Chapter 12
Ian
The following week is an odd blur of work with Wyeth Airways, meetings with lawyers to prepare marriage contract paperwork, and sex with Sarah.
Lots and lots of sex with Sarah.
It was hot as hell even before the whole condom-less thing, but I have to admit it’s fucking unreal now. I can’t get enough of her, of the feeling of sliding inside her with nothing between us.
Nothing but a bunch of legal paperwork, which we’re slowly working through. Cassie’s wedding is drawing closer, and so is our deadline to finalize this deal.
“I love that you included a whole section on pets.” Sarah taps her pen on the stack of papers in her lap, but I can’t see what she’s pointing to since I’m driving. “And that you expressed a preference for cats over dogs.”
I laugh, remembering the incident with the cat on the car roof. “I’m open to negotiation on that,” I tell her. “Seemed smart to discuss it up front in case one of us is strongly opposed to animals in the house.”
“I’m good with it,” she says, nibbling the end of her pen. “I’m not sure we need to specify the quantity of cats. Twelve might be too many, but beyond that, we can rely on common sense.”
“Works for me.”
She flips a page, and her hand brushes my elbow on the way down. “So section eight, the stuff about living arrangements,” she continues. “My attorney had a few questions.”
“Fire away.”
We’re en route to Central Oregon on an emergency errand run.
The venue for Cassie and Simon’s rehearsal dinner fell through at the last second due to forest fires blazing around the area and a thick blanket of smoke covering the originally planned site.
Sarah and I offered to scope out a few spots, since the area’s not far from my mother’s place.
It’s a chance to see a part of the state that I haven’t visited for years. Not since right after Shane died.
“My attorney said for an arrangement like this, it might be worth considering some lifestyle clauses,” Sarah says.
“Lifestyle clauses?”
“Apparently they’re used a lot in celebrity prenups,” she says. “Stuff like, ‘the wife has to maintain a weight of one hundred and twenty pounds or she forfeits the rights to the ski house in Aspen.’ That sort of thing.”
“Jesus Christ.” I frown as I slip into the passing lane to get around a slow-moving horse trailer. “You’re not suggesting we put stuff like that in there?”
“No, not that,” she says. “It was just an example. But my lawyer did suggest we talk about an infidelity clause.”
“Infidelity clause?” I know I keep repeating her statements like an unprepared student stalling to answer the teacher’s question, but I can’t figure out what she’s driving at.
Why she’s bringing this up in the first place.
I glance over at her and see wisps of hair fluttering in a sunbeam cut through by the air conditioner. God, she’s beautiful.
“Given the—uh—unusual nature of our marriage, he says it’s important to define the rules,” she says. “Like okay, we’re not going to have this romantic, love-based marriage, but we’re going to have sex.”
“Obviously.” My brain veers a little off track there, and I order myself to stay focused.
“So is the marriage contract precluding us from sex with other people?” she asks. “And love with other people? And are there financial penalties if one of us breaks that?”
I glance over at her to see her brow creased with concern. Which of us is she worried about—herself, or me? Something tells me I should tread carefully here.
“Are you asking this stuff because of my dad?” I ask. “Because I’m the product of a serial cheater, so maybe I’ll do the same?”
“No, that’s not it at all.” Sarah drums the pen on the stack of papers, a nervous habit I remember from college. “It’s more that we need to be clear what we’re committing to. That we’re on the same page.”
I feel her eyes on me, so I take mine off the road for an instant. Her expression is unsure, and I’d take her in my arms if I weren’t driving. “Are you wanting to have other lovers? Like an open marriage or something?”
“That’s not it, either.” She shakes her head, her expression determined. “It’s the opposite, I guess. I’m willing to sign on for a marriage that’s not traditional, but I’m not willing to compromise on that.”
“Fidelity?”
“Right.” She clears her throat. “If we say ‘I do,’ then it’s just the two of us forever and ever. That’s not negotiable for me.”
“Me, either.” I don’t even have to think about my answer. We’re definitely on the same page with that one.
“Really?”
“Why do you sound surprised?”
“I don’t know. I guess I thought—I mean, if it’s more of a business arrangement, I wasn’t sure the traditional rules would apply.”
“The golden rule always applies,” I tell her. “And that means no dicking around on the other person. Period.”
I turn in time to see her smile. “No dicking around,” she repeats. “I’ll see if my lawyer can add that in.”
“Can you ask him to add a clause about threesomes? Because maybe we shouldn’t rule that out with sweeping statements about sex with other people.”
I’m totally kidding, so I’m surprised to see Sarah’s cheeks go pink. “I don’t think that would fall under an infidelity clause if it’s something we both agree to,” she says.
“Good point.” I clear my throat. “Okay, maybe we’re getting off track here. Just to be clear, you’re talking about physical cheating, right?”
“Right.”
Part of me doesn’t want to ask the next question, but I have to. I need to put it out there. “What about emotionally? Do you think you’ll be able to be fulfilled by—by this arrangement we’re planning?”
She doesn’t answer right away. I can see from her face that she’s trying to find the right words.
“I won’t pretend that I haven’t spent the last thirty years expecting a different sort of marriage.
Love and affection to go with the white picket fence.
So I can’t just switch off the TV and act like I haven’t been watching that movie. ”
“Understandable.” And it totally is.
So why do I feel a twist of sadness at taking that away from her? But I need to be clear.
“There’s no pressure, Sarah,” I tell her. “If you think you’re going to regret not holding out for what you wanted, we can call this off now. No hard feelings.”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s fine,” she says. “It’ll all be fine. It’s just a recalibration of sorts.”
She turns and smiles at me, and I can almost pretend I don’t see the doubt in her eyes. Am I being unfair to her? Is the arrangement I’m suggesting taking away a dream she could still pursue?
“I’m a big girl, Ian,” she says, reading my mind. “You know how I process things. If I go through with this, you can trust that I’ve thought through every nuance of this choice and come to the decision that’s best for me.”
“I always admired that about you. Your thoughtfulness. Your commitment to weighing all your options, considering all the factors.”
But it’s not her rational mind I’m worried about. It’s her heart. Not mine, not exactly, even though I’m feeling twinges of emotion I haven’t experienced for years. But that’s just the newness of it, and I’m positive it will fade.
As I stare out at the long stretch of highway in front of us, I hope to hell I’m right.
“Pardon the reindeer.” The woman with long, dark hair and a contagious smile pats the rump of a shaggy animal with branchlike antlers before shaking hands with Sarah, then me.
“We’re switching them from the upper pasture to the lower one, but some of them felt like hanging out here in the wedding reception meadow for a while. ”
“I can see why.” Sarah turns in a slow circle, taking in the views of snow-capped Cascade mountains flanked by waves of bright green grass.
There’s even a herd of cows grazing in the distance, lending the whole scene a postcard quality.
A creek burbles along beside us, and the air smells like sage and juniper.
“This place is gorgeous,” Sarah adds. “I can’t believe it’s available for the night we want.”
Amber, the venue owner, tosses her dark ponytail over one shoulder and keeps scratching the reindeer.
“You’d be out of luck if you wanted a Saturday or a Sunday,” she says.
“Those are booked solid for weddings for the next eighteen months or so, but we can accommodate a small Friday reception. Well, Sean can,” she amends with a smile.
“That’s my fiancé, the chef. He’ll be here any minute. ”
I survey the views, agreeing with Sarah that the place is stunning. I’ve loved the mountainous high deserts of Central Oregon since I was a kid, but I haven’t visited much in recent years. Not since just after Shane’s memorial.
“It’s a great place you have here,” I force out so I don’t get dragged down by dark thoughts. “Reindeer ranch in the winter, wedding venue in the spring and summer.”
Amber smiles. “My sister and I own this place, and Sean’s family owns the resort next door. We tag team events like this every now and then.”
She stops scratching the reindeer, who responds by headbutting her hand. Amber digs into her pocket and pulls out a shiny red apple, which she offers to Sarah. “You can feed it to her if you want,” she says. “Hold your hand out flat like this.”
Sarah does, laughing when the reindeer crunches into the treat. “This is so cool.”
It is. It really is. Being here with Sarah makes it even cooler. “I’ve never seen a live reindeer before.”
“You can pet her if you want,” Amber says. “This is Tammy, but her stage name is Dasher over the holidays.”
“Hi, Tammy.” I scratch her behind the ear the way Amber showed me, surprised at how soft her fur is.
“She likes you,” Sarah says.
“She’s about to go into heat, so she likes everyone right now.” Amber grins. “So, this is the space. We usually set up tables right over there for outdoor receptions, but the barn serves as a backup if we get thunderstorms or if the wildfire shifts and air quality deteriorates.”