Page 3 of Wedding Contract
Very truly yours,
Wick
Chapter Three
ANNABELLE
It shouldn’t be this hard to respond to an email, but it always is when it comes to Wick, my husband. I’m still getting used to referring to him as that and having a husband at all. The ring is heavy on my finger as I sit on my marital bed. This is not how I pictured marriage when I thought about it as a little girl, but I know better than to believe in fairy tales. It’s a waste of time. They don’t happen for people like me.
Thinking a change of scenery might help, I pack my laptop into my bag before grabbing my other belongings. My gaze lingers on the items I've moved from my old place to this one. They appear so out of place. I also don't want to unpack them. They don't fit. Hell, I don't fit. Before I do any of that, I need to get this email response done. I'm not sure I can get into trouble with my new husband, but I'm not going to push it.
I'm worried that he'll throw me out, leaving me with nowhere to go. My old roommates already found someone to take over my room. I should have kept it as a safety net and paid the rent. It wouldn't be the first time I was left out in the cold. I always figure it out one way or another.
This was supposed to be a saving grace, but now that I'm here, I'm not so sure that's the case. I change into a thickersweater that will keep me warm. The coat I had been using was an extra one my roommate had, so I left it behind. I'll need to see about buying another one. I'm not sure there will be many thrift stores around here that I can pop into.
I double-check to make sure I have the strange key and my phone before stepping onto the elevator. There are two you can use. There's a private elevator in the back, but I believe it goes straight down to the parking garage. It might also serve as a service elevator, allowing staff to enter and exit discreetly.
When the elevator stops a few floors down and a beautiful woman and man step onto it, I regret not having taken that other one when the girl's eyes flick up and down me. Her nose gives a small scrunch. I know without a doubt that she’s judging me. She can tell I don’t belong here. I’m sure wondering what the hell I’m doing here taking up her space with my presence.
Both are dressed impeccably. The woman's long blond hair is styled with a jeweled clip in it, and her makeup is flawless. I fight the urge not to run my fingers through my hair. I hadn't bothered to give myself a glance over before I left.
When the man’s eyes do the same up-and-down motion, he gives a smirk. He too has his hair styled in waves; his fancy watch sparkles under the light. The two not only fit together and could do a photo shoot for a magazine, but they fit this building too. This is a mistake. I don't think I can be what Wick needs. It doesn't help when the woman opens her mouth to speak.
“There are service elevators. They are at the end of each floor.”
I knew she would automatically assume I was the help. It's typical. Even though she’s being rude, I can’t say that I blame her. If I don’t feel as though I fit, why would she?
“My apartment takes up the whole floor.” A confused expression takes over her face, testing her Botox.
“These are condos, and the penthouse would also have a service elevator, which you'd know if you actually lived there.”
My throat starts to tighten, but I manage to croak out a single-word response. “Okay.” Anytime there is tension or awkwardness, I tend to freeze. I hate it, but no matter how hard I try, it always wins out.
“Don't let it happen again, or I'll report you.” Thankfully the doors slide open, and the man puts his hand on the woman's back and guides her out. Flicking a glance back at me, he winks. I turn my head to pretend to miss it before stepping out. I let space grow between us before I make my way toward the doors to leave the building.
“Thank you,” I tell the doorman when he opens it for me.
I pull out my phone and look to see what coffee shops are around. I find one a few blocks over and make my way toward it. The sidewalks are busy, since everyone is in a hurry to get home. I was in a hurry to get out of mine but not sure I could call it a home. It’s cold and lonely.
I don’t mean how it’s decorated. In that sense, it’s breathtakingly perfect. It would make a lovely home for a family. With all that space and being up so high all alone, it was actually a tad unsettling. I wonder how I'll sleep? I need to remember to change the code as Wick suggested.
When my phone vibrates in my hand, I stare at it. It's a Nebraska number. That's where my family lives. Most of them, at least, and it's been years since I have heard from them. I don't clear the call but let it go until the voicemail picks it up.
It can't be good if someone back home is calling me. Must be an emergency of some kind. I didn't fit in there either. How do I always find myself in situations like that? Always out of place.
A small seed of hope blooms that maybe one of my sisters or Mom wanted to simply talk. Maybe they were calling to let me know that it's been too long and that they miss me. That theyhadn't meant a lot of the hurtful things they’ve said over the years. Once I stopped reaching out, that connection ceased to exist. That had made it very clear where I stood with them.
I almost laugh at myself when I see they did leave a voicemail, but it's a telemarketer calling about a political donation. Wow, if I thought I had moved past my hurt with my family, that was a jarring reminder that I haven’t.
I should have known better. In the end, I'm always the outsider looking in on a life that will never really be mine.
Chapter Four
WICK
Dear Wick,
Thank you for the very nice apartment. It’s really beautiful but it feels (and looks! And smells!) very expensive. I wonder if I should be in some place smaller so it wouldn’t cost you so much. When you said that I could have the apartment after the deal was over, I didn’t think it would be this kind of home. I’m not doing enough to deserve this. Thanks for the cooking supplies. I’ve made these scones for you. It’s nothing big but hope you like them.
