Page 8 of Wedding Contract
“Should we read, then?” she suggests.
“Do we have to?” I just want to hear her talk.
“It is supposed to be a reading date.” She stops herself. “I mean outing. Not a date. Since I’m married.” Her explanations spill forth, but the slip happened. She doesn’t consider herself taken. “I guess I never asked you, but no girlfriend? No significant other that might be bothered with you sitting here?”
“None. I’ve never been into dating.” I wouldn’t know the first thing about it. “I didn’t go to college and was too poor in high school. Too poor most of my life for women.”
Her eyebrows shoot upward. “You don’t look poor. All your clothes are expensive.”
“I was poor; I’m not now.” And now that I have money, there are women who want the lifestyle I can buy them, but I’m not interested. Chasing deals and closing them was more exciting for me than any woman. Until I saw Annabelle. Now the paperwork piles up while I watch the security cams and meet her for coffee.
I should tell her I’m her husband and we can drop this whole act. We can go home together where I will watch her in person instead of through the security cams. “Anna?—”
“I know—” She cuts herself off. “You first.”
“No. What were you going to say?”
“I know that I said I was lonely before, but it’s because it’s a new situation for me. Being married, I mean. It’s going to take time to get used to, but I’m glad to be married.”
Glad but not happy. We’ll do these reading dates until she finds me indispensable. Then I’ll tell her that we’re already married, and we’ll live happily ever after.
“What do you enjoy doing besides reading and baking?”
“Isn’t that enough? These”—she taps the container—”took me all morning.”
“They’re perfect.”
“You haven’t even had one.”
“Half of eating is with your eyes. Or that’s what I learned watchingChef’s Tableon Netflix.”
Her eyes light up. “I love that show. Did you see the one with the Buddhist?—”
“Monk?” I insert. “One of my favorites. I want to go to the temple and try the food because how can it be that tasty but they don’t use any garlic or onions?”
“I know, right? But everyone says it’s amazing. Did you see he’s going to be on theBlack and White Chefcompetition show?”
“No. We should watch it together.”
“I’d love that!” She claps her hands. The movement causes sunlight to catch her big diamond and cast rainbows on the table. Belle sees them and sits back in her chair, suddenly realizing what she agreed to.
“Your husband wouldn’t like it?” I guess.
“I—” She bites the corner of her lip, trying to figure out what an actual married woman would do.
I throw her a lifeline. “It’s probably best if we watch it separately and then we can meet the next day and discuss the episode.”
She nods. “That sounds good.”
But it doesn’t have the appeal that watching it together has.
“I should go.” She’s on her feet before I can say a word. “I’ve got things to do.”
I feel like that’s a lie, but I just nod and gather up my coat and the container of baked goods. On the sidewalk, I try to think of something to keep her with me longer. “I’ll walk you home. For safety. Your husband would appreciate it.”
“All right.” She doesn’t seem like she wants to get rid of me. That’s a positive sign.
“Will you bake more tonight?”
