Don't Kiss the Bride: An Age Gap, Marriage of Convenience Romance

by Carian Cole

“I can’t pass up the chance to see what kind of crazy Christmas sweater you’re gonna wear.”

  “Oh, you mean like the one with Rudolph where the nose lights up?”

  I let out a laugh. “Nothing would be better.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  No lie, this will be the first holiday I’ve ever spent with a woman.

  Another first.

  I used to enjoy being alone until Skylar came along. Now every minute that’s spent without her feels lonely, like something is missing. But, my old friend distrust still comes to visit once in a while.

  I was eighteen once. And when I was, I dated eighteen-year-old girls. They want to have fun. They want to date around. They change their minds every other day. And when they hit twenty-one, they want to party, go to bars and clubs, flirt with men. And hell yeah, I’m worried about giving my heart to someone who hasn’t had a chance to really figure out who or what she wants yet. What am I supposed to do if Skylar wakes up one day and decides she doesn’t want to be with an older, average-looking construction worker who doesn’t want kids?

  Life just had to fuck with me by throwing the perfect girl in my life and then twisting the knife by making her only eighteen years old.

  Thanks for the ass fucking, karma.

  “I better get back to work,” I say. “I’ll see ya at home.”

  “Thanks for the soup. I’m glad you surprised me.”

  Checking around the store to make sure no one’s lingering nearby, I lean closer to her and brush my lips across hers. When I pull back, she grabs the collar of my shirt and tugs me back for another one. Groaning, I cup the back of her head and kiss her deeper.

  “Skylar, I—” Rebecca stops short at the doorway at the other end of the room and eyes us suspiciously.

  Skylar quickly pulls away from me and coughs. “Thanks for bringing me lunch,” she says loudly.

  “See ya later.” I nod a bye at Rebecca, pick up a bag of cookies, and make a quick exit.

  “Jude! Wait!”

  I turn to face Rebecca, who’s followed me out to the sidewalk.

  “What’s up?” I ask, biting into a cookie.

  “Don’t what’s up me. What did I just see in there?”

  I shrug. “I dunno, Rebecca. Your eyes aren’t in my head.”

  Her lips press together into a thin line. “Don’t be a dick. What the hell are you doing?”

  “Going back to work. Maybe you should do the same.”

  She crosses her arms. “I warned her not to get too close to you. I don’t trust you, Jude.”

  “You don’t even know me, Rebecca. We’re not in high school anymore.”

  “But she is. She’s eighteen.”

  “I’m aware.” Way too aware.

  “And you think that’s okay? It’s ludicrous enough for a man your age to conjure up this ridiculous marriage idea with a teenager, but now you’re getting physical with her? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with me. What’s wrong with you? Mind your own business.”

  “No, I won’t. I care about her. She’s way too young to be involved with you. She’s very vulnerable.”

  “I care about her, too. We’re friends. I just brought her soup because she needs to eat something besides bread.”

  I fucking hate lying to people. All it does is create a trail of messes that eventually, I’ll have to clean up.

  “I saw you kiss her. That’s not something you do with friends. You need to take a big step back, Jude. She’s just a kid. She’s had a crappy life. Ever since she met you, it’s been one crisis after the next. Your sister attacked her with a hammer for God’s sake! She could’ve died! She’s being bullied constantly at school. She got suspended—and she’s a straight A student! You even took her car.”

  My gut is twisting into a knot with all the truths she’s throwing at me. All these things have been gnawing at me, and I’ve been trying to shove them out of my mind, because the temptation to quiet all the demons with drugs and alcohol is always just one bad decision away.

  I don’t want to go there.

  And I don’t want to face the fact that I might be bad for Skylar.

  I grind my jaw. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Do the right thing.” She jabs her finger into my chest. “If you’re better than you were when we were kids, you wouldn’t be crossing these lines. She’s going to get hurt, and we both know it. She’s a sweet girl with a hell of a lot of talent. Keep your distance, let this ‘deal’ run its course, but get back in the lane you belong in.”

  “Then do the fucking same. You’re not her mother. She’s an adult, and she’s not stupid. She’s capable of making decisions.”

  “Someone has to look out for her. She has no one to give her sound advice. No one.”

  I can feel Skylar’s eyes on us as we argue on the sidewalk.

  “I’d protect her with my fucking life.”

  “Well, you’re not doing such a great job at that, are you?” she accuses.

  “Fuck you. What happened to her was an accident. I had no idea my sister was even alive.”

  “You have sleazy connections, Jude. You always have. They follow you like rats.”

  “Not anymore.”

  She raises her brows questioningly. “I know all about falling in love with the wrong guy. Getting caught up in someone sexy and intriguing and totally losing yourself and any sense of right or wrong.”

  I stare her down. “Don’t make this about you because you married an asshole.”

  “It’s not about me. But I know a toxic relationship when I see one. She’s a teenager. Let her be one. She should be out dating boys, going to movies, doing teenage-girl stuff, not shacking up in a house with an adult man living some farce of a marriage. It’s disgusting and belittling to the real marriage she will have someday. I see the way she looks at you, Jude. You’ve got this magnetic thing about you and she’s all caught up in it. She’s going to get her heart broken and she’ll never get over you. Do you want to be the one who helped her, or the one who destroyed her for all future relationships? Is that really what you want for her?”

  If anything has ever made me feel like a low-life piece of scum, it’s this verbal lashing right here.

  “No,” I reply. “I don’t want that.”

  “I have a niece a few months younger than Skylar. I can’t even imagine a guy your age trying to fuck her. I’d be in jail for his murder. If you don’t get your act together, I might contact the school and talk to her guidance counselor.”

  “Hey,” I say, stepping closer to her. “I’m not fucking her. I care about her.”

  “What if you had a daughter her age? Or a sister? How would you feel if she was in this arrangement?”

  I think about my sister at sixteen, running off to Florida with Jimmy Vantz—a man old enough to be her father—and getting her life all sorts of fucked up.

  “It would make me sick,” I admit.

  “Then keep your hands and your mouth off her. She’s never even been in love. You’re not playing on equal ground, and you’re taking advantage of her innocence and her need to feel loved. It’s sick. Do the right thing.” She turns and stalks back toward the boutique. “And stop eating my cookies,” she throws over her shoulder before opening the door.

  I don’t look through the window to see if Skylar’s watching me. I can’t bear the thought of looking into her eyes right now.

  I’m afraid she’s going to see the man Rebecca sees.

  Chapter 39

  Skylar

  I spritz on perfume—something in a pretty glass bottle called Design that has a light, sweet scent that Jude loves, then slip into a light-pink, off-the-shoulder sweater that reaches the top of my thighs. Bending over, I pull on a pair of gray thigh-high socks and slouch them a bit. Under the sweater, I have on a pair of champagne-colored lace bikini panties, and no bra. One good thing about having small, perky boobs is not having to wear a bra all t
he time.

  Especially when I want to look sexy.

  My hope is that this little outfit will cheer Jude up. For the past few days, he’s been distant and quiet. Out of nowhere, he’s almost done a complete U-turn. One day things were amazing—lots of kissing, cuddling, and date nights, then suddenly he’s either working late, or out in the garage, or going to bed early claiming his back hurts.

  He’s declined my numerous offers to give him a back massage.

  Earlier, instead of greeting him at the front door like I usually do when he comes home, I waited in my room with the door closed to see if he’d come looking for me.

  When he didn’t, my worry started to morph into a panic attack consisting of racing thoughts, heart palpitations, sweaty palms, and that awful feeling like I have a blob in my throat.

  Not wanting to waste the entire night curled up in a ball succumbing to worrying about things that I don’t even know are valid, I took a hot shower. After that I sat in my favorite thick terry-cloth robe and patted Gus. Her little purrs always have a calming effect on me.

  I heard his shower as I was blow-drying my hair, and thought he’d be knocking on my door any minute to ask me to make dinner with him, which has become a new thing for us.

  But that was forty minutes ago.

  Frustrated, I walk down to his room. His door is open a few inches, and I can see him sitting on the floor, leaning back against his bed.

  “Jude?” I say. “Can I come in?”

  It feels weird asking for permission to enter his room, but his stand-offish-ness isn’t exactly welcoming.

  He motions with his hand for me to come in, and his eyes languidly travel from my socked feet up to the bare skin of my thighs.

  “What’s up?” he asks, diverting his attention to his phone.

  My heart plunges down into my stomach at his lack of reaction.

  “I just wanted to say hi.”

  He throws me a quick glance and a grin. “Hi.”

  I clasp my hands nervously in front of me, feeling awkward and not at all sexy as I imagined in my head. Gus snakes around my feet, shedding fur onto my socks, and then jumps on the bed to get cozy.

  Am I being ghosted? Dumped? Friend-zoned?

  “How was your day?” I ask.

  “Long.”

  I wish he’d tell me about annoying or crazy homeowners. Or how one of his guys shot himself in the foot with a nail gun. Or how he heard a song on the radio that reminded him of me.

  “Is something wrong?” I force myself to ask.

  His jaw muscle ticks and he tosses his phone onto his bed. “No, why?”

  I can’t pinpoint when it happened, but he’s put an invisible wall up between us. And he did it so fast, so smooth. He told me all about his love ’em and leave ’em past, but to witness it being so skillfully executed is shocking.

  If it wasn’t happening to me, I’d be impressed.

  But I’m not impressed. I’m dying inside with every passing second, wondering what the hell happened to our plan of trying to find out if we’re perfect for each other.

  Or did he come to the conclusion that we’re not, and he doesn’t want to tell me?

  “I thought things were perfect.”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “Huh?”

  I screw my eyes shut, trying to reverse the tears ready to spill. I didn’t mean to actually say those words—they just came out.

  “Nothing, I—” I run my tongue along the edge of my teeth. “Are you okay?”

  “Just tired.”

  He certainly looks tired with shadows under his eyes, and slouched shoulders.

  Kneeling down next to him, I reach out and comb his hair out of his face.

  “I think you’re doing too much since you got rid of Kyle. Have you had any luck hiring someone to replace him?”

  “A new guy started on Monday. Bob. He’s doing good.”

  I nod, wondering why he stopped talking to me about stuff that goes on at his job.

  “Are you thinking about Erin?” I ask softly. “We can talk about it…”

  “I’m just tired, Skylar,” he says, not looking at me. “Stop digging.”

  Hurt, I lean back on my heels. My heart is racing with anxiety and anguish. He’s never spoken to me so quick and cold.

  “Okay.”

  I move to stand but he grabs my hand. “Wait…” he says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Jude, what’s going on?” I ask. “And don’t tell me you’re tired or it’s your back.”

  He let’s go of my hand, and I guess that’s the answer right there in that simple, yet glaring, action.

  “I’m not lying about that stuff, but I think we need a little break.”

  My stomach pitches.

  “A break?” My voice cracks in the middle of the word, and it comes out sounding like brrr-ache.

  “Don’t cry. Please,” he says, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

  I didn’t realize tears were spilling down my cheeks until he brushes them off my face with his hand. And it’s shattering, that the same touch—his palm over my cheek—has ignited love in me so many times, now feels like such a betrayal to my heart.

  “I think we need to take a step back,” he says hoarsely. “Think about things.”

  “What things?” I croak. “Why?”

  When he doesn’t answer I ask, “Is there someone else?”

  “No,” he says immediately. “Fuck no.”

  I’ve never been dumped before. Even when my father left, he just disappeared. I’ve never experienced this agony of looking in the eye of the person I love and seeing good-bye there.

  Suddenly all the sad love songs make so much sense.

  “I don’t understand,” I whisper, sucking in a sniffly breath. “What did I do wrong?”

  “Baby, you didn’t do anything wrong. Not one thing.”

  “Then what the fuck?” Anger has surfaced like a best friend coming to defend me.

  “I think the age thing might be a little too much. I think we need to kinda slow things down, maybe wait—”

  “My age didn’t matter when your dick was shoved up me.”

  His chest rises and falls in deep, controlled breaths. “Skylar, don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Say shitty things because you’re upset. This was never about sex and you know it.”

  “Then what is it about? Because I don’t understand.”

  “It’s exactly what I said. I never should’ve let things go as far as they did. I’m sorry for that, I really am.”

  “You’re sorry,” I repeat. “That’s just great.”

  His gray eyes lock on mine, and I can see the sorrow and the remorse there, mingling with the pain of whatever’s going on inside him.

  This is hurting him just as much as it’s hurting me. I just don’t understand why he’s doing it.

  “Skylar, I don’t want to hurt you,” he says in a low, tortured voice.

  I cover his hand with mine and link our fingers, and his immediately squeeze mine. “Then why are you? We don’t have to do this,” I say tearfully. “We can just go back to how things were. Because it was perfect.” I take a gulp of air. “Wasn’t it?”

  He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It was. More than you know. But it’s still not right. Not right now.”

  “I don’t care about our ages. It doesn’t matter.”

  “I care. And so do other people.”

  Other people?

  “Who—”

  He cups my head in his hands and presses his lips to my forehead. “Please, Skylar. Go and do fun things. Graduate high school. I’ll still be here.”

  “I don’t want to do that. I want to be with you now.”

  Slowly pulling away, he leans back against the bed again with a look of utter defeat and exhaustion. “We can’t do this. Not now. And I don’t want you to worry, nothing else changes. I don’t want you to leave. I promised to help you and that’s not changing
. I still want us to be friends, more than anything.”

  I try to put my arms around him but he grabs my wrists and gently steers me away. “Skylar don’t make this harder. Please. Just trust that I’m doing what’s right for you.”

  I stand up and tug my sweater down.

  “Is that the line you give women?” I spit out. “If it is, you should find a new one. Because it really sucks.”

  Not able to look at him, or hear any more of his shitty excuses, I pick up my cat and storm back out of his room.

  As soon as I get behind my closed door, I wrangle myself out of the sweater dress, pull off the socks, and then crawl in bed and pull the covers over my head.

  Surprisingly, tears don’t come.

  I’m completely numb and disconnected, as if I’ve drifted far away, up to the ceiling, and am looking down at myself. And I can see myself, lying in bed, as I have so many times.

  Confused.

  Broken.

  Alone.

  Tossed aside.

  Chapter 40

  Skylar

  “Why did I let you talk me into this?” I say to Megan. The mall is hot as an oven and I feel like we’ve been in each store three times already while she tries to find the perfect something.

  “Because we need to buy gifts. And clothes. I thought you said you still needed a fun holiday sweater?”

  “I do, but haven’t you ever heard of online shopping? It’s so much easier than this.” I hike three shopping bags up my arm. So far, I bought two gifts for her while she wasn’t looking, a gift for Rebecca, a pair of boots for myself, and toys for Gus and Cassie. A few weeks ago, I had a gift custom-made for Jude, which I’m now second-guessing.

  “Maybe your skinny ass has an easy time buying clothes online, but I need to try shit on to see if I can squeeze my tits into it.”

  I smile at her as two screaming toddlers run out from beneath a rack of blouses, each holding huge lollipops, and almost wipe us out.

  “Where are the parents in this place?” I sigh. “They just let their kids run around like wild animals. Did you see the size of those lollipops? They could choke to death—”

  “Let’s go to the food court and get something cold to drink,” she suggests.