22. Chapter 22
Mackenzie
W ith the school year ending, Tal and I have been spending every minute we can together.
I’m anxious about this summer. What if he decides he doesn’t want me anymore? What if he realizes I’m not as great as he thought? What if he meets someone else?
Everything will be fine. We’re meant to be.
It’s almost his birthday, and I have a gift I hope will keep him thinking about me all summer. I’ve written him ten letters, one for each week he’ll be gone. Hopefully it gives him something to look forward to.
We’re having our cast party for the musical tonight, and usually these things make me happy, but this one is bittersweet.
This party signifies the end of junior high. I didn’t get into the musical at the high school like Tal and some of our friends did, and it’s been a hard thing to come to terms with.
I heard they’re incorporating a dance company, though, so hopefully I can be part of it. I don’t know what I’ll do with my time if I don’t have the musical.
It felt like a bad sign when I wasn’t on the cast sheet, but I’m hoping it means there’s something bigger that’ll happen for me—something better.
I didn’t sleep a wink last night.
I was overheated from wearing too many clothes, and then I got even hotter with Tal’s body heat in the bed when I’m used to being alone.
Not to mention how hot and bothered I got knowing he wasn’t wearing any fucking underwear. Him going commando shouldn’t be so hot.
He said it so casually. Like not wearing underwear in front of your fake wife isn’t a huge fucking deal.
And maybe it wouldn’t be if the circumstances around it weren’t so bonkers. Cutting up his garments was a big deal and asking me to help him pick out underwear?
That’s real wife stuff. Not fake wife stuff.
The men’s underwear section is our first stop when we get to the store. Luckily, we came early enough it’s not crowded, and Tal is acting like we’re at Disneyland instead of Wal Mart.
“Woah. There are a lot of options,” he murmurs when he sees the wall of men’s underpants .
He starts reading the descriptions, feeling the fabric through the little hole, and occasionally asking for my opinion.
I’m not sure why he thinks I’m an expert, but I guess I know more than him.
“Do you want them to fit like garments?” I ask.
Tal nods. “I used to buy garments a size smaller and in “short” so they weren’t so long and baggy. I’d like something similar, but shorter. Hoochie daddy season is approaching, afterall.”
“Where did you learn about ‘hoochie daddy season?’” I balk. But the image of him in those little shorts…
Yeah. I can’t deny it'd be hot.
“I’m on social media, Mack.” The implied “duh” makes me want to roll my eyes.
“Right, and you want to be in your slutty little shorts era?”
“Sure. I’ll have to buy some of those next.”
Who is this man? This is a side of Talmage I never thought would exist.
“Maybe I should custom order some underwear with Siren’s face on them,” he muses, picking up a pack of slim-fit boxer briefs in varying colors.
“Please, no.” I tap the pack he’s holding. “These would probably be the most comfortable for you, but you might have to keep trying different styles or sizes until you find one you like.”
“All right, I’ll trust your judgment. But I still might order some with Siren’s face on them. Maybe I’ll get us matching pairs.” He tosses a playful wink my way, and this time I do roll my eyes .
“Come on, let’s get the rest of the groceries before it gets busy.” I make to grab the cart, but Talmage tosses the pack of underwear into it and bumps me with his hip, taking my place.
“A lady should never have to push her own cart,” he says by way of explanation.
I huff out an exasperated laugh through my nose but don’t fight him.
“Okay, where are we starting with the list?” Tal asks, grabbing it from his pocket. He’s completely commandeered my grocery shopping, and I don’t know how to feel about it.
Last night, while I finished my dinner, we made a meal plan. I can cook, don’t get me wrong, but I kind of just… go with the vibes and cook whatever seems easiest that night.
Tal, though? He’s prepared. He gave me a calendar with his schedule for the month and made sure to jot down when Harper has late rehearsals and Kinsley has chemistry club so he could make sure they would have food when they came home.
Then, he proceeded to ask for our favorite meals and looked up recipes for each, jotting down ingredients as he went.
It was nice, not having to figure out everything on my own.
Kinsley and Harper never know what they want to eat, so it’s like pulling teeth to decide on dinner.
Most of the time, they’re gone with school stuff or holed up doing homework and make their own food, so I end up heating up a frozen dinner and calling it a night.
Their lunches consist of PB&Js or turkey and cheese sandwiches with a bag of chips if they take one, or they use their small allowance to go out to lunch with their friends.
They refuse to eat school lunch, which is fine. I never ate it, either.
Tal’s excitement surrounding cooking is a breath of fresh air.
I’ll just have to make sure I don’t get used to it since this isn’t going to last forever.
We’re halfway through our list when we turn down the bread aisle and see two men standing at the end of the aisle looking at the loaves.
“Oh shoot,” Tal whispers, looking behind us.
“What? Do you know them?”
“Yeah, they’re from the singles ward. I know of them, but we’re not, like, best friends.”
“Maybe they won’t recognize you—”
“Brother Monson! How’s it going?” the taller one with sand colored hair shouts. The other one has blonde hair so light it looks white. They both approach, and Tal’s demeanor visibly changes.
“Hey, guys. Bread for the sacrament?” Tal nods his head towards the two loaves they’ve got.
The blonde man chuckles nervously. “Yeah, bro. I know we’re not supposed to be shopping on a Sunday, but I think The Lord would rather us take the sacrament, right?”
“The Relief Society was supposed to bake it this week, but the president got the flu and cancelled the activity.” The sandy haired guy nudges his friend and rolls his eyes.
I clamp my lips closed to keep myself from saying something that would hurt their feelings.
Tal cringes. “Right, yeah. That’s… sad for her. I hope she’s okay. ”
“Ah, you know women. They bounce back fast. We’ll have fresh bread next week, guaranteed.” The blonde guy looks at our cart, then zeroes his gaze on Tal’s left ring finger—where his wedding ring sits. His eyes narrow. “You no longer part of the ward, Brother Monson?”
I glance over at Tal to see his reaction, and his smile is soft as his gaze meets mine. “Nope. Got married yesterday. This is my wife, Mackenzie.”
I know it’s proper and polite to shake hands, but they look like they don’t wash theirs for anything other than to break the sacrament bread—maybe not even then—so I just give an awkward wave.
Both men appraise me, their gazes like slugs slithering on my skin as they inevitably pick apart every flaw and “sinful” thing about me.
From my makeup-less face, to my pierced nose, to my round body.
They can’t see my tattoos due to the hoodie and leggings I’m wearing, but I’m sure that’s not what they’d find most unappealing about me.
Their faces morph into something like disgust mixed with incredulity.
“ This is your wife? I didn’t even know you were dating anyone,” Sandy Hair practically sneers.
Talmage puts a protective arm around my waist, his thumb rubbing soothingly up and down on my hip.
“It was a sudden thing. High school sweethearts who fell apart, but when we reconnected? It was like everything fell into place. When you know, you know, and I knew the minute she came back into my life I couldn’t let her get away again. ”
Why does he make it sound so dreamy?
The two dudes share a puzzled look before Bleach clears his throat. “Well, congratulations, I guess? We should run. Wouldn’t want to be late for the sacrament meeting. People are counting on us for their salvation, after all.”
Gag.
“Yep. Bye.” Sandy and Bleach turn and scurry down the aisle like if they stay next to us a minute longer, they’ll become apostate by proximity.
“Well, that was fun.” Talmage gives my hip a squeeze, then releases his hold on me and pushes the cart forward, stopping in front of the bagels.
I can’t help the snort that comes out of me. “Yeah, nothing like a good old-fashioned judging on a Sunday morning.”
“I think it went as well as it could have gone. They’ll probably just go to church and forget all about it.”
I gape at him. “Tal, are you kidding? They’re about to walk into those meetings and tell everyone they know Talmage Monson married a harlot or some shit.
You’re going to become the new boogeyman.
” I lower my voice like I’m a man. “‘Talmage Monson is an example of what happens when you stray from the teachings. Do not let temptation lead you astray.’ They’re going to use you as a lesson now.
I’d be surprised if the bishop doesn’t call you personally to make sure you haven’t been possessed by a demon. ”
Tal’s eyes go wide. “Oh, sh- shit. They’re totally going to do that.” He tilts his head in thought before shrugging. “Oh, well. I can’t change it now, can I? They’re going to talk no matter what. Their opinions on how I live my life don’t matter. ”
“Tal! You swore!” I gasp. “First the garments, then grocery shopping on a Sunday, and now swearing?” I shake my head, but I can’t stop the small smile. “Who even are you right now?”
His smile is so wide, so proud, it makes my heart beat a little faster. I want to kiss him.
“I guess becoming your husband was the first step to becoming who I want to be. I always knew great things would come from being married to you.”
With that nugget of praise, he continues shopping as if he didn’t just dislodge another brick from the wall around my heart.