Marriage For One

“Good. Then after we drop by your place, we’ll head back to my apartment. In the next few days, you’ll bring the rest of your stuff.”

Just like that, I was out of excuses, so I closed my mouth and gave myself permission to sulk in silence for a few minutes. It lasted until he picked up the small paintbrush and started on the edges.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Jack stated quietly with a slight touch of anger tinging his voice.

My elbow was on the counter and I was resting my head on my palm when he spoke up. I opened my eyes to check his progress.

“It looks good from here. Again, you don’t have to do it, but thank you.”

His movements with the brush faltered for a second, but he didn’t stop. “I’m not talking about the painting. I’m saying I don’t know how to do this with you. I don’t know how to be married.”

I stared at the back of his head, blinking and trying to make sure I’d heard him right. I took my time trying to figure out how to answer. “I’ve never married a stranger before either, so I think we’re on the same level here. I’m hoping we can figure it out together along the way. Can I suggest one thing, though? I think it would make our lives easier.”

“Can I stop you?” he asked, glancing at me over his shoulder.

Did he mean I talked too much? “You’d have to try and see for yourself, but I’m pretty sure you can’t, so I’ll just go right ahead and share. You’re not very talkative, and that’s okay. If I tried, I could talk enough for both of us, but even though we won’t be in each other’s faces all the time, we’re gonna have to figure out a way to…communicate, I think. I don’t think I’d be too off the mark if I said you seem like a guy of very few words.”

He turned to look at me with an arched eyebrow, and I gave him a small smile and a shrug before continuing.

“It’s gonna be difficult to get used to each other. This whole situation is awkward and new. Plus, living with you is going to be…to be honest, a little weird for me, not to mention the fact that you’re gonna have to live with a stranger in your apartment, too. I’ll try to stay out of your way as much as I can. I’ll be spending most of my time here, anyway, so I think you’ll barely notice my presence. And we’re helping each other out, right? You get the property and the every-now-and-then fake wife, and I get two years in this amazing location. I promise, I’ll do my part.”

His eyes holding mine, he gave me a small nod.

“Despite what you saw tonight, I’m pretty easy to get along with,” I continued as he focused on dipping the brush into more paint. “You won’t even know I’m in your home. I’ll be wherever you need me to be when you need me, but other than that, I’ll stay out of your hair.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

I was having a really hard time keeping my eyes open. “What are you worried about then?”

Instead of explaining further, he shook his head and turned back to the almost finished wall. “This is almost done. If there is nothing else to do, we should leave.”

“There are a million things to do, but I don’t think I have the strength to lift my finger, let alone do anything. I’ll get my things from the back then we can go.”

“Your ring,” he said as I pushed myself up, his back to me. “You’re not wearing it.”

“I…” I touched my finger where the ring was supposed to be. “I left it at home because I’m working here. I didn’t want to lose it or damage it with all the work I need to do.”

“I’d prefer you to wear it from now on.”

He didn’t turn back and look at me, but I did notice the band I’d bought him was on his finger.

“Of course,” I mumbled quietly before going to the kitchen to get my things.

The number of times Jack Hawthorne smiled: none.

Chapter Four

Jack

The car ride to her apartment was silent. After she said a quiet hello to Raymond after entering the car, neither of us said a word to each other. I didn’t have anything else to say, and she didn’t look like she had any strength left in her to string two words together. That saved us from trying to make small talk, which was something I didn’t do willingly anyway.

Sooner than I expected, we came to a stop in front of her old apartment building in the East Village. I offered my help, but she politely declined. After promising she wouldn’t take long, she quickly—as quickly as she could drag herself away, that is—exited the car. Thinking she’d take her time to pack no matter what she said, as every single female I’d known to that day would have done, I focused on answering some emails while I waited in the car with Raymond.