Page 71 of The Reason I Married Him
Jesus Christ, it’s happening.
Tread carefully, man.
“I get where you’re coming from. Privacy can be a big factor in decisions like this, but unfortunately, given that we’ll have to put on a façade, I’ll have to shack up with you to keep this falsity alive.”
She grumbles and folds her arms. “Then . . . I don’t want you touching me.”
I cringe. “Afraid that’s unavoidable. You’re my wife, after all. I would have to show affection for it to be believable.”
She hems and haws over that for a second and then says, “Fine, but I don’t want you touching me when we’re alone.”
“Oh.” I nod. “I see where your mind is racing off to. Don’t worry, it will be purely platonic between us. Consider us friends without benefits.”
“Friends?” She lifts a brow.
“Yeah. Do you really think we can pull this off with the rapport we have now? Our current conversations resemble complete meltdown. If we’re going to make this believable, we’ll have to ease up on each other. Which means”—I lean forward and press my finger on the wrinkle between her eyes, flattening it out—“you’ll have to stop hating me.”
“Then don’t make it so easy,” she replies, but then follows it up with a smirk. And that, right there, ladies and gentlemen, that little smirk, yup, that means I won her over.
I smile back. “I’ll give it my best shot. So . . . what do you say?” I lend out my hand to her. “Your hand for my land?”
She stares down at my hand and then back up at me.
Her lips grow tight.
She groans in frustration.
And then . . . magically, her hand meets mine.
Success!
Holy shit, I did it.
“Really?” I ask her, shocked.
She pulls her hand away and buries her head in her palms. “God, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but . . . yes.” She looks up at me and points her finger. “But only because I can’t stand the fact that Amanda and Matt pitied me. And because I really want the land, and from the looks of it, it doesn’t seem like you’re giving it up, which is a real dick move.”
“It’s not a dick move,” I counter. “It’s smart. Tit for tat.”
“Yeah, but this is giving up a year of my life.”
“Like I said . . .wife. . . it’s going to be your best year.”
“Doubtful.”
“Knock, knock, it’s your hubby,”I say from outside her guest house.
After we finished eating, Aubree went into silent mode. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s as if she turned off her brain and just went to work. She didn’t talk, didn’t recognize me as the person working next to her, she just . . . worked. I chalked it up to her being inside her head and trying to come to terms with what she’d just agreed to.
I was fine with it, but once we finished with the chicken coop and cleaned up, she started to walk away without a word. That’s when I grabbed her by the arm and asked her if she was in shock. She nodded, and I understood, so I told her that I’d be back later to go over things, but I gave her time to work through whatever was going on in her head.
And in all honesty, if she came up to me and said she couldn’t go through with it, that it was too much for her to handle and she couldn’t help me out, I’d leave it at that. I’d find another wayto save the cabin, even if it meant buying out my cousin, which would be a tough pill to swallow. Especially since I think he’d either upcharge me or just keep that cabin out of spite, knowing I had all the means to make it mine but couldn’t.
I don’t trust Wallace as far as I can throw him. It’s why I’ve been so adamant about this. Why I’ve wanted to marry Aubree. She wins. I win. And then we can move on with our lives.
Conventional, no.
But sometimes we have to think outside the box to get what we want.
