by Jean Oram
She’d married him because he was the husband type who could give her what she wanted, not because she thought he was the thrilling type who might get her interested in an intimate relationship. There was no room in this marriage for anything that might upset their perfect friendship. They were planning on bringing children into the equation.
She pulled back.
Children. Marriage.
Her mother’s not-so-secret belief was that this was a mistake, and that Amy would hurt Moe.
She didn’t want to hurt him for anything in the world, and kisses like these were equivalent to taking the express route to hurt city.
Moe was still holding her in his arms, and blinking at her as though she’d stunned him with unexpected life-altering news.
“Wow.” He was breathless, his gaze so focused on her that she wanted to clutch his face and lay another one on him.
Obviously realizing they had an audience, Moe slowly released her. He took a step back and rubbed the nape of his neck. She missed the feel of him pressed up against her already.
Amy took a small step forward, whispering, “I’m sorry.”
His hands caught her waist in a move so natural she knew her mother would soon be harping on about Moe, true love and all that she’d never have.
“You always surprise me,” Moe whispered, just before her parents joined them to offer their congratulations. Amy shivered as a breeze came off the lake, but knew it wasn’t from the cool air washing over her, but rather from Moe’s words and the low rumble of longing filtering into his voice.
He turned away from her to give her father a hearty handshake before accepting a hug from her mother.
“It’s about time the two of you got back together and made it official-like,” Mary Alice said, dusting her hands as if she’d accomplished bringing them together romantically rather than simply making their unorthodox arrangement legal.
“You know it’s not like that,” Amy said quietly.
“Just wait and see, dear.” She lifted her chin smugly and went to chat with a few of the guests.
“That was some kiss,” Amy’s mother said. She was studying her, head tipped to the side, lips pulled into a smile.
Moe and her father were laughing about something, looking at the lake and gesturing. Faith hooked her arm through Amy’s and murmured, “I heard Moe’s heartfelt vows.”
“Mom,” she warned. “It’s not like that.”
“I heard yours, too.” She lifted one eyebrow, arching it like it was a bow, silently challenging Amy to shrug things off.
“We’re really good friends. That’s all.”
Moe’s vows had been amazing. Romantic. The way he’d said them with that tender look in his eyes, as if he’d protect her from anything and everything, had made her entire being want to melt. It had made her want, just for a moment, for all this to be real.
But it wasn’t. And because it wasn’t, it would last. That’s what mattered. Not that flicker of gooeyness that felt like it could be something akin to love.
“So I hear you two are planning on kids right away,” Amy’s father said, bringing Amy and her mother into the conversation he’d been having with Moe.
“They’ll be very cute and smart,” Moe said, winking at Amy. “Just like your daughter.”
Well, that idea left a warm feeling deep in her gut.
“Just do a better job than we did with helping your kids find a career they’ll love,” Amy’s mother said, her smile not quite as free as a happy one, her eyes damp. “Make sure what they find makes them content.” She clung to Amy’s hands, giving them a squeeze.
Amy had to clear the emotion from her own throat and look away.
“If they turn out anything like your daughter, we’ll all be very blessed,” Moe declared.
“Yes, we sure will,” Faith said unsteadily. She took her husband’s arm and headed toward Mary Alice and the champagne laid out on tables along the water’s edge.
Moe said to Amy, “That will be fun.”
She let out a long breath, shaking off the emotion. “What will?”
He nudged her with his shoulder. “Helping you make some babies, then raising them.”
“I’m sure all men dream of in vitro.”
“I like in vitro. It ensures separate bedrooms, which means no wife stealing my blankets in the middle of the night.”
“You’re a pillow hog,” she murmured in reply, mulling over the warm feeling that had washed over her when he’d referred to her as his wife. She liked the sound of that word.
He let his arm rub against hers as they walked. “And you like to put your cold feet on my thighs,” he grumbled.
“You’re always warm.”
“Are you having your first fight?” his sister, Lily, asked, coming over to hug them and offer congratulations.
“Yes, and it won’t be our last,” Moe announced.
“What else are we going to fight about?” Amy asked.
“Money, politics, religion?”
“Speaking of money…” Amy turned to him “My mom and I kind of had a thing earlier. I’ll be repaying them for all of the wedding costs.”
Moe was watching her, waiting for the punch line. Finally, he simply said, “Oh. Okay.”
“That wasn’t much of a fight,” Lily said, looking from bride to groom, then back again. “I was hoping for some fireworks. Speaking of which, you didn’t invite Mom or Dad?”
Moe, who had been watching Amy, and in true Moe fashion was likely putting together pieces she wasn’t sure were actually there, turned his attention to his sister, an immediate tension washing over him, settling into his muscles.
“You know I haven’t seen Mom since we were kids, and Dad hates planes,” he said, his words clipped.
“Have you talked to them?” Lily asked.
“Dad hasn’t picked up the phone since we signed our lives away on that little house for him back in May.”
Amy automatically gave Moe’s arm a supportive squeeze, knowing that he’d always worried about his father’s financial security, sending money for rent, groceries and medical bills. He’d even partnered with Lily recently, dipping into his personal savings, to ensure the man had a roof over his head out in South Carolina. Moe had bought one-half of two houses—for his dad and for them—in the past few months. The bank must be loving him about now.
“He’s been busy getting into gardening,” Lily said, idly rubbing her right arm with her left hand, giving Amy the impression she had something to hide.
“He’s avoiding me. I’ve wounded his pride. And why would I talk to Mom?”
“No reason.” Lily shifted, eyes darting to the side.
“Wait,” Moe said, slowly. “You’ve talked to Dad.”
“It was barely even a conversation.”
“We could fight about…” Amy racked her brain, sensing that if they kept talking about their absent parents a real fight might break out. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like not having her mom and dad in her life, meddling and helping all the time. All those opinions and judgments, that unconditional love and support. Amy knew that, even though it was a pain in the tush, it was something Moe longed for. Something he’d been denied when Lily and his father had moved across the continent shortly after Moe’s high school graduation, creating more emotional distance between him and his father, and even less between their father and Lily. He wanted to be close to his family and had tried to convince his father to move back West when Lily had over a year ago.
“We could fight about who’ll take the late-night feedings,” she suggested, her voice rising hopefully.
“The baby will sleep in your room,” Moe said decisively. He’d crossed his arms, his brow pinched as he stared at his sister.
“That’s too gender specific.” Amy waved a hand. “The baby can sleep in your room. You can be the poster child for a modern-day dad.”
Moe snorted, his posture loosening.
“It would be easier to fight it out i
f you were sleeping in the same bed, you know,” said Lily’s husband as he joined them. Ethan shook Moe’s hand before hugging Amy.
“These two are in denial about their marriage,” Lily told him. She hadn’t broken eye contact with Moe yet and Amy was curious which sibling would back down first.
“Denial?” Amy asked.
Lily made a heart shape with her hands, causing Moe to snort again and Amy to laugh. Just like that the spell between brother and sister was broken.
“By the time the babies start coming they’ll be sharing a bed.” Lily spoke with an authority that made Amy inexplicably nervous, because after that kiss, anything felt possible when it came to their marriage.
“So?” Lily demanded.
Moe cringed as they uncovered the picnic wedding feast his little sister had prepared. He knew she was curious about the truth of his marriage, thanks to the way he’d poured out his heart and then kissed Amy like they had something going on. If all kisses between “friends” were that good he should have tried kissing more friends.
Indicating the food spread out in front of them, he said, “Your cooking skills sure have come a long way since we were kids.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“That wasn’t a question. That was a trap.”
Shortly after Lily was born, their mother had left them, pretty much ignoring the fact that she had a family, other than sending the odd birthday card. Moe wasn’t sure if his mother had remarried, but his father hadn’t. He likely hadn’t had the time, as he’d spent most of his waking hours working low-level jobs to put food on the table. That, and complaining about The Man crushing the uneducated little guy—him.
With their father pulling twelve-hour shifts in the now-closed local coal mines, he’d missed more suppers than he’d been present for. As a result, Moe and Lily had taught themselves to cook, but after high school, Lily had taken it up a notch by attending a prestigious cooking school. She now owned a restaurant in Blueberry Springs that had belonged to her one-time childhood protector, Ethan Mattson. Through some strange business deal Moe still didn’t completely understand, the two had gotten married. They hadn’t planned to stay together after the restaurant and catering business switched hands, but they were, and seemed happy. Heck, these days Moe didn’t even recognize his old friend Ethan half the time, due to the way he was always smiling.
The only black cloud in the romance had been an incident between Lily and an ex that had almost cost her her life. Moe knew his sister was seeing a therapist as a result, and still had the odd nightmare.
“How are you?” he asked, turning to Lily, arms crossed. He knew she’d understand from his tone what he was really asking.
“Today isn’t about me.” She put her hands on her hips and tipped her head to the side, her hair pinned loosely in a high bun. “It’s about you and your little marriage pledge and how you’re going to have children—” she formed air quotes with her fingers “—platonically.” She gave him a sly smile normally reserved for when she was doing something like slipping hot chili peppers in his cocoa—which turned out to be pretty tasty, actually.
“For the record,” she continued, in a bossy, know-it-all tone, “platonic never lasts when you’re married. Especially if there’s history.”
“We’re not you and Ethan. You two had it bad for each other for a long time. Amy and I tried that dating thing. Failed. We’re over it. This marriage of convenience isn’t going to lead to romance.”
“Sure, sure,” she said, waving off his argument before going back in for another attack, as only a sister would. “How many times have you two gotten back together?”
He pretended to think. “About half a dozen.”
Lily rolled her eyes at the exaggeration. “You guys know artificial insemination is expensive, right?”
“I’m sure Amy has it all figured out.” Moe slid his gaze toward the woman in the white dress. His best friend. His wife. The mother of their future babies.
Thinking of her that way made him feel protective, and a wave of warmth settled in his bones.
But had she planned for the cost of in vitro? Amy wasn’t exactly a details person, especially when it came to money. It seemed her parents were often bailing her out here and there—although apparently they had closed the Bank of Mom and Dad if she was springing for the wedding on her own. Well, he would split the cost like they had with the house, of course, even though he would have been happy with a quick little appointment at the courthouse instead of an actual wedding.
The problem was that their existing medical insurance plans likely didn’t cover something that was surely deemed a nonessential procedure. But Amy was a registered nurse. Surely she knew the ins and outs of medical plans, and had something up her sleeve.
“Maybe you’ll have to take that offer from Cesar’s estate and buy the pub, so you’ll have lots of money.”
“Don’t think owning a business is like having a money tree.”
Moe had worked in the pub for years, helping the owner, Cesar Phipps, care for it, while mainly tending the bar. Since Cesar’s sudden passing last month Moe had found himself thrust into a managerial role as well. For three months—from late June to late September—he was running Brew Babies single-handedly. At the end of that trial period, if he maintained profits, he could purchase the pub for approximately half its market value, the other portion being bequeathed to him. If he failed, the business would be liquidated, all proceeds going to Cesar’s children, Kimi and Spencer.
The problem was Moe was suddenly working two jobs—his old one, plus everything Cesar had done behind the scenes from the city and on his biweekly visits. So far it wasn’t nearly as much fun as mixing drinks behind the bar, but Moe felt taking on the challenge was the right way to go. Cesar had been like a father and was trying to share his legacy with Moe. He had to respect that even though the man hadn’t trained him well enough to take over. Not on his own. Not yet. But as a man with a mortgage, depleted savings and kids soon to be on the way, he needed to figure it out.
In his shock over Cesar’s death, the latest crisis with his dad and the flurry of his and Amy’s marriage, not to mention the house hunting, he hadn’t planned for the almost two hundred thousand dollars he’d need to purchase Brew Babies. Honestly, the pub deal still didn’t feel real. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, revealing that he didn’t simply have to run the place profitably, cough up some cash and it would be his. Moe kept dealing with the most urgent matters first—getting a roof over his father’s head, after his latest eviction for not paying his rent, then fulfilling his promise to Amy—all the while hoping that something would work out regarding the extra money he needed. Such as Wini at the bank saying that being bequeathed half the pub’s value would do fine in lieu of an actual down payment on his loan.
In other words, he’d pulled an Amy and closed his eyes, hoping everything would work out.
It wasn’t a good plan.
And yet he had faith that he’d figure something out. It worked for Amy, right?
“Still, to be an owner and in control of your destiny... Why wouldn’t you want that?” Lily pressed.
“I’m not sure,” he said, not bothering to list all the reasons he wasn’t certain about how things would turn out.
“If you don’t buy the place and start banking profits each month, you might only be able to afford to have kids the old-fashioned way,” she whispered, sending a whole new flurry of distracting thoughts through Moe’s head. Especially if fulfilling the biggest clause in their marriage pledge came down to a mission between the sheets.
2
Surrounded by boxes, Amy sat on the floor of her little apartment overlooking Main Street in Blueberry Springs. She’d been living in the homey space since Mandy Mattson had given it up when she’d married Frankie Smith. Amy hadn’t been there all that long, but it felt like home, and she knew she’d miss it. Watching all the action on the street below was better than television most days
. Especially when “Gramps,” aka Ethan, Mandy and Devon’s grandfather, decided to give everyone in town an eyeful and went for a stroll in his boxer shorts.
As Amy rearranged dishes in the box she’d just packed, her gaze caught on the simple wedding band on her left hand, the feeling of it still unfamiliar. They’d taken possession of their new home three days ago and Moe had moved in immediately. How was he always so organized? It seemed every time Amy turned around there was something to distract her from finishing packing.
Their wedding, only six days ago, already felt like a dream, a dress-up party similar to ones she used to have during recess in elementary school, where she would “marry” various boys from her class.
But that kiss. It had felt real, and had made their marriage feel real, too, made it feel fraught with potential. Potential for heartbreak.
What if she failed at being a wife? What if she hurt Moe? What if her mother was right and marrying him would turn out to be a mistake? A fun idea that, on a whim, she’d followed through on, without taking the time to fully think about the possible consequences.
She shoved the box away and got to her feet. Things between her and Moe already felt different. In the pub there was an awkward hiccup whenever they talked, with both of them waiting for the other to speak, then stumbling when their words came out too fast.
Amy glanced up at the ceiling and let out a groan. That kiss had really gotten under her skin, messing with everything.
She sighed and tossed a magazine into a new box, then pulled it back out. It was an issue where one of her sister’s articles had been printed. Jillian had been only sixteen at the time, but already starting to make a name for herself as a writer.
Her sister had beamed when the issue had arrived in the mail, her eyes so full of excitement that despite her envy, Amy had been happy for her.
“Look what Jillian’s done!” their mother had said, holding the magazine up like a trophy for all to behold. “See, Amy? All you have to do is focus, and you can achieve whatever your heart desires.”
