14. Lily
14
Lily
We’re still the talk of the town, even though we’ve been “married” for seven weeks. I hear there are bets on how long we’re going to last. Maybe I should get in on them. If I wager that we’ll last four months, I could totally clean up.
At this moment, however, I’m not really thinking about the town or the nosy, judgmental people who live here. Maybe because I’m being driven out of it. I mean, literally. Orson is driving, and I’m enjoying the view of the suburbs where Jake Capaldi lives.
I’ll be honest; I was surprised when Orson told me we’d been invited to a dinner party at his house.
“I didn’t realize you guys were still that close,” I said when he asked.
He raised his eyebrows and gave me a half smile. “Are you kidding? He’s the only reason I made it through high school alive.”
Orson also told me that Jake was doing pretty well for himself, and by the looks of the houses we’re driving by—monumental buildings with huge manicured gardens and double garages—it appears he wasn’t exaggerating.
We pull into the driveway of one of these huge houses, and by the looks of it, the others who have been invited are already here because there are four cars up ahead of us. Jake might be doing well, but I can hardly imagine he needs four cars.
“Are you ready?” Orson says when he brings the car to a stop.
I look at him nervously. “I think so.”
This is the first time we’ve really been up close and personal with other people. Wandering down the street holding hands is one thing. Having to act like we’re married in such close quarters is something else entirely.
“Just remember what we talked about at the apartment,” Orson says calmly. “We’re playing a role. That’s all. You know the way you smile at Cindy Caldwell, even though you want to wring her neck?”
I burst out laughing. “I do.”
He grins. “This is no different. Just don’t jump out of your skin if I drape my arm around your shoulders. I don’t want them thinking I’m a wife beater.”
I take a deep and shaky breath in. “All right.”
Orson looks at me for a long moment. “But you know the most important thing I want you to do tonight?”
I shake my head.
He smiles widely. “Enjoy yourself, Lily. Just relax and have a good time.”
When we get to the door, I brace myself for whatever the evening might bring.
“Lily!” Jake throws his arms open wide and gives me a bear hug like we’ve been best friends forever. I’m a little taken aback, but Orson seems to be amused.
The men embrace in a hug that expresses they have, indeed, been friends forever, and then we’re introduced to everyone else. Tara, Jake’s wife, is a beautiful woman with oval eyes of deep brown and swarthy skin. Her smile is wide and genuine.
Then there’s Peter and Phylis, who prefers Phil. Peter is small and stocky, whereas Phil is slender and petite. Gary and Wendy are the last couple we’re introduced to. Gary has super light blond eyebrows that match his hair and looks like he comes from a Nordic country, while Wendy is a plump redhead with a beaming smile that makes her face light up.
It’s some consolation that Orson hasn’t met these people before, either. At least I’m not the late-comer friend who has to try to fit in with a close group. He hasn’t left my side, but I don’t get the feeling it has anything to do with the fact that we’re supposed to be newly married. In fact, it’s almost like he’s guarding me, protecting me, there for support more than anything else. It does give me some comfort, and as well as that, I think it’s rather sweet.
The next surprise comes when we sit down at the large oak dining table in a beautiful dining room. Tara sits with us while Jake remains standing. Clearly, I must look confused because Jake laughs at me. “I do the cooking in this house, Lily.”
I feel a blush rushing to my cheeks, but I’m saved from the spotlight when the other wives nod agreeably.
“Just the way it should be,” Wendy jokes.
“Can I take him home?” Phil says to Tara. This remark elicits a feigned look of offense from Peter, which has us all laughing.
“I think you’d bring him back pretty quickly,” Tara says with a grin. “He loves cooking, but hates the cleaning up afterward.”
“Which is why we have a dishwasher, darling,” Jake cuts in playfully.
As the meal gets underway, the conversation flows easily as I learn who does what, where they are from, how long they’ve been together, and all the usual topics that get discussed at dinner parties. At some point, Orson drapes his arm over my shoulder, like he said he would, and like I promised, I don’t jump out of my skin.
Something else happens instead.
He’s leaning in so close to me, and I can feel the heat from his body. I also get a whiff of that wonderful cologne he wears all the time. I usually smell it in the apartment or just after he’s finished in the bathroom. On those occasions, I’ve inhaled and enjoyed the musky scent of sandalwood and patchouli. Yes, I will admit, the sensation that catches in my chest is more than just appreciation of good quality cologne.
At this moment, however, my stomach is clenching, and I’m feeling heat spread through my body. It’s not just the wine and the laughter. It’s something far more dangerous.
I’m not a fool. I know we’ve already had shared moments. But there’s been nothing definitive. The crush I had for Orson in high school never really went away. I mean, it’s not like we were dating and then broke up. I always wondered what dating him might feel like, but I never had the courage to ask him out.
Jake makes a joke and Orson laughs, which doesn’t help at all. Apart from the fact that his laugh does something to my insides, I can also feel the reverberating energy flowing from his body into mine.
A part of me wants to excuse myself. For Orson, this is just a pathway to his inheritance, and I don’t want to get hurt. But my heart battles with my head, and in the end, my heart wins, and I stay put.
When dinner is over, we’re led out into the backyard. My eyes are wide once more as I take it all in. There’s a large dining set sitting on a concrete base in the middle of the lawn. At each corner of the square are four thick posts about eight feet high. Outdoor globe lights hang from one post to the other, segregating the whole area and bathing it in a soft glow.
“Oh, this is just beautiful,” I gasp.
“It took a lot of encouragement.” Tara smirks.
Jake cocks his head at me. “She means nagging, Lily. It took a lot of nagging.”
I’ve loved getting to know these couples over the course of the evening, but when I see Tara and Jake together—their playful banter, and yet utmost respect for each other—it gives me a warm feeling inside. Not the same warm feeling I get sitting next to Orson. That’s a completely different feeling altogether.
More beer and wine are consumed, though the drivers are all on either non-alcoholic beers or juice, and things get even more merry.
“Truth or dare,” Gary exclaims when the subject of games comes up. “Come on. We should do it. It’ll be fun.”
“You know you’re nearly thirty-eight years old, right?” Wendy exclaims.
“Who cares?” her husband replies cheerily.
One might think it’s the beer talking, but Gary isn’t even drinking.
Clearly, nobody needed much encouragement, and after lots of laughter and comments about feeling like teenagers, a beer bottle was placed on the table and the game got underway.
Once again, Orson has draped his arm around my shoulders, but after my third glass of wine, I’m rather enjoying his closeness. Who cares if my feelings for him are growing incrementally by the day?
You should.
Maybe. But not tonight. Tonight, I’m going to do exactly what my fake husband instructed me to do and just enjoy myself. Maybe I’m enjoying pretending Orson is my husband a little too much, but as I snuggle into him, I don’t care about that, either.
Jake spins the bottle again after Wendy, Gary, and Phil have all been put under the spotlight. I watch it spin, and eventually, it stops at Orson. I feel him heave a sigh and then chuckle.
“Play nice, Jake.”
Jake is grinning mischievously. “What do you want? Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” Orson says without hesitation.
“Ooh,” Phil wails, as though Orson’s put himself in danger.
The rest of the table is whooping encouragingly. Of course, I know exactly the reason he’s picked dare. Right now, truth is a very fluid word for the two of us.
“Get him to run around the garden in his bare feet,” Phil cackles.
“No, sing us a song,” Gary yells.
“What about a dance?” Peter snorts.
Jake is eyeing Orson, a smile dancing on his lips. Clearly, he has something fun in mind. It’s written all over his face. I lift my glass to my lips, and just as I’m about to take a sip, Jake says, “I dare you to kiss your beautiful wife.”
I swallow a gasp and tense. Thank the Lord I hadn’t taken a sip of my wine, or else Wendy would currently be wearing it.
“I can’t embarrass Lily like that,” Orson says, though I can hear the lack of conviction in his words.
“Oh, come on,” Gary says. “She’s your wife. You won’t embarrass her. He won’t embarrass you, will he, Lily?”
I’ve been put on the spot, and as every eye looks directly at me, I can feel heat rushing from the soles of my feet right to the top of my head.
“Come on, guys,” Orson begins.
I don’t know where the words come from, but they fly out of my mouth, anyway. “Of course he won’t.”
I shift to look up at him, and all I can see is uncertainty. Not for himself, but for me.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” I smile.
He turns to the others. “You are all going to pay for this,” he snarls playfully.
“Yes, yes,” Wendy says, waving a hand like she doesn’t believe a word he says. “Just kiss her already.”
When his full lips reach mine, it feels better than I could ever have imagined. And I imagined it often all those years ago. My heart dances, sparks fly across every part of my being, and as I grip his thick bicep, I don’t want to let go. I can feel the heat of his hand as it rests on my back. I’m intoxicated by his aroma, and I slip into absolute bliss in the moment.
“All right, get a room,” someone says from across the table.
That sets us both off laughing, and the moment is broken. Which is probably a good thing. Right?
I flash a glance up at him, and I’m completely taken aback when I notice his eyes full of desire as he gazes down at me.
Holy cow!
Did he feel it too?
You know he did. You felt it when he kissed you.
Maybe I did. Maybe I’m too terrified to imagine that there could be something more between us. But as his gaze lingers, making me blush, maybe I don’t have to use my imagination.