HisMarriageBargain

by Sidney Bristol

  For the first time in years Autumn felt out of her element.

  Women glanced at her, seeing only the tattoos and colorful hair. She was used to that. But on her terms. If she was at the store and someone turned their nose up at her she could flip them the bird and tell them to go fuck themselves. Now she was on their turf and the tables were turned.

  Sammi reached under the table and took her hand. “Hey, what’s bugging you?”

  “Nothing.” She twisted the wedding ring on her left hand and squeezed his with her right.

  “Autumn, seriously, you’re bugging out.” His forehead creased and the corners of his mouth were turned down.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Really? Then why are you bouncing your leg and messing with the napkin? You keep nudging your water glass across the table. Do you not like this place?” He really didn’t get it, and while it was cute, the socioeconomic differences couldn’t be clearer to her.

  “No, it’s beautiful,” she insisted.

  And it was. The carpet was a deep burgundy, the walls white, all the windows open with long curtains billowing in the breeze, and the table and decor screamed class and wealth. It wasn’t the place that bothered her.

  The waiter approached their table, his nose in the air. Apparently even to work here a person had to be entitled. He set their drinks down and straightened, somehow managing to adjust his suit jacket as he did so.

  “Are you ready to order, sir?”

  Sammi glanced at her.

  Shit.

  “Uh, I’m sorry, I haven’t really looked at the menu,” she admitted.

  “Why don’t you bring us out some salads and we can go from there,” Sammi suggested.

  The waiter didn’t even glance in her direction. “Certainly, sir. I’ll have that right out.”

  Autumn peered around, wondering where the bathroom was. Maybe she could escape?

  “Should we leave?” Sammi asked.

  “Maybe.” Maybe it was time to admit defeat here.

  Why was she getting so worked up over this? It was insane.

  “Come here.” He stood, leaving her no choice but to follow his example. He led her out onto an empty patio. They hadn’t come during the height of the tourist season, which meant the resort, restaurants and attractions were operating at less than capacity.

  She breathed deeply of the evening air, perfumed by the blossoms planted around the railing and the sea breeze. A tightness constricting her chest eased and she felt a little relief.

  Autumn crossed to the edge of the patio and stared off toward the beach, which was a dark line now the sun had set.

  Sammi slid his hands up and down her arms, a comforting presence at her back. He didn’t speak for several moments, but she didn’t know how to explain her reaction.

  “You looked like you were about to have a panic attack. Feel better?” he asked quietly.

  “Yeah.” She turned to face him.

  “Can you tell me what’s going on, Sunshine?” His brow creased, his concern comforting.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged.

  “Try?”

  She glanced over his shoulder and found a table of four women with sour expressions on their faces watching them. Their distaste for her couldn’t be more apparent.

  “I don’t belong here.” She wrapped her arms around herself.

  “What?” One side of his face scrunched up. He just didn’t get it.

  “Look at me.” She spread her arms. “To these people I’m white trash. I don’t dress like them, talk like them or act like them, and even our waiter can see it. He hasn’t acknowledged I’m there. These people think I’m a whore you brought here with you for a good weekend.” She’d had offers like that before, but her self-respect had always made her turn them down. There were things she wouldn’t do, not many, and that was one.

  Sammi opened his mouth and closed it.

  He was a great guy, but there were some differences between them they wouldn’t be able to fix before their time was up. Maybe it would be better if he went out with his other friends and came home to her. The idea hurt her, but this wasn’t about her. The deal they’d struck was for him. It was her fault she attached to people so easily.

  Sammi glanced over his shoulder and his gaze instantly snagged on the table of female observers. One had the audacity to bat her fake eyelashes at him and smile. Autumn wanted to rip the hussies’ hair extensions out.

  He turned back to her, lines around his mouth.

  “Okay, I get it, but I don’t agree with it. Who the fuck cares what you look like? Our money is just as good as anyone else’s.”

  Autumn’s heart warmed a little. “I don’t know, I’m just—I want to leave. I’m sorry.”

  Sammi studied her, his gaze revealing none of his thoughts. “What if we ate out here and asked them to close the doors? I’ll get us a different waiter. I don’t give a fuck, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to leave because of other people’s shitty attitudes.”

  Something in her chest curled in on itself. Her behavior was cowardly and she hated it. She inhaled a slow, deep breath. “Okay.”

  Sammi cupped her face and pressed a quick kiss to her lips before turning on his heel and marching back inside. The waiter was bringing out their salads at the same moment.

  Autumn bit her lip, now exposed to all the stares on her own. She turned back to peer at the ocean and swiped a hand over her cheeks.

  Maybe she couldn’t do this, not for real. Sammi wanted a companion to the end, maybe what he needed were a few friends. Isaac and Ester could do fancy things with him, and she could what? Warm his bed? Get an occasional quick bite to eat with him?

  Perhaps this was a mistake after all.

  Sammi found the maître d’ at the front of the restaurant, greeting a well-dressed party.

  This was his fault. Sammi kicked himself for not taking into consideration that, even though they were on vacation, people were still judgmental assholes.

  The maître d’ fluidly handed off the party to a host who led them away to be seated before turning to Sammi. “May I help you, sir?”

  “Yes. My wife and I were just married—”

  “Congratulations.” The man had seated them, knew what Autumn looked like and still his tone was genuine. Sammi decided he liked the maître d’ on the spot.

  “Thank you. What was your name?”

  The maître d’ blinked. “Howard Fugelsag, sir.”

  “That is an impressive last name.”

  Howard broke the professional serenity and grinned. “It’s a mouthful. What can I do for you, sir?”

  “Okay, Howard, this is an odd request. My wife is uncomfortable in the main seating area.”

  “The lady with the tattoos and lovely smile?”

  “Yes. Do you suppose we could sit on the patio, make it private, kind of romantic?”

  Howard nodded but didn’t reply immediately. “I believe so.” He turned to the hostess at the front and gestured for her to join them. “Ginger, grab the lanterns in the closet and two other people to help you light them. Get one of the carts and have the bus team meet me on the patio in five minutes.”

  Ginger nodded and took off at a dignified jog.

  “Thank you for doing this. I’m willing to pay for it—”

  “No need, sir. We strive to deliver the best experience to all of our guests.”

  Somehow Sammi doubted that, but he was appreciative anyways.

  “Thank you.” He shook Howard’s hand and left him to the hurried preparations.

  Sammi headed back to the patio. He could see Autumn through the windows, her hair blowing gently on the breeze, elbows on the railing. Colorful tattoos ran across her back and down her arms. She’d taught him something in the short time they’d been married. He’d never look at people the same.

  “Excuse me?” A woman with a short blonde bob, whom he recognized as being one of the four voyeurs, stepped into his path.

  He stopped
short, blinking at the woman who didn’t even come up to his chin with the heels. “Yes?”

  “Are you Sammi Zimmerman?” She leaned toward him, fluttering her eyelashes a bit.

  “Yes,” he said slowly.

  “I thought it was you.” She patted his shoulder and smiled. He’d seen the same expression on a snake once. He hadn’t liked it.

  “I’m sorry, do I know you?” There was a long line of women in his past, but he’d never been fond of the short ones. He liked a woman he could look in the eyes.

  “Oh, we partied together a few times in Miami. I’m Tiffany.” She offered her hand as though he was supposed to kiss it. He shook it instead.

  “Crazy running into you again, Tiffany.” He mentally ran through his past traveling experiences. Miami?

  “We were bound to. People like us always run in the same circles. I was just having dinner with my girlfriends. Would you like to join us?” Tiffany gestured to the table of other women, all smiling like predators.

  “I’m sorry, I’m actually having dinner with my wife. It’s our honeymoon. Maybe another time?”

  Like, never?

  “Your wife?” Tiffany’s jaw dropped and she glanced from Autumn to him, clearly aghast.

  Autumn had turned and was watching them, her mouth compressed in a tight line.

  Shit.

  “Yeah, we actually got married just a few days ago.” He couldn’t resist adding that. Whatever Tiffany had plotted out before speaking to him would be moot now.

  The hostess passed him followed by Howard with a cart full of glowing candles.

  That was his escape.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my wife.” Sammi smiled at them even though it made him feel dirty and headed out to the patio.

  Autumn glanced at the candles being set up along the rail, on tables, everywhere, and back to him.

  “Hey, Howard?” Sammi said.

  “Yes sir?”

  “Do you think we could get some privacy?” He thumbed at the table behind him, using his body as a shield.

  “Right away.” Howard went to a closet on the exterior of the building and with the help of a server pulled out a six-foot folding screen. It unfolded like an accordion. Another followed it until there was a private, shielded alcove created just for them.

  “Sammi, what are you doing?” Autumn whispered.

  He put his arm around her. “We’re going to have a beautiful dinner, just the two of us.”

  “What was that in there?” Her gaze narrowed.

  “That was a gold digger. Tiffany,” he said her name, voice dripping with disdain, “says we partied together. She’s not my type, by the way. I’ve only been to Miami once, which is where she claims we met. My layover at the airport wasn’t long enough to get a cocktail, much less party. Forget them. This is about us enjoying ourselves.”

  Autumn just stared at him, which was almost comical, but he knew better than to laugh right now.

  Howard and his team transformed the patio in a matter of minutes. The other tables were rearranged to leave theirs plenty of space. It was set with china and decorated with candles and a bouquet of white lilies. It was simple and elegant.

  The maître d’ bowed. “Ma’am, may I congratulate you on your wedding?”

  Autumn glanced between them. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. If you’ll have a seat, I’ll be back in a few moments to take your order personally.” Howard inclined his head and smiled at them before pivoting and walking away to tend to business elsewhere.

  Sammi placed his hand at the small of her back and gestured toward the table. “Come on, Sunshine.”

  Autumn hesitated, but capitulated to his wishes. She let him escort her to her seat, pull the chair out for her and push it in as she sat. He circled and took his seat across from her.

  “What just happened?” Autumn’s face was creased, a frown marring her typically cheerful expression.

  “I moved heaven and earth for this dinner. Now I’d like you to enjoy it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I mean.”

  He reached across the table and took her hand, his gaze serious. “I know, but what matters is that I want you to be comfortable and happy.”

  Autumn finally smiled, a little of herself blossoming. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now what do you want to eat?” He picked up the menus and handed one to her, the mood considerably lighter.

  Chapter Eight

  Dimple Piercings—Stud piercings that are placed in the natural crease of a person’s dimples.

  Autumn slid her feet out of her sandals and stepped off the sidewalk and into the sand. She wiggled her toes, cold, coarse grains rubbing between them.

  She started to walk toward the ocean. At this time of night there were only a few people not inside at the resort’s restaurants or clubs. It was almost like having the entire stretch of sand to herself. Except for the couple making out and a group of teenagers tossing a volleyball back and forth.

  It was quiet, tranquil, which was what she needed.

  After the incredibly sweet dinner, Sammi had fallen asleep. It wasn’t surprising given how they’d kept a steady pace since the wedding—snorkeling, boat tours—but neither had he experienced any weakness or sickness, so there was a small blessing.

  Besides, she needed time to process. She’d let herself get wrapped up in the excitement of the wedding, the exotic location and experiencing new things. She’d touched some kind of stingray when they’d gone snorkeling. It was amazing. But this trip would last only two more days. Tomorrow they were going out on another boat, this time to watch professional cliff jumpers, and then Sunday they would leave. By Monday they’d be back in the real world, a place that might not welcome her with open arms.

  The girls would be pissed. Mary and Kellie were going to tan her hide, but she’d gotten out of worse scrapes with them before, so she hoped they’d understand. She’d need their support more than anything if what Sammi predicted would be true.

  Death wasn’t something she was adept at handling. Shit. She’d never been close to anyone who’d kicked the bucket. There were things in her future she had no idea how to handle.

  Her heart beat painfully at the thought of Sammi’s death. She put her hand against her chest and breathed deep.

  Fuck.

  Sammi was in her heart already.

  She’d known it would happen. She’d secretly wanted him. Now that she had him, knew the reality of how good he was, how honest and caring he could be under the playboy front, she would fall in love with him. It was inevitable. And he’d break her heart.

  “Autumn?”

  Autumn turned and squinted at the silhouette of a woman dressed in an ankle-length dress. “Rebekah?”

  “Hi.” Rebekah stepped off the sidewalk and picked her way across the sand to her. “How are you doing? I hope I’m not intruding.”

  “Not at all. I’m good. Still having a good time? Where’s your husband?” Autumn glanced around for the rabbi but didn’t see him.

  “He’s doing some work.” Rebekah came to a stop a few feet away. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Sammi needed to sleep, so I figured either I try to be quiet and wake him up eventually or I take a walk.” Autumn shrugged. “I opted for a walk.”

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “Not at all. Please.” Autumn found herself pleasantly content with her company as they turned to stroll down the sand. They were worlds apart, the tattoo artist and rabbi’s wife, but Autumn liked her. Something about the way the woman looked at her and really saw a person and not just what she presented.

  “How is Sammi doing, if I may ask?” Rebekah clasped her hands behind her back and tipped her chin up. The sea breeze tossed her long, dark tresses.

  “Please, ask away. He’s doing really well. I thought he’d need to take more naps, maybe get a little sick here and there, but after that first day it’s like he’s ju
st getting better and better.” His color and appetite had improved tremendously. He was just exhausted after doing so much. Maybe it was the tropical climate?

  “I’m glad. How much longer are you here?”

  “Just ’til Sunday, so really just tomorrow. How about you?”

  “Three more days, then the vacation ends.” Rebekah glanced at her, a smile pulling up at the corners of her mouth.

  Autumn wished there had been more time to get to know the woman. Her quiet presence, the way she watched others and gently offered suggestions spoke of someone with deep insight. The kind Autumn didn’t have and would like to understand.

  “Tell me about it.” Autumn groaned at the line of conversation that mimicked her earlier thoughts so well.

  They walked for a few yards in silence, broken only by the wind in the trees and the crashing of the waves.

  “This may not be my place to say, but I think you have a great heart for Sammi and I want you to be prepared.” Rebekah stopped walking and Autumn turned to face her.

  “Huh?”

  “My husband and I are Reform Jews. Compared to traditional Jews we’re very forward-thinking and open-minded, but to the rest of the world we’re very conservative.”

  “Okay, so when you say ‘the rest of the world’, you mean people like me?”

  “Yes.” Rebekah’s face creased, some of her internal battle showing. “What I’m trying to tell you is that I like you. I think that if Sammi were taking you home to a community like ours, you might be welcomed. I don’t want to hurt you or scare you, but I believe you’re unprepared for how Sammi’s family is going to react to him marrying a non-Jewish woman.”

  Autumn’s first reaction was to bitch-slap the woman into the ocean, but she stopped herself. Light from the resort cast shadows on their faces, but she could still see the Rebekah’s sincere and pained expression. If Autumn were honest with herself, she’d known what Rebekah was saying would happen.

  She dropped to sit in the sand and sighed.