Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Jason
“I’m still disappointed we couldn’t be there for the real thing,” my mom says over the phone. I’m about to go on the road again, and we’re chatting about the upcoming reception.
The week I’ve spent at home with Hailey has been amazing. We won our first game of the season at home, and I got to celebrate with my team afterward and then with Hailey at home. And she’s slept in my bed every night since I got back.
Hearing my mom refer to our little park wedding as “the real thing” makes me smile. “I know, Mom, and I’m sorry about that. It all happened so quickly. There wasn’t time for you and Dad to fly out.”
“I know.” Mom sniffs. “Still. I’m glad you’re at least having this reception.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say that we’ll do a vow renewal or a big ceremony for family, but I don’t want to promise that without running it by Hailey first. Plus … despite how things have progressed, I’m still not sure she’s in this for keeps.
Yes, we’re married. Yes, we’re acting like a couple. But … there’s still hesitation around so many things.
She’s been sleeping in my room, but all her things are still in her room. She still primarily uses her own bathroom, unless I suggest taking a shower together. I know she likes my shower, but I also know she won’t use it when I’m gone for this next stretch of away games.
And the way she reacts when I compliment her? I’m not really sure what that’s about. She always clams up and shuts down, which is … odd to me.
But I don’t get the feeling she’s upset. More like she doesn’t know how to respond. She’ll usually at least murmur a quiet, “Thank you,” but every so often she runs away while trying to make it look like she’s not.
I want to talk to someone about it, but I don’t know who. Or even how to bring it up. “Hey, my wife—who’s really more my roommate who I’ve started fucking—acts funny when I give her compliments and tell her I like her. What do you think I should do?”
Considering everyone assumes we’re happy newlyweds, it’s impossible to find someone to discuss it with. I’ve thought about talking to Bouchard, but I know he won’t be any help. He’ll just congratulate me.
“Well, let us know if there’s anything we can do to help,” Mom says, bringing me back to the present conversation.
“We have an event planner who’s doing most of the heavy lifting, so I’m sure we’ll be fine.
But if I think of anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.
” I say the last sentence over my mom’s burgeoning protest that they like feeling useful.
It’s the same one I’ve heard hundreds of times.
She’s always tidying and dusting when they come to visit, even though I’ve told her every time that I have someone to do all that for me.
She insists that she just wants to feel useful.
So I’ve stopped fighting it. Which means I’ll need to warn Hailey that we’ll need to give my parents something to be in charge of.
It’ll make the event more pleasant for everyone.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you when you get here. I know you and Dad normally stay in the guest room—”
“We’ve already booked a hotel,” Mom cuts in. “We know you two are still in the honeymoon phase—especially since you didn’t even take that poor girl on a real honeymoon. We don’t want to intrude. We just want to be there to help you celebrate.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I say, breathing a little easier. “I really appreciate that.”
“Plus, then it’ll be easier to not have to explain to your in-laws why you’re hosting us and not them. You can host them, or you can explain that your home is your sanctuary and everyone’s getting a hotel room.”
“Wow. You’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“Well, of course I have!” Mom protests. “I don’t want to put you in a bad position, especially since you swooped in out of the clear blue sky and married their daughter without so much as an invitation to either of your parents.”
“Heh. Yeah. Good point.” Speaking of inviting Hailey’s parents … I’m not sure if she has or not. The last time I brought it up, she didn’t give me a straight answer. But I want to know if they’re coming or not. Or if they even know that we’re married. Surely she’s at least told them that, though …
Mom and I chat for a few more minutes—she updates me on life in Madison, and I fill her in on how things are going here with Hailey—and then I hang up and go find my wife. I grin at that thought.
My wife …
She’s in her room, concentrating on her laptop, earphones on, her brows pulled together in a frown. The door’s cracked open, so I think it’s okay for me to interrupt, but I knock on the doorjamb to get her attention.
She startles a little, hitting a key before looking up. Her face clears when she sees it’s me—though who else it would be, I’m not sure—and she smiles. “Hey! Off the phone?”
“Yeah. Mom said to tell you hi.”
“Aww. Hi back to your mom.”
“Speaking of moms …” I start, and her smile immediately dies, replaced by a wary look. I hold up my hands like I’m showing I’m unarmed. “I know it’s a touchy subject, but the reception is in less than two weeks, and I still don’t know if your parents are coming or not.”
She sighs. Looks away. “I haven’t told them,” she mumbles.
“You haven’t told them about the reception? Or you haven’t told them we’re married at all?” At least now I’ll get confirmation about that one.
When she shakes her head, I take that as meaning she hasn’t told them anything. She glances at me and sighs again, though this one sounds much more aggravated. “Look, my parents aren’t like your parents, okay? You know that.”
“I do,” I say slowly. “And if you don’t want to invite them, I completely understand and support you a hundred percent. I just …” I shake my head. “If you haven’t even told them we’re married …”
“What?” she asks, her tone demanding. “If I haven’t told them we’re married, then what?”
I turn my hands palms up and shrug. “I don’t understand what you’re waiting for. Unless … are you just wanting to cut them off entirely?”
She throws her hands up in the air. “I don’t know, Jason. I don’t even know what to tell them. What I should tell them. I know you’re okay with letting everyone think this is for real, but I don’t like lying to my parents.”
My head jerks back, her words hitting me like an elbow to the face. “Oh. Uh, okay. I—I see.”
Her face crumples. “No, Jason, come on. You know—I mean, I know we’re doing … this.” She gestures between us. “What we’ve been doing. But also, has anything really changed? You said yourself this was more of a business agreement than anything. You’re helping me out. And my parents …”
Nothing she’s saying makes me feel better, but I swallow the hurt, trying to keep my face and tone bland. “What about your parents?”
“They wouldn’t understand,” she says quietly.
“I see.”
“Do you?”
That gives me pause, and I take a few deep breaths before shaking my head. “Actually, no. I don’t think I do. I have to admit that I’m not really sure I understand what we’re doing here either.” I swallow hard. “I thought … well, I guess I thought we were on the same page. But apparently …”
“No, Jason, come on. Please. Don’t be like that.” She stands, reaching for me, and I take a step back.
“Don’t be like what?”
“Don’t read more into this than what I mean. You said—”
“I said,” I interrupt, “that I wanted you to stay. I said that I wanted this to be for real. Or did you conveniently forget that part? It wasn’t that long ago. I said I do. And I meant it. Even if you didn’t.”
“Jason,” she repeats my name in a tone that’s almost pitying. “Guilt and a white-knight complex aren’t a great basis for a relationship.”
I rear back like she’s slapped me again. “Is that … you seriously think that’s what this is?”
She spreads her hands. “Isn’t it?”
“Wow,” I breathe, feeling strangely hollow. “Wow.”
“Jason, come on,” she says again. “Ever since you came back into my life, you’ve been riding to my rescue.
That was your whole proposal in a nutshell.
You promised Hunter you’d take care of me, you felt guilty that you let me get to the point where a broken-down car was enough to break me, and this was your solution.
Just because we actually like spending time together and are having sex now doesn’t change any of that. ” She pauses, studying me. “Does it?”
“Doesn’t it?” I counter. “I thought it did,” I mutter, shaking my head. “So should we just cancel the reception? Tell everyone it’s a sham?”
“No, that’s not …” She shakes her head. “I didn’t say that. And you’ve already put down all those deposits. They’re non-refundable.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “You think I care about that?”
“But Nick … and Tina and the rest of your friends …”
“What about them?”
“They want to celebrate with us. We should let them.”
“And what, exactly, are we celebrating?”
She spreads her hands again. “Can’t we just have a party and not worry so much about the details?”
“Heh. Well, funnily enough, this is a detail that kinda matters. Don’t you think?”
When she just stares at me, open-mouthed, obviously at a loss for words, I whirl on my heel and head to my room.
I don’t want to hear any more of her explanations or justifications.
I can’t … I have to get ready to go. We’re leaving tomorrow for another stretch of away games.
I have laundry to finish and a bag to pack.
She calls my name, but I close the door behind me, leaning against it and closing my eyes as well. Here I thought we were making progress.
Turns out, we were just treading water the whole time.