“I’ll see you Monday?”
“Monday.” She nodded.
“Should I pick you up so it looks like we live together?”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” She frowned and looked up at the gray blah of the sky. Then she shook her head. “You usually go in before me. That would be a good reason for not driving together.”
“That’s right, screw gas prices and efficiency. We shall not wake the princess forty minutes earlier so she doesn’t have to battle traffic. That would be lunacy.”
“I think I’m over the princess thing. I’ll pick you up on Monday since you’re on my way.”
“You promise not to leave a huge space between you and the car in front of you so everyone in Boston can cut in front of us?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“It’s called a safety buffer. If we were supposed to ride so close to the person in front of us, there would be hooks linking us together and it would be called a train.”
“Safety buffers are for Southerners.”
And with that, the sneaky sky let loose its secret plan for the day. Sleet.
“Fuck you, Boston,” she muttered, and got in her car.
* * * *
Wes unlocked the door to his apartment and went in, braced for the silence that greeted him every night. It had been a lot of fun spending the week with Jamie and her dad. There hadn’t been much silence. He’d been part of a real family.
Granted, part of that family was reluctant and rather off-putting, but it was still more sincere than his own family. And Mr. Witmer had warmed up in the end. He’d even called him son instead of The Husband.
He smiled at the memory as he carried his bag to the laundry room and started the washer. Like normal, he threw everything into one load, not having enough for two. He knew Jamie would probably be doing the same thing at the Laundromat.
He couldn’t help but wonder if they would have enough to do lights and darks if they put their laundry together like real married people.
With a sigh he went out to check his kitchen for food. The milk had lost the battle. Wes took a deep breath and held it before dumping it down the drain.
He flopped down on the sofa and turned on the television. If he desperately wanted some company he could log on to a game. But he wasn’t up for it. Those people wouldn’t care that he was newly married. They didn’t know him well enough to know he hadn’t been married before. Except maybe by the fact that he spent hours every night gaming instead of doing whatever husbands normally did.
He went for groceries and finished his laundry. Then he sat on his sofa and looked around his empty living room.
“This sucks,” he said to no one.
He sent Jamie a message a few minutes later. What are you up to?
Laundry.
He’d gotten it right. Do you want to get breakfast tomorrow? He couldn’t imagine spending an entire day in his apartment alone.
Sounds good. Kline’s?
Nine?
Ten. She answered back.
He laughed at his phone and nodded, though she couldn’t see him.
See you at ten. Good night, wife.
Night-night, husband.
He tossed his phone on the sofa and picked up a book.
* * * *
After tossing and turning all night, Jamie was running late for breakfast the next morning. She might have sent a text apologizing for not being there yet, but stopping to text would make her that much later.
She hadn’t slept well because her bed had been too . . . empty. It had also been too cold and too lonely. Apparently it had only taken her a week to convert to a person who sleeps next to another person.
Sliding into the bench across from him, she winced. “Sorry. I overslept.”
“You’re getting French toast,” he announced.
“With strawberries?”
“Of course.”
“And—”
“Whipped cream and sprinkles. I was going to ask if they could just throw a cup or two of sugar on top to make sure it was sweet enough.”
“I’ll make do with syrup. Thanks though.”
She took a sip of her coffee, which was waiting for her, thanks to her husband.
“I thought you would have been sick of me by now,” she said.
“Yeah, me too. But I guess I’ve become immune.” He laughed as his veggie omelet was set down in front of him. She felt the guilt as her mound of sweetness was lowered to the table. But fortunately the guilt was gone by the first forkful of whipped cream and sprinkles.
She was full halfway through the second piece of toast. There were two left.
Weston had finished his omelet and set his empty plate aside, ready for the pass off.
“Thanks for leaving me some strawberries,” he said as she pushed the plate across the table with a groan.
When the waitress dropped off the check, Jamie reached for it at the same time as Weston.
“Nooo way.” She shook her head. “You spent the week being treated badly by my father. I am buying your stupid veggie omelet, and probably every breakfast going forward until we either stop paying for things with money or we end up at a retirement home and can only have that gelatin with the pineapple tidbits for breakfast.”
“Fine. What are you doing now?”
Jamie gave a noncommittal shrug. She didn’t want to have to tell him she had no plans whatsoever for the last day of her vacation. Surely she had a book she hadn’t read yet. Maybe she would go to a bookstore.
“Do you want to go see a movie?”
“I’m in.” She was happy to have something to do with another human. “But only if there’s action.”
“Yes. I know you don’t like movies unless something blows up.”
They hit the matinee and then went for an early dinner. Jamie wondered if this was the way normal couples spent their Sundays. It was a selling point for sure.
After dinner, she scrambled to think of something else they could do together, rather than go home to her lonely apartment. Unfortunately there was nothing she could think of that wouldn’t sound desperate.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at work,” he said.
“Is it ridiculous that I’m actually looking forward to going to work? I mean I had a great time getting married—twice—and seeing my dad was awesome. But I love my job.”
“I understand. I feel the same way. Maybe to normal people it would sound ridiculous, but not to me,” he said. Like most other things they were alike in that way too.
She’d always known they were compatible. It was what made their friendship so strong. It was almost scary.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
There was a brief hesitation before they parted. It almost seemed like he was about to say something, but he didn’t. She felt a slight surge of disappointment that he didn’t suggest something else for them to do. She didn’t want to go home yet.
Shaking the thought away, she turned to go. It wasn’t his job to entertain her every second.
At home, she sighed and flopped down on her sofa.
“This sucks.”
* * * *
First thing Monday morning, Wes and Jamie were interrupted from their work by Karen from human resources.
“Hello, happy couple. How was the honeymoon?” she asked.
“We have pictures,” Jamie offered automatically. He hid his wince at her terrible performance. She was so bad at lying. He would have to tutor her or something if they were ever going to pull this off.
“I’ll have to take a look later. I just stopped in to drop off new beneficiary forms. Now that you’re married you’ll want to update them. I know no one likes to think about death, but it happens to all of us. You can give them back to me or use the envelope to mail them directly to the administra
tor.”
She handed them each a paper and with a wave left the office.
“She’s like the grim reaper in a pair of Louboutins,” Jamie noted.
“She’s right though. Everyone dies, and not normally when they plan to.” His father had dropped dead during his daily run. Wes had never gotten the chance to confront him. Things would always be unresolved between them.
“It’s for our 401Ks.” She held up the papers. “You’re getting the short end of that stick, I’m afraid.”
“Good thing I didn’t marry you for your money.”
She laughed at the joke, but he was happy money hadn’t come into their relationship. Jamie made enough to pay her bills and visit her father. She had a modest car, though most of the time she took the T. She didn’t need much to make her happy.
He smiled, remembering how she’d bought his breakfast the day before.
More people stopped in their office as the day wore on. He watched as Jamie happily showed them the photos from their trip.
“And he staged a second wedding so my dad could be there. Isn’t he the most romantic man ever?” she said, smiling at him.
“Oh, that’s so sweet.” Cindy cooed and patted him, her ultra-flowery perfume making him cough.
They’d pulled it off. Everyone believed their story. Which is why it shouldn’t have been a surprise the next day, when Rob stopped in their office with a big smile on his face.
“Welcome back. Are you two able to come to the retreat in Jamaica? I know you just got married and might not think it’s necessary, but it’s a great way to bond with your partner, and get some sun in the winter.”
“We just got back from our honeymoon,” Jamie pointed out, looking the part of the dedicated worker who wasn’t consumed with the trip to Jamaica. It might have been more convincing if she hadn’t already snatched the packet from the man’s hands.
“Work will be here when you get back. This is important.” He pointed at both of them. “You’ll be together for the rest of your lives. I don’t have to tell the two of you how important it is to have a strong foundation.” No. Both of them knew a structure was only as good as what was holding it up.
“Sure. We’re in,” Wes said.
* * * *
Their plan had worked, but Jamie realized over the next week that the trip was just one of the many perks of being married to Weston. She knew it wasn’t real, but she liked the way he held her hand when they walked through the office. And the way he rested his hand on the small of her back when they left the staff meeting. The casual little things that made it look real.
They were in the middle of an argument over whether corner brownies were better than middle brownies when her phone made her jump.
“Hello, Daddy,” she greeted him after checking the display.
“I was just checking in to see how things are going. You okay? I’ve heard of these guys who kill their new wives for the insurance money.”
“Very nice.” She frowned, but heard her father’s chuckle on the other end of the line.
“Hello, Mr. Witmer!” Weston called from across the room.
“Your non-murdering son-in-law says hello.”
“Sure, tell him I said hello back.” She smiled at the awkwardness. “The real reason I called was I have a question, and I guess you’ll want to run it by him.”
“Go on.”
“Would it be okay if I came to Boston to visit for a few days next week?”
“Why?” The worry she’d pushed away regarding those pill bottles came back with a vengeance.
“Would you relax? I’m fine. I just want to come see where you live. Make sure it’s not a dump.” She froze like she had when she was a teenager and had gotten caught doing something she shouldn’t have.
“My dad would like to come visit next week. Do you have any plans?” she asked Weston, whose face went from confusion to panic.
“No. That would be fine.” He made it sound like a question.
“He almost sounds convincing. If his voice hadn’t shaken on the last word, he would have had me,” her father said.
“Let me know when you’ll need to be picked up at the airport.”
“Sounds good. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
She disconnected the call and looked up. “My father is coming to stay with us for a few days.”
“It will be okay. We don’t have to worry about anything. I mean, he’s not going to question us like INS or something. Neither of us will get kicked out of the country.”
“We don’t live together, Wes. My father will question that.” He was missing the giant problem with her father’s visit.
“You’ll stay with me. He can stay in my guest room. Bring some of your stuff to make it look good.”
“He’s a detective.”
“You got away with sneaking out of the house for years; surely we can pull off a few days. We’ve already had practice.”
“I obviously didn’t get away with sneaking out of the house. He just didn’t have the evidence he needed to convict.”
“Then stay with me this week. Bring your stuff. We’ll make it look authentic. You’ll know what cabinet we keep the cereal in.” His lips pulled up on the side.
“You’re serious?”
“Why not? We’re committed to seeing this through, right? We should have known this could happen.”
She should have put more thought into this plan. “Okay. I’ll pack and come over tonight. I could make lasagna.”
“You don’t need to do that.” He was looking at his laptop instead of her.
“You don’t like my lasagna.”
“Not my favorite.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“The top layer isn’t supposed to be crunchy.”
“It’s al dente.”
“It’s al crunché.” He used a little accent that made her laugh.
“Fine. I’ll pick something up on my way.”
“Fair enough.”
* * * *
This was a very bad idea, yet he found he couldn’t wait for Jamie to get to his place. When she knocked, he pulled the door open immediately.
“Welcome home,” he greeted her.
“Your elevator is so fast there should be a hyperbaric chamber up here.” He laughed and took the bag of food as she rolled her broken suitcase into his apartment. “Look at that view. I didn’t know you can see the water from here. The last time I was here it was dark.”
“Here’s your key.”
“Really?”
“Well, it wouldn’t look very legit if you had to knock to get into your own home.”
“I guess not.” She stared down at the key and looked up at him with some emotion he didn’t understand. It was just a key. “I’m going to go unpack.”
“I cleared out some of my closet so you can hang your clothes in there.”
“What about the dresser?”
“You can have the drawers on the right.”
She paused before going into his room. “Thank you for this, Wes. I’m sorry if this is getting out of hand.”
“It’s fine. We’ve come this far, we can’t back out now.” Not that he wanted to. He was happy with his marriage. It was nice to have someone to share his home with. He’d been so adamant about them not living together, and now he realized why. Because it wouldn’t last and he’d end up alone again.
Jamie came out of his bedroom wearing a pair of slippers, leggings, and his favorite sweatshirt from college.
“Very wifely,” he commented as he took their food out of the bag.
“Where are the glasses?” She pointed to his cupboards.
“The door closest to the refrigerator. The one next to that is bowls and plates. Then the last two are food.”
She hand
ed him two plates and then filled their glasses with water.
“Silverware.” He opened the drawer and got the forks.
They sat at the table looking out over the harbor and chatted about their day. It was strange that they still had things to talk about.
“This place must cost a lot. Are you still doing that freelance gig?”
“Sometimes.” He swallowed, hoping he wasn’t going to have to go into that.
“I’m gonna have to get me one of those. This is sweet.” She leaned back to look up at his high ceilings and skylights. When they were done eating, they took care of the dishes and went to watch television.
His leather sectional separated the dining and kitchen area from the living room, though it was all one big open space. They spent the rest of the evening watching mindless TV like he imagined most married couples were doing.
He looked down when he felt her leaning heavily against him to see she’d fallen asleep. For a moment he considered carrying her to bed, but since their second wedding and the kiss, he’d been touching her a lot more than necessary for this ruse. He needed to be smarter about this.
Shaking her awake, instead, he stood and moved a safe distance away.
“Do you have everything you need?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’m good. Thanks again.”
“No problem.” He watched as she shuffled down the hall to her room and hoped this wouldn’t become a problem.
Chapter 11
Jamie dropped her toothbrush in the holder next to Weston’s and left the bathroom, ready to go to the office. Wes was walking out of his bedroom at the same time.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Yeah. I just need to grab my bag.” She stopped. “Oh, should we pack lunch?”
“Let’s go out today. We’ll pack lunch tomorrow.” That was fine with her. They could use a little time alone, away from the office so they didn’t have to play the happy newlyweds the entire day. It was becoming difficult to turn it off when they were alone. Twice she’d caught herself touching him when no one else was around to see it.
Wes seemed to be having the same struggles, but neither of them said anything.
By the time they were sitting at the airport the next week, waiting for her father to arrive, she was looking forward to the distraction.
The Work Wife Page 12
