11. Daisy
CHAPTER 11
daisy
Landry and I both make it into the kitchen at the same time. His expression softens when he sees me in a white sundress.
“You look really nice,” he says quietly, shoving one of his hands into his pocket and fiddling with his car keys in the other.
“Thanks, so do you.” He’s wearing a fitted, white button down and dark slacks with a mint green tie. “My favorite color,” I add, pointing to the tie.
He shrugs shyly and reaches up to adjust it. “I didn’t have anything light green, but Lo let me raid Blake’s closet. And don’t worry, I didn’t tell her why I needed it.”
My stomach flutters when I think about the implications of him going out of his way for something so small. “That was really thoughtful of you.”
He shrugs again. “It was nothing. Grabbed these, too.” He pulls a hand from his pocket and opens his palm to reveal a couple of simple gold bands. “Were you able to get your flowers?”
“Right here.” I gesture to the kitchen counter where a small bouquet of pink and white camellias, roses, and daisies sits. “I made the arrangement myself.”
“You did a great job,” he replies awkwardly, shoving his hand back into his pocket.
I smile and blush at his compliment, then I step forward to straighten his tie. “Sorry, it’s still a little crooked,” I say, trying not to dwell on the feeling of his firm chest beneath my fingers or how good he smells.
“All done.” I take a step back. “Ready to go?”
He exhales. “I guess it’s now or never.”
It’s not the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard, but this isn’t exactly a romantic proposition, so I’ll take what I can get.
He takes me out to his Jeep and opens the door for me to climb inside, and he’s quiet on the way to the courthouse. In fact, he’s frowning at the road as he drives.
“So, um, you mentioned making an appointment with the judge?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Yes. I called ahead so we could go right in. I’m hoping it’ll give us more privacy.”
“Good thinking,” I tell him with a forced smile as he pulls into the parking lot.
“I don’t see Blake’s truck here, so I guess that’s a good sign. I was worried he’d have court today,” he says to himself, then he lets out a shaky exhale.
“Landry, wait.” I reach out and stop him as he goes for the door. “Are you sure you want to go through with this? I mean, I completely understand if you need to back out.”
He furrows his brow as he turns to face me. “Have you changed your mind?”
“No,” I say quickly. “But I don’t want you to have any regrets.”
“It’s strange,” he says absently, “but I can’t shake this feeling …”
“Hey, if your heart is telling you something isn’t right, then you should listen to it. It could be the Holy Spirit, you know?” I offer with a sad smile.
“No, it’s not like that. I think I’ve been waiting for something to come up, like a sign that we shouldn’t do this. But the only thing bothering me is that I don’t feel bad about it.”
I blink away my surprise. “Oh.”
“Maybe it’s because I’m sort of apathetic about marriage in general, but I can’t think of a good reason not to move forward with our plan. How do you feel?” he asks me.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath before I answer, searching for a trace of that doubt he mentioned. But it’s not there. “I feel … safe.” I grasp his hand and squeeze it. “Nervous, but safe. Strangely confident in our decision, but also anxious and excited because … well, because it’s my wedding day, I guess.”
He smiles and nods. “Yeah. Same.”
I don’t tell him that last part feels more like butterflies or that I suspect he’s the reason those butterflies have taken up permanent residence in my stomach. But they must be here because of Landry, since I’m pretty sure they arrived the moment he agreed to shack up with me.
I glance down at the bundle of flowers in my lap as the silver crucifix from my favorite rosary glints in the sunlight. I’d tucked the string of mint green beads into my bouquet earlier. It might seem silly or even superstitious to anyone else, especially when this isn’t a sacramental wedding, but I’ve always loved this tradition. I usually carry some form of a rosary on me as both a reminder to say the prayers and a reassurance that Mama Mary has my back. Aside from the sacraments, intercessory prayer is one of my favorite elements of the Catholic faith. I still pray directly, of course. But I take comfort in knowing that I can ask the Blessed Mother to whisper into Jesus’ ear on my behalf, especially since He has a hard time denying his mother’s requests.
“Landry.” I turn to face him. “I think we should pray together first.”
He flinches. “I … I don’t …”
I reach over and take his hand in mine, but he looks like he’s barely managing not to tug it back. “I know this isn’t a ceremony ordained by God or anything like that, and I realize it’s somewhat ironic since we aren’t doing this because we’re in love. But this is still a great act of love and charity on your part, one that I’m unbelievably grateful for.”
Landry’s throat bobs, and he nods hesitantly, and I could swear his eyes even look a little glossy. “You’ll have to say it, though—the prayer.”
I smile and give his hand a slight squeeze before I use the other to make the sign of the cross, stifling a laugh at the way he adorably and awkwardly tries to use his left hand to mime the gesture. Then I repeat my affirmations, adding a request for God to bless us in our endeavor before leading Landry in the Our Father, Hail Mary, and Glory Be.
I sneak a peek at him and watch his lips twitch slightly, as if he’s at least attempting the prayers, and that small effort is enough to reinforce our decision.
He lets go of my hand once we’re done and swallows hard again. “Okay. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but let’s go get married.”
“Okay,” I affirm.
He walks around the car for my door, and I quickly flip down the visor mirror to check my appearance. Then I take the hand he offers while holding my bouquet in the other and let him lead me into the courthouse.
The next fifteen minutes or so are a blur, and I’m grateful Landry’s so thorough in his planning, because those butterflies have started kicking my butt. My hands are trembling so badly that I can hear the rosary beads rattling in my bouquet. It’s all I can do to follow his lead like a lost puppy.
Before I know it, we’re standing in front of a judge and a clerk, holding hands and exchanging rings as we repeat our amended wedding vows. Strange as it sounds, making a promise to respect, honor, and support Landry for the rest of my life feels like the most natural part of all this. He doesn’t waiver when it’s his turn to stare into my eyes and make the same pledge, confirming my suspicions about his inherent goodness, and I choke back an unexpected sob when I realize there will always be some part of me that loves him. How could I feel any other way about the man who’s willing to do this for me?
“By the power vested in me by the great state of Louisiana, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The judge smiles. “You may kiss your bride, son.”
Landry’s expression shifts to one of terror, killing the warm, fuzzy vibes we had going a second ago. I guess he hadn’t thought this far ahead, though I’ve been lying awake nearly every night since we agreed to our marriage of convenience and wondering whether he’d kiss me at the altar—or the desk, I suppose.
The judge glances back and forth between us, confused by our hesitation, so I lean in and aim my lips at Landry’s cheek. He must have the same idea, because he places a hand on my back and turns his face at the same time I close in, bumping his mouth awkwardly into mine. Our lips meet for a second, barely long enough to consider it a real kiss, albeit a closed-mouth one.
But a moment later, something different flashes across his dark eyes. He takes me by surprise and splays his hand over my spine, urging me closer so he can intentionally press his lips back to mine. I instinctively close my eyes and lean into the kiss, and he tilts his head to the side as he slips his tongue into my mouth. My free hand flies up to his chest as I take him in, but he pulls away abruptly, ending it as quickly as it began.
My cheeks burn after we part, and I roll my lips in, wishing they’d stop tingling. Landry clears his throat loudly and furrows his brow. I can’t tell whether he’s confused or embarrassed but knowing his aversion to any and all public displays of physical affection, I imagine it’s the second. He must have decided we needed to make the kiss look realistic in front of our audience and regretted his decision as soon as I reciprocated too enthusiastically.
“Congratulations, Dr. and Mrs. Reed,” the judge continues, grinning this time. He holds out his hand for Landry to shake, then turns his attention to the marriage certificate sitting on his desk. The clerk shows us where to sign before she jots down her own signature, and the bailiff at the door comes over to fill in the last witness line. I ask the clerk to take a couple of photos with my phone, just in case we need them later, and my heart races when Landry pulls me close to pose as a happy couple again. Then we’re ushered out into the hallway to wait there for the official copies we’ll need to add my name to Landry’s health insurance policy.
“Well, that didn’t take long,” Landry mumbles absentmindedly.
“No, it didn’t.” I glance down at the plain, gold band resting on my left hand. I can’t help the way my eyes immediately water. I know this is what I agreed to, and it’s not like I expected or even hoped Landry would change his mind and want this to be a real marriage. I honestly couldn’t consider this any more than a legal contract, either, despite my admiration of him. But that doesn’t stop my chin from trembling as reality sets in.
Landry shoots me a pitying look, and I lose control of my tear ducts. “Dammit,” he curses under his breath and darts into the nearest bathroom to retrieve a tissue. “You’re already having regrets, aren’t you?” he asks when he returns.
I try to cover up my sniffling and accept his offering. “No, no, I’m fine, just unexpectedly emotional.” I pull away and wipe beneath my eyes. “I hadn’t accounted for trapping my roommate into a marriage of convenience and guilting him into a courthouse wedding when I dreamed about this day as a little girl, you know,” I say with a light chuckle, but Landry stares at me for a moment.
“Daisy …” His voice is hoarse when he finally speaks up. “I meant what I said before. You’re not trapping me into anything, and you’re not a burden, okay?”
I nod, unable to meet his eyes. Then I hear him groan before he reaches out to wrap his arms around me. My body instantly melts into his while my mouth curls up into a smile. A hug and a kiss from him in the same day? I’m on a roll.
“This is the kind of stuff friends and family do for one another,” he continues over my shoulder, reaching up to gently stroke my back.
Friends and family …
It’s too bad my husband will only ever see me as one if not both of those and not as a wife, a partner, or even a lover.
I let out a small whine, annoyed at myself for throwing an unwarranted pity party. I knew exactly what to expect from this arrangement. It’s too late to feel sorry for myself now.
But it’s my wedding day … and I may never get another one.
I cling to him a second longer, indulging in his intoxicatingly woodsy cologne and rugged chest muscles while I can—you know, just in case. He moves my hair over and away from my face, and his fingertips begin trailing lightly over my neck and shoulders as if he’s tracing a pattern. I shiver, and he sighs.
“You okay?” he asks tentatively, probably mistaking that shiver for a sob.
“Mm-hmm,” I squeak out. “You?”
He pulls away to check on me anyway before he answers. “I’m fine.”
“Thank you, Landry,” I breathe.
“Reed?” a voice calls out.
“I guess that’s us,” Landry says with a shy smile, making those butterflies in my stomach flutter around again. He leaves me standing there to retrieve a copy of our marriage certificate, and we’re both silent as we walk to the car together and he drives us home.
A heavy awkwardness settles over everything by the time we find ourselves standing in the kitchen together. It’s not the same demure apprehension that lingered between us the last time we stood in this same spot just over an hour ago. This time, there’s a quiet, clumsy what now? hanging in the air.
I set my bouquet down and begin picking at one of the roses while he leans back against the counter, crossing his arms and drumming his fingers idly over his elbow. He stops and looks down at the ring on his left hand before he hides it behind the opposite arm.
“So, um, I guess I’m good to turn in that paperwork now,” he offers after a while.
“Right,” I return with a forced smile.
He nods absently. “What should we have for dinner tonight?”
I sigh. “I’m not even sure what I’m going to have for lunch.”
He huffs out a laugh. “You’re right. It’s only eleven in the morning.” I fidget uncomfortably, and he opens his mouth to speak again.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. What’s ‘marital debt?’ ”
“Hmm?” I squeak.
“You mentioned it before, but I’m not familiar with the phrase.”
I feel the tips of my ears reddening. “Oh. Well, it’s um … are you sure you’ve never heard the term before?”
He shakes his head. “No. Is it a trad-Catholic thing?”
I shrug. “I guess you could say that.”
“I almost asked Rowan what it meant the other day, but I figured it’d be suspicious out of context.”
A small, strangled sound escapes my throat. “Please tell me you didn’t?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “So it’s … that kind of debt?”
“I don’t think the euphemism was intended to exclusively refer to the type of debt you’d be calling in right now if we would have gotten married for any other reason, but yeah … pretty much.” My stomach dips at the mere thought of what a real wedding night with Landry might look like.
His eyes flare slightly, but we’re interrupted by his phone chiming before he can say more. “Sorry, it’s Lo,” he mumbles. “She wants to know when we were planning to tell her that we moved in together.”
“Should we have asked her before we made that arrangement since this is technically still her house?” I cringe.
He shrugs and frowns down at the phone. “It shouldn’t make a difference to her. She should be worrying about her babies and not about our living arrangements, anyway.” But his face reddens, and he clenches his jaw as he continues reading. Then he growls under his breath as he types in a quick reply.
“Is she upset?” I venture.
He huffs and puts the phone away. “She’s questioning my intentions for moving in with you.”
“Oh,” I say on a laugh. “No worries there.”
My comment doesn’t seem to register with him, though. He’s too angry now. “Yeah, well, she doesn’t have much room to talk in this situation.”
“I’m sure if I explained why I need you to drive me around, she’d understand.”
“I thought you didn’t want anyone else to know about your last couple of seizures?”
I shrug. “She should know that you’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart and not because you’re trying to hook up with me. And I’m sure I can trust her, right?”
But he shakes his head. “Don’t bother. There’s nothing you can say to make my sister think I’m anything but a jerk.” The way he says it so matter-of-factly makes my chest ache. “But, hey, at least you know she cares about you, right?” he adds sardonically.
I sigh. “Yeah. Look who’s becoming the optimist now.”
“I guess you’re rubbing off on me,” he replies, his tone still flat. “Anyway, back to lunch. How does this work now that we’re married?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Which one of us is supposed to make the other a sandwich?” he poses, stifling a smirk as he reaches up to loosen his tie.
A laugh escapes before I can stop myself. “Should we make fancy ones today?”
“Oh, you’re right. While you’re at it, I want extra jam on mine,” he says with a grin, but he’s already walking toward the fridge to get the ingredients. And I can’t help the way my chest tightens against my will when he goes out of his way to make me feel better for the umpteenth time today.
He places a jar of strawberry preserves on the counter at the same time I reach for the bread, my left hand bumping his. We both freeze in place to stare down at the gold bands we slipped on earlier.
Landry coughs lightly before he jerks his hand back. “Guess we won’t be needing these, right?” He removes his ring and holds it up with a rueful smile.
“Right,” I agree quietly, and he wanders off, presumably to put the ring away.
I follow his lead, stopping in front of a small jewelry box on my dresser. I glance up to find a green ribbon hanging from a bulletin board, and I loop the ribbon through the ring instead.
By the time I return to the kitchen, Landry’s already busy spreading peanut butter over bread. I notice he’s removed his tie and left the top buttons of his shirt undone when he cranes his neck to smile at me over his shoulder, reminding me of how much I like him already.
Did I really expect myself to walk away unscathed after living with him? Is it even possible not to fall for my husband?
“Here,” he says, bringing me back from my thoughts. “I cut them in to triangles, since you seemed to like that last time.”
I take the plate from him, our fingers brushing again, and my mind flashes back to the feeling of his hand on my back, coaxing my body closer to his as he pressed his lips to mine. I glance up at his mouth and swallow hard.
“Thanks,” I murmur, trying to tear my eyes away. But all I manage to do is shift my focus to the patch of exposed skin between his throat and his chest. It’s really too bad he’s not interested in collecting that debt.
“No worries, Mrs. Reed,” he replies coyly before he turns back to the kitchen.
I sigh. Maybe it’s my intentions Loren should be questioning.