autopay from your stipend,” he said, nodding at the credit cards. “For expenses.”
Her lips pursed in confusion. “You do remember the stipend you get?” he reminded her.
“Stipend?”
“Five thousand, paid out every week.” He frowned at her deer-in-the-headlights expression. “It was in the prenuptial contract.”
“ It was ?” Emma gasped. “I get five thousand every week ?”
He wiped his mouth before putting his glass and plate in the dishwasher. Emma looked like he’d just asked her for a kidney.
“You don’t have to spend the stipend if you don’t want to,” he pointed out. “You can invest it. Or send some home.”
She toyed with her fork. “I thought when you said I could send my wages home, that would be it. That was more than generous.”
Not really. He knew how much she made an hour.
“You can send that too,” he said, trying to sound indifferent. “But the stipend gives you options. We talked about you going back to school. Or you can pick something else. It’s up to you.”
He stopped before telling her the world was her oyster.
“Are you done freaking out?” he asked after a minute. “Because we can get Meowmus one of those tiny service animal vests. He can be your emotional support animal.”
Emma’s face transformed, anxiety shifting to mild irritation. She balled up a napkin and threw it at him. “Smart aleck.”
He grinned. “Do you want me to swing by and pick you up after work? There’s a good steakhouse a block down from the kiosk I’ve been wanting to try.”
“Oh…” Emma bl inked. “Okay.”
“Great. I’ve been craving beef Wellington all week.”
Still affecting disinterest, he checked the time on his phone. “I better run to the office. I’ll meet you at the kiosk around closing. See you then.”
Quitting while he was ahead, he said goodbye, running into Rainer on his way out. They discussed a few last-minute pre-wedding plans.
Tomorrow night was the stag party.
“Make sure Ian doesn’t get his way about the strippers,” Rainer told him as they boarded the elevator. “Else, George will have my balls.”
Once upon a time, having a stripper at a stag party would have made the night complete. But that stage of his life had come and gone before Emma came back into his life. Nevertheless, his nose wrinkled, wondering how she would react if Ian got his way.
She probably wouldn’t care. Which, if he was being honest, would be disappointing.
“I’ll make sure,” he promised.
It didn’t matter that they weren’t a couple. Not partying with strippers was Garrett being considerate to his roommate, a woman legally bound to him for insurance reasons.
The fact he was taking Emma to a highly acclaimed restaurant whose reviews never failed to mention the dim and romantic lighting… Well, that was something he wouldn’t be mentioning to any of his friends.