Jock Royal (Jock Hard 4)

“What do you mean?”

“They started treating me different—my mom mostly. Dad does what Mom wants, so he was avoiding me. Pushing for the annulment. Pushing me to get a better job.”

“Is this why you’ve been pretending the conversation between us never happened?”

The one where I said I would move there for six months so we could figure things out.

“Yes. After our call that day…I eventually told my parents, and that’s when things went south, and honestly, Ashley…” Her head dips and she avoids my gaze. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. To give up everything and come to America when I was being foolish and immature. It would have been selfish. Everything you have is here.”

That’s where she’s wrong.

“Everything I had was in the States.”

She lifts her head to look at me. “What do you mean?”

“You. Georgia, you know I don’t give a fuck about the job and the money and everything else.”

My girlfriend lifts her chin. “There is no way in hell I was going to ask you to leave your job, your supportive family, your legacy, to come hold my hand while I had my head up my ass.” She pats me on the cheek. “But nice try.”

I let out a breath. “In any case, you’re here.”

“I am here.”

Which begs the question, “How? How are you here? I’m so glad, but…”

She’s broke.

“I’m not proud of it, but…I was able to get ahold of your mother and told her what’s been going on. And I told her about the conversation you and I had. Then the one I had with my own parents.” Georgia nervously brushes some errant hair behind her ears. “Then we talked a few days later, then again. Your mom is very caring and eager to…make this work for us in any way she can. So she flew me out here.” A blush forms on her cheeks. “I quit my job and I packed up my things and—I’m here until we work this out. For a month or for three, or six. However long it takes.”

“What about the annulment—doesn’t that have to be filed in the county where you were married?”

“Yes, but we can do all that online if that’s what we choose to do.”

“What are you saying? That you aren’t sure it’s what you want to do?”

“I’m saying…we rushed into this marriage because we were drunk, but maybe we don’t have to…rush out of it.”

I almost tackle my girlfriend-wife onto my brother’s bed, her back on the mattress, hair now fanning out all over the place. Our mouths meet, tongues mingling for the first time in a million weeks.

“You taste so good,” I moan, hand grazing her boob through her clothes.

Georgia laughs. “No I don’t—I taste like airplane and airport.”

“You can’t taste like airport. That’s not a thing.”

“Well I’m gross—hardly fresh and minty. Jack didn’t have any gum in his car when he picked me up.”

He wouldn’t.

My brother is neat as a pin and wouldn’t want a gum wrapper lying about.

There’s a knock on the door, followed by a cheeky, “Yoohoo, kids, your time is up!”

I groan. “By the end of today, we’re going to have found a new place to live. Come on.”

I stand, grab her hand, and lead her to the kitchen.

Georgia

Another month later…

My fingers race across the keyboard of my laptop and I pause to look out the window, seeing nothing but the other identical row houses on the street where we now live.

It’s an incredible place, not far from Jack’s—way above the pay grade of anything I’ll be able to afford in this lifetime, but this is what Ashley wanted and who am I to object?

I have an office. We have a dining room—it’s empty, but it’s a dining room just the same—a den with the TV, two bedrooms upstairs, and a bright and airy kitchen.

I’ve adjusted well and have begun speaking to my parents—we video-chat regularly, and they’re happier knowing I finally have more focus.

Right now, I’m working for the Dryden-Jones family, with Ashley’s cousin Emily in the marketing department. I was hesitant to take advantage of the nepotism, but no one seemed to mind and everyone seemed to expect it.

Until I find my dream job, I’m at least making some money and contributing to the household.

And as for Ashley and me?

Well.

For now, we’re just boyfriend-girlfriend, although legally we’re technically husband and wife.

The rings are put away, but every so often, I like to take mine out of the safe and wear it, the big, shiny stone making my heart skip a beat every time.

It’s so beautiful.

Lady Talbot—Ashley’s mother—on the other hand, loves referring to me as her daughter-in-law, introducing me to her friends and such, and although it’s not a lie, it still feels strange. And wrong.

I still feel too young.

Even so.

Ashley and I are still married.

Downstairs, I hear a door open and close. Stretch in my desk chair and smile when my boyfriend comes bounding up the stairs.