The marriage might be fake, but the ring is real.
As I watch her, she slips the ring off and puts it into the top drawer of her dresser.
Good. We’re on the same page about not wearing the rings.
Cassie barks when I knock on the door, and Skylar’s shoulders jump with surprise.
“Hey,” she says, when she turns. “What’s up?”
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
“I see my dog has moved in with you,” I joke. Cassie is lying in a pink polka-dot cat bed in the corner while Fuptagus is sprawled out on a fleece blanket on the bed. A flameless candle is lit on the nightstand. She’s hung curtains, and some cool framed vintage illustrations of cats wearing hats and sweaters on the walls. It’s nice to see the room with her touch on it. It doesn’t feel cold and empty anymore.
“I think she likes me,” she says. “She keeps following me in here. I hope that’s okay? I can close the door and keep her out if you want.”
“No, it’s cool. It’s good she has company. She loves attention.”
She pushes her long hair back, tucking it behind her ear before she looks up at me. “What’s up? I hope you’re not here for the honeymoon.” Her right eyebrow quirks up at me.
I can’t help but laugh. “Definitely not. I have something for you. It’s just something little.” I pull the one-dollar lottery scratch-off ticket out of my back pocket, and she takes it from me with her brows knitted together.
“Ooh. Thank you. I never win anything, though—”
“Me either. But it’s more of a symbolic thing. I’m going to give you one every day until you move out. You’re always saying how bad your luck is. You’re not gonna win every day, but I bet a few times a month, you’ll win at least a dollar. Think of it as a reminder there are always good days coming.”
“Jude...” Her eyes glimmer under the dim light. “That’s so sweet.”
Uh oh. It was meant to be fun. Not sweet.
I shrug. “Nah. It’s just something fun. And it’s only a buck.”
She nods, holding on to the ticket like it’s made out of gold. “Okay. But if I win big someday, we have to split it.”
“Alright. But only if it’s more than fifty bucks.”
“Deal,” she says. “Do I have to scratch it in front of you?”
I refrain from throwing back a sarcastic comment at that one. “You can do it whenever you want.”
“I promise I’ll tell you if I win.”
“I don’t think you’ll be getting rich off a scratch-off ticket.”
“If I do, I’m buying an RV.”
“An RV?” I repeat.
“Yeah, a mobile home.”
“I know what an RV is. It’s just a big jump from your ’vette.”
She flashes me a silly smile. “I basically want to live in it. Just drive across the country, going anywhere I want to. I can stay as long as I want, then leave. I don’t want to be stuck in one place.”
“I hope you have better luck with it than your ’vette, otherwise you’re gonna be stuck on the side of the road waiting for a tow truck.”
“Very funny,” she says. “I’d buy a nice one. With a good engine.”
I envy her young, free spirit. It won’t last, though. In a few years she’ll be bogged down like everyone else with a job, a house, and a family.
“When I was younger, I had the same dreams about jumping on my motorcycle and just riding wherever the road took me and living in cheap motels,” I tell her.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I also like to eat. Nobody was gonna pay me to cruise around through the mountains.”
She chews her lip thoughtfully. “That’s why I’m going to have a job that I can do from anywhere.”
Life should be so easy.
“So, are you okay?” I ask, leaning down to pet the dog. “After everything today?”
“Everything?”
I straighten and meet her inquiring gaze. “Yeah… getting legally married and all that.”
I don’t even know what I mean by all that.
“I’m okay with everything,” she replies. “Are you?”
“I’m good.”
She’s watching me again, in that indescribable way that she does, and I feel like I should get out of her bedroom before I end up doing something stupid—like kissing her or ruffling her hair again.
“Well, I’m gonna hit the hay,” I say. “Looks like I’ll be sleeping alone since everyone’s shacking up in here.”
“Aw, do you want to sleep in here, too?” she asks, then her eyes widen, and she quickly says, “I’m kidding.”
Laughing, I shake my head and edge toward the door. “On that note, I’m saying good night.”
Once I’m back in my room, though, I gotta admit, it sucks being alone when there’s a cuddle party happening down the hall.
Chapter 17
Skylar
“Do you feel different?” Megan asks. It’s Sunday, the day after the ceremony, and we’re sitting on my bed doing our nails with a gel kit she brought over.