Page 27 of Better Off Wed
Gideon worked long hours, and I had the sneaking suspicion he was trying to avoid me. He slept on the couch and was usually gone by the time I got up. And that wasfine. Totally fine. We weren’t actually a married couple, we were just making life easier for each other by staying married. So he owed me nothing.
Or so I kept telling myself.
I spent the next couple of days puttering around town, checking out the few shops that were still open, and visiting the bakery as often as possible. Caroline was sarcastic and friendly, and she made amazing matcha lattes. Main Street was a nod to a bygone era, with added graffiti, boarded-up shops, and big trees. The people were friendly, with a few oddballs who treated me like I was trying to ruin their town. The one time I went into Ivan Popov’s antique shop, he looked at me with such disdain and suspicion that I left without buying anything, even though Ispotted an amazing vintage dress form half-hidden behind a hideous lamp.
Gideon would come home late, and our conversations were stilted.
He didn’t touch me. Not even accidentally. Not a hand between my shoulder blades or a touch of the elbow. I realized just how much physical contact we’d had in the first day of our acquaintance, and its disappearance made me feel hollow.
Those were my own issues to deal with; I was a lonely person who hadn’t quite resigned herself to living a partnerless life. But this marriage was the best I could expect.
The family group chat was active, and I grimaced as they booked the Airbnb with the pull-out couch. We always celebrated the holidays a week early, since there were typically holiday-themed weddings booked between Christmas and New Year’s, and we all had to be available for them. I didn’t tell them I was married, and I wasn’t sure when or if I would.
In essence, it was a week of stasis. I made the best of it, exploring my new home, going on long walks, and treating myself to daily coffees from Knead More Bread. I explored some of the restaurants in town: a Chinese place called Golden Chopsticks, an old diner out on the freeway. Everyone told me the one restaurant I absolutely had to try was a surprisingly fancy place called The Pier.
On Thursday evening, I dressed up and went to check it out. I sat at a balcony table and looked over the glittering ocean, sipping a crisp white wine. The day had been warm, and I was glad for the sea breeze. There were a number of people eating, more than I expected. A few older couples, one young couple, and one family. Over in the corner by a big fern was anothersingle diner, a man in a blue baseball cap. I tried to glance over and nod at him in solidarity, us being two loners and all, but he kept his head turned toward the sea and away from me.
“How was your meal?”
I turned my head to see Mrs. Gretzinger standing next to my table. She wore a black pantsuit, her red hair gathered at the nape of her neck. Her ears were adorned with diamond earrings that winked in the fading light. Her substantial cleavage was difficult to ignore. She gestured to a waiter, who hurried over to refill my glass, and I gathered that she was the boss.
“The halibut was fantastic.”
“Fresh-caught,” she said with a nod. “Our head chef was thrilled with it.” Her eyes were brown and very sharp as she looked me over. “I’m surprised Gideon isn’t here with you. Newlyweds should be spending all their time together. I told Etta she should ship you off on a honeymoon as soon as you said ‘I do,’ but she insisted that you’d need to get to know the town to decide if you wanted to stay.”
Her stare was birdlike, and I knew she was fishing for information. I played with the stem of my wine glass and reached for the polite smile that I used to use with clients at my studio. “Gideon’s working a lot these days. All that Mr. Titty business…”
It was a weak excuse, even to my ears. Gideon should’ve been here. We should’ve been getting to know each other…if we were trying to be a real married couple.
But this was what we’d agreed. Separate lives. A marriage on paper.
Could I really survive this way?
The other woman nodded knowingly. “He really threw himself into work after…”
Now it was my turn to fish for information. “After?” I probed.
Mrs. Gretzinger gave me an assessing look. She enjoyed having more information than me. “After the fire,” she said quietly. “And everything that followed.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but I tried to keep my face neutral as I nodded. “Of course.”
“It was very hard on him.”
“I can only imagine.”
“We’re all so happy that Gideon’s found someone else,” she said. “He’s a good man, and he deserves a good woman by his side.”
There was an edge to her voice; a hint of a threat. Just like Etta whispering in my ear,If you hurt him, I will ruin your life.
But that wasn’t what caught my attention. I got stuck on one particular word that she spoke: She’d said, “someoneelse.”
Which meant Gideon had been with someone before me, and something big had happened between them. Was that why he had no interest in me? Because his heart was broken beyond repair?
Was he with her on our wedding night?
“Well, you’ll have dessert,” Mrs. Gretzinger said brightly, drawing me from my whirlwind of thoughts. “On the house. And I’ll have a talk with Etta. She’ll get Gideon’s head screwed on straight again, and we won’t have you eating dinner all alone every night anymore.”
I burned with embarrassment. Of course everyone had seen me wandering around on my own this past week. But what wasthe alternative? I wasn’t going to live my life as a shut-in. I wanted to at leasttryto be happy, or at least content.
