Chapter 8 #2
She rubbed her hands together, a small smile playing at her lips. “That’s sweet but unnecessary for this kind of arrangement.”
“Maybe so. Guess I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been in a fake marriage before.”
She huffed out a laugh. “Technically, I think this is a marriage of convenience.”
“Is that right?” I asked, grinning. “And there’s a difference?”
“Yes.” Her tone was so matter-of-fact. “If we’re looking at tropes, we’re married for real, not only faking it. And it’s for convenience.”
“Fair enough.”
“So I think a clear set of guidelines and expectations is appropriate, given the circumstances.”
I nodded once, resting my elbows on the armrests and lacing my fingers. “Of course. Whatever you want.”
“For example. How long are we going to stay married? I’m trying to find a lawyer that doesn’t know anyone in Lovewell to help with the annulment process.”
That was a good question. With the madness that came after our marriage, we’d yet to even think through the timing.
“What do you think? Six months? A year?”
“I really don’t know.” She worried her lip. “I figure we shoot for six months? Check in every few weeks to make sure we’re both okay with how it’s going? Six months would get us into spring. By then, hopefully my dad will have made a lot of improvements. So that could work.”
“Hopefully I’ll have a job lined up and be moving, anyway.”
She twisted the ends of her hair, her nervous tell, I’d discovered. “And I’ll be more established and organized at work and be taking better care of myself.”
I smiled at her. It was impressive, how committed she was to this town and her patients.
“Let me know what the lawyer needs. I hope you know I won’t take anything from you.”
“Are you talking about money?” She laughed and then laughed some more, her head thrown back.
“I don’t have any money,” she said, wiping a tear from her left eye.
“I’m up to my eyeballs in student debt. I would have made more bartending than I did as a medical resident.
If you married me for money, you are in trouble. ”
“I didn’t marry you for money,” I said, sitting up straighter.
She waved me off. “Oh, I know. We were wasted.”
“Yes we were. But I also married you because I was intrigued by you and got swept up in the moment.”
“So…”
I leaned forward, my forearms on my knees. “So, I’m happy to stay married to you. I like hanging out with you. And I think we can help one another. You’re a good influence.”
“Me?” she scoffed. “The girl who got drunk married in Vegas?”
I huffed. Her tendency to talk down about herself like this irked me.
“You are complex, Dr. Willa Savard,” I said, maintaining eye contact so she knew I meant it. “But you are driven, focused, and ambitious. You’ve achieved a lot in your thirty years. I’d be lucky to be your temporary husband.”
One corner of her mouth quirked, but that was the only reaction she gave me. I had a feeling she was not in the habit of being flattered, and I wanted to change that.
“Okay, okay. I get it,” she finally said, dismissing my compliments. “But you need to promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
“Radical honesty.” She tilted her head and assessed me quietly while the words sank in. “This will only work if we’re totally honest with one another all the time. I mean it. I’m going to call you out on your bullshit.”
Amusement mixed with a little apprehension flitted through me. Still, I nodded. “I welcome it.”
“Did you mean all that stuff you told me in Vegas? That you want to grow and find your purpose?” She cocked a brow expectantly, but she didn’t wait for a response before she went on. “If I find you unshowered and playing video games on my couch, I’m going to let you have it.”
Fiery. I liked this side of her. “Excellent. I’m all for it.”
“And, if I’m not sleeping, if I’m eating crap and neglecting my life outside doctoring—”
I held up a hand in promise. “Then I will sound the alarm.”
“Good.” She nodded succinctly.
“Maybe, together, we can become functional adults.”
“Here’s to trying. Hopefully we can make it work.”
I didn’t know whether it was the late hour or how cute she looked in her sweats, but a surge of affection for Willa swamped me. Along with the desire to give her anything she wanted, honestly.
“We’ll make it work,” I said. “I don’t want to fail again.
At least not right now. RiverFest was a win, and for the first time in a long time, people are treating me decently.
I am slowly earning back the respect of my brothers.
And having a quickie marriage followed by a subsequent divorce and having messed up Owen and Lila’s engagement weekend for nothing?
That’s old Cole. I want to be new Cole.”
I wasn’t in the habit of being so vulnerable. But she wanted honesty, and I wanted to be the best damn husband I could be, even if it was only for six months.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I won’t let you down either.
There’s nothing I hate more than disappointing people.
And while we may not live happily ever after, sitting side by side in rocking chairs while yelling at squirrels in fifty years, we can still take this time together and come out better. ”
She was right. This may have started as a drunken fuck-up, but maybe we could learn and grow from this experience. And looking at her, I knew the last thing I wanted to do was let her down.