Marriage of Unconvenience

“Slow down, I don’t want you to choke,” Cara said.

“I’m hungry,” I said, my voice muffled through a mouthful of food.

“You look like a chipmunk right now,” she said, holding a paper towel out to me. I knew instinctively that I had sauce all over my face. Didn’t matter. Food was more important than looking cute.

“Thank you,” I said, swallowing and then gulping down some water.

“You’re going to get a stomach ache. Seriously, slow down.” I made a sound of protest, but I knew she was right. I always regretted eating this fast, but the regrets never seemed to stop me from doing it again. Food was just so good.

“Don’t lecture me on my eating choices,” I said, cutting smaller bites and slowing down.

“I’m your wife, I’m supposed to nag you about things like that. I read it in my new book.” She got up from the table and dashed to her bedroom, coming back with a paperback. It was bright and cheerful and had a smiling woman on the front.

“You did not pay money for this,” I said, wrinkling my nose at the title and then flipping through it. The book was a reprint of some “keep your husband happy” book from the 1950s. I guess it did go along with the whole theme, so there was that.

“I was going to go through and change all the references from ‘husband’ and ‘man’ to ‘wife’ and ‘woman,’ but it would have been too much work.” She plucked the book from me and stroked the cover.

“Wow, that is... something else. The woman on the cover is so dead behind the eyes.” I looked at her again and shuddered. Cara set the book down.

“I just read it for fun. I’m not sure yet what kind of wife I’m going to be.” I wasn’t either. I had only known that I wanted to be a real wife instead of a fake one for less than four days. Still adjusting.

“Well, I’ll tell you what, I’m not going to be sitting here waiting for you to come home and have your slippers ready and dinner on the table and be wearing pearls and shit.” Cara made a tutting noise, as if she was disappointed.

“If I can’t have that, I don’t know how this is going to work out,” she said.

“Damn. We had a good run. I guess it’s over.” I went to get up from the table, but Cara snagged my arm.

“No, don’t leave me!” She yanked until I was falling into her lap.

“This is an interesting development,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “Was this your plan all along?” She gave me a sly grin.

“Maybe, maybe not. Can I have a kiss?” I granted her one sweet, soft kiss when all I wanted was something a little harder, a little rougher. A little more demanding. Sweet kisses were great, but I was in the mood for something a little different right now. If I shifted my legs, I could so easily straddle her lap.

“Don’t think the thoughts you’re thinking,” Cara said, tapping me on the arm.

“What thoughts?” I asked, feigning innocence.

“You know which ones. The dirty ones.” I wiggled a little on her lap and she let out a tortured sound.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Uh, because I can?” I said, but I got up so I didn’t push things further. That heat was back and if she didn’t want me to go for it, I was going to have to go sit in my seat and finish the rest of my dinner.

Cara took a few deep breaths and smoothed her dress, as if she was trying to settle herself down.

“This hasn’t been easy, Care. How much longer are we going to do this staying away from each other thing? Because I might die.”

“You’re not going to die and neither am I. We just need to... give each other space. And realize that we are grown adults and are not sex fiends.” I pouted.

“But I want to be a sex fiend. That sounds awesome. Wouldn’t that be awesome?” She groaned again.

“Stop talking about sex, please.” I was about to say something else, but my phone buzzed with a text. I pulled it up and it was a picture with Ansel and his totally goth girlfriend. Yes, they had declared their intentions. Cara was also on her phone because Ansel had sent the picture through our ongoing group text chat.