Page 102 of The Work Wife

They slid down to sit in the tub; she was in his lap with her head tucked under his chin.

“We have to get up,” she said a few minutes later. “We can’t show up for breakfast looking like prunes. Everyone will know.”

“Fuck everyone. I want to stay here like this for the rest of my life.”

“Let’s compromise and give it five more minutes.”

“Fair enough.”

Five minutes later they were having sex on the bathroom counter.

“We have to get ready. We’re going to be late for breakfast,” Jamie said when they’d finished.

“I don’t care if we’re late for breakfast. The whole purpose of this trip was for us to build a stronger relationship. I’d say we’re doing a damn fine job of it.”

“Oh, shit.” Jamie stopped and he froze.

“What is it?”

“We’re married.”

“Yes. I remember. Both times.”

“We’re married and now we’re having sex like real married people.”

“You think it’s boring?” He disagreed wholeheartedly. He’d used some of his best stuff. He surely wasn’t bored.

“No. I mean, this was supposed to be pretend. But now we’re doing everything that real married people do. So it’s like we’re married for real.”

“Okay. You keep saying the word real like there’s some distinction. But I’m not getting it.”

“We’re not really married.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Not in our hearts.”

He took a step back. He understood then what she was saying. They didn’t love each other. Not like real married people.

The divorce rate convinced him that these so-called real married people didn’t love each other any more than he and Jamie did, but he didn’t say that.

Instead he kissed her until she conceded to being later for breakfast.

* * * *

Jamie could feel the blush spread across her face when she and Wes showed up late for breakfast. Not just late, but after everyone else had finished.

Wes kissed her panic away this morning, and then they’d had sex. Again. Actually it wasn’t having sex as much as it was making love.

She’d had sex with other men before and it hadn’t felt like this. What she had with Wes was completely different. It was like they did everything else: compatibly and comfortably. She didn’t once worry that she wasn’t perfect, because Wes made her feel as if she were.

She kept having to remind herself that this wasn’t a real marriage, despite the fact they had now consummated it, making it very, very real.

When the humiliating breakfast was over, the group was dismissed for free time. There was dancing this evening and they would be leaving in the morning.

After breakfast they changed for the beach, not needing to discuss what they wanted to do for the day. After all the sex, they needed time to recoup.

She took off her cover-up and walked into the water alone. Wes sat on the lounge chair, watching her swim, but made no move to join her. That was for the best. She needed some time to think about what had happened, and more importantly what would happen next.