Possessive Fake Husband

“We’ll see. You’re my wife now. I think you have certain duties.”

“Don’t be gross.” She heads off to talk to her dad and I watch her for another long moment. The photographer is already leaving, since I only paid him for a couple hours, and my mom’s waving as she heads down to her car.

Her brother comes over, shakes my hand, and heads off without a word.

I can tell he doesn’t approve of this, but whatever. It doesn’t matter.

Thomas walks over as Maggie’s brother heads off. The group is almost gone, and it’s just the three of us left. Maggie’s in a beautiful white dress and her father’s in one of his trademark baggy suits.

“Well, we went through with it,” he says.

“You don’t sound excited.” I cock my head at him. “This was your idea, you know.”

He flinches. “I know.”

“Well, now it’s on you two,” Maggie says. “I did my part.”

“You’re not finished yet,” I tell her. “We still have to convince my board that we’re in the middle of a blissful marriage.”

She sighs. “That’s not going to be easy.”

“Try, sweetie,” her dad says. “I’m going to go home and drink. Best way to celebrate a wedding.”

“And to forget fraud,” I add.

He glances at me and smiles. “You’re a lot like your father, you know that?”

“I know. Got my best qualities from him.”

“And hopefully none of his worst.”

“Oh, no. I got all my awful qualities from my mother.”

Thomas sighs. “Good luck,” he says to his daughter. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

“Don’t worry, Thomas. We’ll be stopping by later. I’m going to show her my place first then we’ll come get her stuff.”

“Works for me.” He waves and walks off, leaving me alone with my new bride. We stand there in silence together for a long moment before she turns to me.

“Well, I guess we should get going,” she says.

“I guess so.” I offer her my arm but she ignores it. We walk down the steps and around the corner to where the town car is waiting. We get in back and I tell the driver my address.

“Do you always have a driver?” she asks.

“Only for my wedding day,” I say.

“Good. I like taking the bus.”

I laugh. “Really?”

“Sure.”

“I drive everywhere.”

“God, parking is such a nightmare in this city.”

“It’s not bad when you have a garage.”

She frowns at me. “You have a garage?”

“Sure do.”

“Now I’m really interested in this place.”

“I bet you are.” The driver takes us north, through South Philly, across South Street, over toward Rittenhouse. My place is on a tiny dead-end block, one of those odd remnants from the original city. It has cobbles still, but the houses are beautiful renovated row homes with brick facades with large, modern windows, and garages just large enough for a small car. We get out, I tip the driver, and he heads off as we walk up my front stoop.

I unlock the door and turn to her. Before she can speak, I sweep her off her feet and carry her over the threshold.

“Warn me next time,” she says, her arms wrapped around my neck. “You scared the crap out of me.”

“I figure, we’re doing this all the wrong way, so we might as well try and keep some traditions alive.” I put her down and she straightens her dress out. “What do you think?”

She looks around my place and I follow her gaze. We’re standing in a large open living and dining room area with the original fireplace and all original hardwood flooring. It’s decorated in an understated scheme with blacks and whites and just a few splashes of color from some original oil paintings hanging on the walls. She walks through the living room and back toward the kitchen. I follow at a distance, my hands in my pockets.

It’s odd, looking at my place from her perspective, or trying to. I put a lot of pride in my home, and now she’s going to come live in it. I hadn’t really thought much about that until this moment, and I have to admit, I’m not exactly thrilled to have a woman in my space.

Even if she’s gorgeous.

She turns to me and smiles. “It’ll do.”

I roll my eyes. “Good. I’m glad. Come on, let’s go see your room.”

She follows me upstairs. I show her the office, the bathroom at the end of the hall, the two guest rooms. I take her to the third floor, show her my bedroom, and the stairs up to the roof deck.

“I have to see this,” she says, moving up and opening the roof door. We step out onto the deck in the gorgeous afternoon sunshine. She’s still wearing her wedding dress and I’m still in my best suit, and I have to admit, we make one hell of a couple. “Okay, now you just won me over.”