Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
LINCOLN
Lincoln:
Where are you?
Willa:
Just because you put a ring on it doesn’t mean you get to demand my location any time you want.
Lincoln:
It’s not my fault you ran out of the courthouse before the ink was dry on our marriage certificate. We didn’t even get a picture.
Made me feel a bit used, actually.
Willa:
I AM using you. That’s the whole point of this.
Lincoln:
Just so everyone’s on the same page, if you want to use me while naked, I’m not opposed to that.
Willa:
I’m not dignifying that with a response.
Lincoln:
Fine. Answer my original question, wife.
Willa:
Why?
Lincoln:
Because I just stopped by your house to move in.
But apparently it’s not your house at the moment?
That was an awkward piece of information for a husband to learn about his wife from Mabel’s close, personal friends.
Willa:
Omfg
What did you say?
Did you TELL them we’re married?
Lincoln:
And admit I don’t know where my wife lives? Hard pass.
Willa:
Well, what DID you say?
It’s too soon to have busybodies already onto this sham!
The last people we need to know about this are Mabel’s cronies!
Lincoln:
Relax, hellcat.
They asked if I could help move a few pieces of furniture, so I did.
Shirtless.
And then I made them some iced tea because they were on the verge of passing out.
Believe me, they’re not going to remember anything else.
Willa:
Omg you’re the WORST.
Lincoln:
And yet you married me.
Willa:
I can hear your smugness all the way over here.
Lincoln:
Good, then it came through. Now tell me where my wife is living so I can haul my shit there.
Willa:
Um. No.
Lincoln:
Wtf do you mean, no?
Willa:
I mean, there’s no way in hell you’re living with me.
Lincoln:
Afraid that’s not an option, snookums.
We’re married, remember?
You know, that little event you attended this afternoon before bailing like you just robbed a bank?
Willa:
I have, unfortunately, not forgotten.
Lincoln:
Well, I hate to break this to you, but we’re going to have to cohabitate unless you want this little shared felony discovered before you can even apply for the grant.
Willa:
Obviously I don’t!
Lincoln:
Then what’s the holdup? You want to move in to my apartment instead?
I just figured you’d want to be as close to the farm as possible for wrangling your chickens and glaring at berry bushes before sunrise.
Willa:
We’re not living together in your apartment. And I’m staying in the converted silo right now. There’s no space for you and your ego.
Lincoln:
Don’t worry, wife. We’ll make it fit.