by Kendall Ryan
Crossing the room, I take a seat on the tan couch, one of the few pieces of furniture in the space. Moments later, Landon joins me, handing me a can of ginger ale.
“Do you just keep these around?” I ask, accepting the chilled drink from him and tugging at the pop tab until it snaps open.
“No, I picked up some just in case last night. You were drinking it in the honeymoon suite, so I figured you liked it.”
I suppress a smirk. “I was drinking ginger ale in Vegas because I was hung over, not because it’s my all-time favorite drink.” When I notice the disappointment in his eyes, I quickly add, “But I was actually in the mood for ginger ale today, so thank you,” which cheers him up enough to put the light back in his bright blue eyes.
It really was sweet for him to remember my beverage choice. No one has cared enough to notice the tiniest details about me in a long time.
A knock at the door brings Landon to his feet again. “That must be the appraiser.”
He grabs a stack of papers off the coffee table, then heads for the door, welcoming in a slim woman with jet-black hair that matches her black pantsuit and pumps. She’s striking, and the way she smiles at Landon makes me feel surprisingly defensive. Springing to my feet, I shake her hand and introduce myself.
An enormous smile spreads across her face, as though ring insurance were the most exciting thing in the world. “You two are a gorgeous couple. I’ll bet your wedding pictures are like something straight out of a bridal magazine.”
I smile while biting my tongue. If only she knew the only pictures we have are blurry ones that our drunk friends took on their cell phones. “Let’s get this appraisal done, shall we?”
The three of us settle in the living room, and Landon hands over the stack of paperwork he’s been clutching.
“Here’s the receipt, and the copy of the certificate of authenticity you requested.”
The appraiser nods, running one red nail along the details printed on the page. Three carats. Platinum setting. All the things a girl dreams her ring will be. Unbuckling her briefcase, she slips the papers away and hands Landon a pen, along with a few documents to sign.
“While you review those, I’ll just need to take a quick look at the ring itself.”
Reluctantly, I shimmy the ring off my finger and place it in her palm. Despite the fact that I haven’t worn it all week, I feel naked the second I take it off. Like a crucial part of me is missing. My eyes stay glued on her as she inspects the center diamond, jotting down notes on the color and cut.
“So, when was the big day?” she asks, her gaze still firmly locked on my ring. Thank God she doesn’t look up at me, or she would see that I have to squint and rack my brain to come up with the date.
“A week ago from yesterday? So that would’ve been . . . June twelfth, right?” I look to Landon for confirmation, but he has his nose buried in paperwork, seemingly as uncomfortable with this question as I am.
“A June wedding. Great choice.”
I’m sure she’s envisioning peonies and a sunny outdoor ceremony, and I’m not about to correct her. “Yep, we love the summertime.”
The words feel foreign in my mouth. We love the summertime. As if Landon and I have known each other long enough to share an opinion on favorite seasons.
“Such a perfect time of year for a honeymoon too,” she says, returning the ring to me. “Where did you two go?”
“We, um, we actually didn’t have one,” I say, sliding the ring back on. Suddenly, I find myself very interested in picking at my nail polish. Anything to avoid eye contact with this nosy Nancy.
“Delayed honeymoon,” she says, nodding as if it all makes sense. “I’ve heard they’re super trendy right now. Gives you something to look forward to, right?”
“That’s right,” Landon says, sliding the stack of signed papers across the coffee table. “Is there anything else you need?”
The appraiser flips through the paperwork, verifying Landon has signed every dotted line before tucking it into her briefcase. “That should be it. Short and sweet. I hope I didn’t delay your weekend plans.”
Landon shakes his head as he pushes to his feet, cueing us to do the same. “We’re just going shopping today. I need to get this place furnished.” He tilts his head toward the sparsely decorated space. “If you hadn’t noticed.”
She laughs politely, then cranes her neck to take in the bare apartment. “There’s a lot you can do with this space. I can just see it with an old oak hutch full of your wedding pictures, maybe even a high chair at the kitchen table.” She gives me a wink that makes my stomach lurch.
“We’re going to focus on the basics first,” I snap, cocking my head and giving her the fakest smile I can muster. She came here to appraise my ring, not to give us family-planning advice.
My sass must be detectable, because she doesn’t even bother trying to shake my hand before scurrying out the door. When it clicks closed behind her, the air in the room feels lighter somehow.
“I take it you didn’t like her very much.” Landon turns toward me with an apologetic look in his eyes, but when he sees my tight-lipped scowl, he laughs. “It’s no big deal, Bree. Those are normal questions to ask a married couple.”
“A normal married couple,” I say, correcting him. “Which we’re not.”
“As far as anyone else knows, we’re a regular all-American bride and groom.” He pulls his leather jacket off the back of a chair and tugs it over his muscular arms. “I wasn’t kidding about furniture shopping today, though. Are you down?”
I reach for my purse, nodding. Furniture shopping sounds fun. And I doubt the candles and picture frames will ask us about when we’re having children.
• • •
Walking into the luxury home store, I feel like somebody should be playing the music from Annie. I feel like I’m the little redhead, wandering into Daddy Warbucks’ mansion. And I’ll admit it. I think I’m gonna like it here.
As I wander the store, running my fingers along the expensive linens and silks, it feels like I’m living out a daydream. I’ve never spent more than fifty bucks on anything in my apartment. I don’t have the budget for it.
But years of honing my thrifting skills have been preparing me for this. My eye for design and ability to find diamonds in the rough is something I’m proud of. And trust me, there’s a lot of rough in this store. Just because it’s all expensive doesn’t mean it’s all good. And it takes less than five minutes for it to become glaringly obvious that Landon wouldn’t know a quality throw pillow if it hit him in his cute hockey-player butt.
“What about these?” He holds up a set of throw pillows the exact shade of a rotting pumpkin.
I can’t help but crinkle my nose in disgust. “You’d better set those down before the ugly starts rubbing off on you.”
He sighs, returning them to the shelf, then reaches for a black-and-purple striped pillow.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warn him, and he yanks his hand back faster than if he’d touched a hot stove.
“What’s wrong with those?” His tone is so defensive that for a second, I think we must be looking at different pillows. But, no, sure enough, he’s gesturing to the striped nightmares.
“Where did you get your taste from? The clearance rack at a Halloween costume store?”
“Jeez, you don’t have to be so mean about it,” he grumbles under his breath, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’ve always lived in pre-furnished apartments before. I’m new to this.”
I bite down on my lower lip to hold back any more sassy comments. Maybe I was a little harsh. He is a guy, after all. And a twenty-three-year-old at that. He invited me here to help him, not to hurt his feelings.
“I’m sorry, I was rude. Let’s start over. What do you want the vibe of your apartment to be?”
His expression relaxes as he runs a hand over his stubble, mulling over my question. “I just want it to feel like home. Cozy, I guess? I like colors,
but apparently the wrong ones, according to you.”
I nod along with his suggestions. “We can do color. How about I pick some things out that I think will work, and you can be in charge of, um . . . candles.”
He raises one thick brow, a suspicious gleam in his brilliant blue eyes. “So you choose everything, and I take the job I’m least likely to screw up?”
“Pretty much,” I say with a shrug. There’s no sense in sugarcoating it. “Call it my wifely duties kicking in.”
The scrunched look on his face is clearly skeptical, but slowly, he surrenders the cart to me. “Fine. But no way are you just banishing me to candle land while you take full control. I’m coming with you.”
Landon follows close behind me as I do a lap around the store, holding up options of different colored curtains, blankets, and placemats. He doesn’t argue with me when I suggest a neutral color palette with pops of color, but I do have to talk him down from this weird medieval-looking kitchen table he’s convinced he needs.
I’m surprised by how much fun we have doing something as simple as picking out placemats. By the time we’re done, our cart is overflowing, and his list of furniture to order for delivery is impressively long.
“You did very well,” I tell him as he swipes his credit card, making a purchase that, aside from my ring, is probably the most money he’s spent at one time, but he takes it in stride. I guess when your paycheck is seven figures, you don’t sweat something as simple as furnishing your home.
“We did very well,” he says, correcting me. “We’re not such a bad team after all.”
“As long as you let me take the lead,” I tell him, taking as many shopping bags as I can hold in my hands. He snickers, scooping up the rest.
It’s a short walk back to his car, and Landon loads his bags inside, then takes each one from me to place it carefully in the trunk.
“Should we set all this stuff up when we get back to your place?” I ask as we drive. I might be a little bit giddy to play interior designer with all his new decor.
“It doesn’t just have to be my place, you know.” His lips lift into a soft smile as his kind eyes meet mine. “There’s plenty of room for two. And it’s a lot closer to your office.”
My eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of my head. “You can’t seriously be suggesting that I move in with you.”
“What if I am?”
There’s not the slightest hint of sarcasm in his tone, and if he looks at me even a second longer with those deep blue eyes, he’s going to knock me right over, and I’ll start agreeing to things I have absolutely no right to agree with.
I don’t know what to say without hurting his feelings, so I just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Landon, you’re being weird.”
He gives me a pointed look. “What’s weird is a married couple not living together.”
“But we’re not a normal married couple.” I feel like a broken record, but apparently, the concept hasn’t gotten through his head.
His nostrils flare as he reins in his frustration with a long, strained exhale. “Fine. We’ll discuss it later.”
He pulls into the parking garage for his building, but rather than open the trunk when we climb out like I expect, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key fob. He clicks it twice, triggering a beep, and the lights flash once on a shiny black SUV parked nearby. I have no choice but to follow him toward the SUV.
“How many cars do you own?” I ask, trying to keep up.
“It’s not mine. It’s yours.”
“Wait, hold up a second. What did you say?”
Landon rolls back his shoulders, looking proud. “It’s yours. A gift. All the guys’ wives drive nice cars. Call it an official initiation into the Ice Hawks wives club.”
I can feel the anger slowly creeping up my throat. “You bought me a car without asking?”
“Um, yeah. That’s how gifts work, right?” Frowning, he says, “I thought you’d be more excited about this.”
I fold my arms tightly over my chest, fully aware he’s unhappy about my reaction. “How can I be excited? I like my car. It has a great safety rating, gets good gas mileage, and I just got good at parallel parking with it. If you would’ve asked me first, you would’ve known that.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.” He grips the back of his neck as he stares down at the gray concrete beneath our feet. “I didn’t think about that.”
I sigh, uncrossing my arms. I can’t bear the sight of him looking so bummed. But this is something we need to talk about.
I walk past him and open one of the back doors, peering inside. “It’s a beautiful car, Landon. I just don’t understand why you bought it. Was it really just so I would fit in with the WAGs?”
“You want the real reason?”
“Of course. I’ll always want honesty from you.”
He sighs, worrying one hand through his messy hair before shifting his gaze toward mine. “I thought you’d look hot driving it.”
I scoff. That has to be a joke, right? But once again, there’s nothing but sincerity in his brilliant blue eyes. My lips part as I fumble for the right words, but I’m momentarily speechless.
“You okay?” He laughs, raising one thick brow.
“You spent eighty thousand dollars on an SUV because you thought I’d look cute sitting in the driver’s seat?”
He nods, as if this whole thing were totally ordinary.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?”
“Fuck, come here.” He scrubs a hand down his face before turning my body toward his. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“That’s obvious.” I smirk, somehow feeling pleased by his discomfort. This entire time he’s been so in control, so chill about this marriage, while I’ve been reeling in confusion and not having a clue what the hell I’m doing or how to act.
At the first sign of a smile on my lips, he slides an arm around my waist and tugs me even closer to him. “I’m your idiot.” He presses a gentle kiss to my cheekbone, sending a flutter to my chest. “Try with me.”
“I am trying,” I say defensively.
The faint smile twitching on his lips gives everything away. He knows I’m lying. Dammit. Why does he have to be so perceptive?
“We’ll get there,” he says encouragingly.
I fold my arms over my chest as a foreign feeling twists inside me. I both hate and love his confidence in us.
“Patience is a virtue, Landon,” I say softly, feeling shaken.
He smiles again, genuinely this time, and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You look cute as hell when you’re mad.”
And before I have time to pick a fight, his mouth descends on mine.
It’s just a kiss, a sweet, slow kiss, but it makes me nervous. His kiss holds the power to unleash a torrent of emotions I don’t want to feel, but I’m powerless to say no. I want his firm mouth moving on mine.
I draw in a huge, stuttering breath, forcing my lungs into action. And when my lips part, he teases his tongue inside.
Everything in my lower half clenches. Dear God . . . this man. He sucks expertly on my bottom lip, nipping at it gently.
The kiss is over way too soon. Before long, Landon pulls back to meet my eyes with a smirk. I don’t have any idea how he manages to rile me up one second and then turn me on the next. It’s a heady, potent combination that I may never get sick of.
“Should we go upstairs?” he asks, his voice raspy.
“What about the bags?”
“I can ask my building’s concierge to bring them up in a bit.”
“Then it looks like we’re going upstairs.” I smile while my heart pounds out an uneven rhythm.
8
* * *
Sorry, Not Sorry
Landon
I take Aubree’s hand, tugging her behind me toward the elevator in my apartment building. She jams her finger against the button several times.
“You know that won’t make the eleva
tor come any faster, right?” I chuckle, squeezing her hand.
“Shush your mouth,” she says with a crooked smile, meeting my eyes.
Loving how feisty she is, I grin at her. “Thank you for today. For coming with me, I mean.”
She nods. “I’m terrified to think what you would have chosen if I wasn’t there.”
Feeling smug, I shake my head. I’m trying not to feel let down at how quickly she refused my gift—that gift being a luxury SUV, mind you. I only wanted to make her happy, but it seems I have a lot to learn about pleasing my wife.
“Can you stay?” I ask when the elevator door opens on my floor.
With a smile tugging at her lips, Aubree nods. “I suppose I can stay for a little while.”
I unlock my apartment and let her inside, pausing by the kitchen. “Something to drink?”
“I’m good,” she says, but her body language tells a different story. Her posture is straight, stiff, and she hasn’t wandered more than a half-dozen steps inside my apartment.
“Care to tell me what’s on your mind?” I ask.
She turns to face me with worry clouding her features. “This is crazy, Landon. That SUV is crazy. All of this is crazy.”
“My dad was married four times,” I blurt, just tossing it out there. Nice.
“What?” Aubree narrows her eyes.
“He jumped from relationship to relationship, swearing it was love, promising it was going to last. But it never did.”
“Okay . . .” She shifts, still watching me.
“And he wasn’t just some delusional sap. I really think he was convinced each time that this was it. He’d found his soul mate. His person. That he’d finally found the one.”
“I take it he’s not married now?”
I shake my head. Last time I talked to him, he’d signed up for one of those “silver singles” dating sites.
“Landon, I . . .”
I hold up one hand. “Let me finish.”
Her mouth closes, and she gestures for me to go ahead.
