“What did I say? I don’t understand why you’re crying.”
“Seriously?” she asked, anger coursing through her voice before she buried her head into the pillow again.
“Seriously,” I said. “I don’t get it. We had a great night tonight, and then you were fine on the way back home…”
“I wasn’t fine. I was drowning out my thoughts.”
“Oh.” I sat down gingerly on the edge of the couch. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I knew what I wanted to do, which was curl her up in my arms and soothe her. But I didn’t think that would fly for some reason. Still, it hurt to see her in pain. “What’s wrong?” I asked meekly.
She sat up, wiping her face with the arm of the sweatshirt she had thrown on. It was one I hadn’t recognized from before, and I assumed it was one she must have had back at home. Then it hit me. It was one of mine from years back, one I never wore but stayed in my closet.
“I just feel so guilty,” she said. “I am not a liar. It’s not who I am. I value the truth. And here I am lying to that sweet woman. Your mother deserves a real daughter-in-law that you love and care about. I hate lying.”
“What?” I asked, confused. This was all so out of left field. If anything, I thought she was the one who was most in on the idea of the pretend marriage. My stomach was tying up in knots as she spoke.
“I hate lying, Matt,” she said, almost accusatorially. “At first I did it out of spite. My mother and father are so awful, and I didn’t think it could hurt anyone. I was only thinking about them and how awful they are. I would do anything to get out of their grasp, out of their control.
“But your mother is an amazing woman. Your brothers are amazing men, and their wives… all of them, these incredible people. They have welcomed me without a second thought. Our story is so sketchy, and yet they didn’t even blink. They just opened their arms and accepted me. Loved me. My cousin, my own cousin, the only person in my family who gives a damn about me, and I’m lying to her, too. And hurting this family who have been nothing but giving and loving and kind.”
I was floored by her outburst and struggled to come up with something to say. Words failed me, and eventually I just had to say something or else the silence would become unbearable.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I said. “But you haven’t hurt anyone. You were magnificent tonight. No one knows.”
I searched her eyes and knew instantly it was the wrong thing to say. She was incredibly upset, and as she threw the pillow back down onto the couch and stood up, I figured whatever came next wasn’t going to be pleasant. She looked like she was going to say something, maybe launch into another rant of some kind or tell me this wasn’t working anymore and threaten to leave.
Instead, she simply walked past me, heading toward her room. She opened the door and paused, only for a moment. Then she spoke, and her voice was like daggers.
“Good night.”
With that she went inside and shut the door behind her, and I heard the lock latch. She was gone, and I had a feeling she wasn’t coming back all night. It was still a little early in the evening, and I had planned on us cuddling up on the couch together and watching a show or her fiddling around on her laptop, keeping up with the reporters she admired so much. Instead, she was gone, locked away in the only room of the apartment I wasn’t allowed inside.
I went into the kitchen and contemplated making a pot of coffee. Maybe she would come out later and feel better. But I knew it wasn’t true. As I stood there, debating what to do next, I saw the light under her door flip off. She had gone to bed.
Without me.
28
Chloe
A few days after dinner with Matt’s family, I was still in the spare room. I hadn’t returned to sleeping in what I had gone back to thinking of as his bedroom, and I didn’t know if I ever would. My heart ached just thinking about him in there.
I lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as I thought about how I’d gotten here. All the different decisions I’d made and the paths I’d taken through life coursed through my mind. There were so many of them that I knew I should have done differently, and now I was positive this was one of them.
Sitting there in Hannah’s house with the Anderson family, watching them laugh and enjoy each other so much, hit me right in the gut. Not because they weren’t including me or because they were trying to keep me on the outside. Instead, it was because they weren’t. They were doing everything they could to include me and make me know I was one of them.
Only, I wasn’t. I deeply regretted this impulsive decision and where it had gotten me. Sitting there at that dinner, I realized just how far I’d gone and how much it had impacted so many people. I’d lied to every one of them, and I felt like I was lying to Matt every time I looked at him, too.
I was lying to him every time I looked at him because I knew I was falling in love with him.
It was something that had been tickling the corners of my mind and the edges of my thoughts for a while. It occurred to me only after the full meaning of it struck me at dinner that it was that growing love that created the weird feelings in me after our hasty wedding. I was attracted to Matt, obviously. I enjoyed being around him. He was smart and funny when someone gave him the chance, and we always had fun together.
But I had learned he was also sweet and caring, compassionate and courteous. He thought about others in the smallest ways that built up to the biggest meaning. It was what I didn’t want, what I knew I shouldn’t do, but I couldn’t deny it anymore. I was falling fully and completely in love with him.
And that was why I needed to be away from him as much as I could. This arrangement wasn’t going to work as long as I was feeling that way. We’d agreed from the beginning our marriage was on paper and on paper only. Like I said to him, it was to spite my family and prove to them they didn’t have the control over me they thought they did when I was in Los Angeles.
That meant I had to distance myself. In order to maintain this relationship at all, I had to remind myself firmly and unquestionably that there was actually no relationship at all. It was an agreement, an arrangement. One that Matt seemed to have no trouble maintaining at all. In fact, since that night when I went to the spare room, he hadn’t reached out to me at all.
In the last few days, I had barely spoken to him, exchanging words only when I absolutely had to at home, and if we were at work. He hadn’t tried to talk to me or to get me to open up. He hadn’t come to the spare room to find out what I was going through or as if I was alright. It was almost as if he was relieved that we’d settled into this pattern. And if not relieved, he just simply didn’t care.
That hurt me even more as it further accentuated my feelings for him and reiterated the narrative that it really was fake for him. I should have been more careful. I should have protected myself more and not let myself get too comfortable and happy.
I looked over at my phone and saw it was time to get ready for work. Matt had already left a little while before. He had taken to getting to the bar even earlier to make sure things were going well. I knew he was looking for ways he was going to be able to grow and improve the bar even more. They had only just opened, and already he was angling for more visibility, bigger crowds, and greater success.
That was the whole point of opening the second location, I realized, but there was a part of me that thought he might have started a little competition in his mind. He wanted to prove the Portland location of the Hollow didn’t have to be looked at as second-rate or a copy of the original. It could be its own thing and draw just as much excitement, enthusiasm, and loyalty from those who filled it every week.
I got ready and headed in. There were already people waiting to be seated, and I threw myself into work to get my mind off everything else. It wasn’t easy being there with him and having to keep on pretending for everybody around us. At least at home, I could go into the spare bedroom and we didn’t have to interact. There was no one there to analyz
e how we were acting toward each other or to expect anything from us.
Here at the bar, everyone still saw the newlyweds. They grinned and giggled when they saw us, and some were still trickling in, offering congratulations. Before this week, Matt and I would amuse them by standing close together, our arms around each other as we listened and smiled. Sometimes we would wait until it looked like we thought we were alone and pretend to sneak a kiss, knowing people were watching.
It all worked out perfectly, at least for what we wanted to achieve then. Now it was much harder to keep up that charade. It was harder to look happy and carefree and to let people admire us. As much as I thought I would love the attention of being a newlywed when I thought about it on my wedding day, now I just wanted it all to melt away.
That wasn’t going to happen. Instead, I ended up crossing paths with Matt all night. He would smile at me or offer to help, but I got away from him as fast as I could before the tears would start up. I couldn’t stand this. But all too soon, it got worse.
I had just gone into the kitchen to grab an order of food to bring out to a table and realized I’d forgotten to grab a bottle of ketchup to bring with it. One of the many inadvertent lessons I’d learned during my time working at the bar was that there was a very slim window of perfection for French fries. It was that glorious time when they were fresh, golden, crispy, and hot enough that the oil was still sizzling just a little on the surface.
It was achingly specific, but also one of those little joys in life that shouldn’t be taken for granted. I figured if I was going to be the one to bring food to someone, I was going to pride myself in them never missing their French fry perfection window because they had to wait for a bottle of ketchup.
I realized my mistake as I was heading for the table. Matt had just walked past, and I turned around to ask him to grab one for me. Just as I did, a woman at one of the tables reached up and ran her hand down his side to get his attention. Matt turned to her, and the woman smiled, gesturing for him to come closer so she could say something to him.
The bar was busy, so it was fairly loud, but there was no need for that close of proximity or that obvious of flirting. I waited for Matt to step back or to let her know he was taken, but he didn’t. Instead, he seemed to be enjoying the attention. That was all I could take.
I brought the food over to the table and set it down as pleasantly as I could. I snatched a bottle of ketchup from a recently vacated table nearby and rushed to find Hannah.
“I need to leave early,” I said, untying my apron as I walked past her toward the back of the bar.
“Wait, what?” she asked, following after me.
“I’m sorry. I know I’m leaving you in the lurch, but I can’t be here right now. I’m really not in a good place.”
“What’s wrong?”
We were in the back room, just the two of us, and she was looking at me with sincerity and concern in her eyes. I so badly wanted to just open up and tell her everything. I wanted to tell her the truth and let everything fall where it may. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wasn’t sure how she would take it, and I couldn’t stand the thought of adding hurting her to everything I was going through already.
Right at that moment, the door opened and Matt came in. He was laughing and barely even looked my way as he reached for a freshly laundered stack of towels for behind the bar. My head dropped, and I let out a sigh.
“Is it Matt?” Hannah asked. “Are you two having issues?”
I figured that was the closest thing to telling her the truth I would get to and nodded.
“Yes. But I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to hear that we rushed things right now.”
Hannah shook her head, reaching out to run her hands down my arms comfortingly.
“I wasn’t going to say anything like that. Marriage can be really hard. It isn’t just romance and sunny days and cuddles. It’s so much more than that. It takes hard work to keep marriages going. It doesn’t matter if you’ve been married five minutes or five decades, you still have to put work into it. And there’s going to be issues from time to time. No matter what. And no matter who you’re talking about. You shouldn’t beat yourself up over it,” she said.
“It’s really hard not to,” I said, knowing I meant it but for a reason she didn’t understand.
“I know. But listen to me. You’re going to get through this. You and Matt are going to figure out whatever it is you’re going through and make it out the other side stronger and happier than ever. I know it because the two of you are so great together,” she said. “And don’t worry about tonight. We can handle it. You go home, take some time for yourself, and know everything is going to work out just fine.”
“Thank you.”
She gathered me into a tight hug. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I said, squeezing her back.
Her talk should have made me feel better, and if it was normal circumstances we were dealing with, it probably would have. But these weren’t normal circumstances, and Matt and I couldn’t just work it out. I went home feeling even more upset than I was before talking to her.
If only the two of us being great together really was true.
If only I could believe everything was going to work out between us.
29
Matt
Both of us had the day off together, and I’d decided I was going to get to the bottom of what was going on with Chloe. Neither of us had made any plans, and since she still didn’t know too many people aside from those who worked at the bar with us, I was pretty sure she was planning on hanging out at home all day. Since that meant she would have to come out from her room for bathroom breaks and to eat, I figured I’d get a couple of chances to break the icy tension between us every time we were home.
I woke up early, with a lot of optimism. If I could get her to tell me what was really going on with her, we might be able to move forward. Whatever forward meant. Still, a long conversation would probably best be done with some food in the stomach, so I proceeded to make a big breakfast. That way I could feed her and ease into any talk about what was going on with a full stomach and some coffee in her system.
No sooner had I brewed the coffee than her door opened. She poked her head out and looked around, seeing me in the kitchen cooking, and I nodded to her.
“Coffee, if you want some,” I said. “Making us breakfast, too.”
She nodded somewhat timidly and made her way to the kitchen, not saying anything. She was wearing a bathrobe over her pajamas, and I had to stop myself from thinking how cute she was in the big fluffy robe. Now was not the time for that.
“Thanks,” she muttered.
“You’re welcome,” I said, somewhat cheerfully, trying to bring her mood up by sheer force. “Blueberry pancakes. Ready to plate if you’ll take a seat.”
She nodded again, holding her mug close to her lips and blowing on it to cool it down before taking a sip. Then she sat at the table, and I brought her a plate and a serving dish with a stack of blueberry pancakes, bacon, and eggs. I made her plate for her and then sat down with my own plate, stacking the pancakes high.
We ate in mostly silence as I didn’t want to push the issue, but after a few minutes, I saw that she was more awake, and I felt like my time was at hand.
“So, do you want to tell me what’s been going on?” I asked, stabbing some eggs with my fork.
“Not particularly,” she said.
“Please. I can’t stand all this tension between us. I want you to be happy.”
“Do you?” she asked, cutting her eyes at me.
“Of course I do.”
“But not if it means cutting into your happiness,” she said, scooping up the last of her pancakes.
“What are you talking about?”
“That girl,” she said, suddenly exploding. “The one at the bar. I saw you bring her food out, and I saw you flirting with her. She was laughing and talking like you were just the funnies
t guy in the world, touching you whenever you could, and you loved it. I saw you.”
It took a moment before I realized who she was talking about. When I did, it hit me like a brick.
“Oh, you mean the blonde girl at table nine,” I mumbled.
“Yes, the blonde girl at table nine,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes again. “You seemed so happy.”
“Happy? I was flattered.”
“Even better,” she scoffed.
“No, you’ve got it all wrong,” I said. “It’s not like that at all.”
“Then how is it? Is she someone to date on the side?” Chloe asked.
“As a matter of fact, no. You were right, she did flirt with me,” I said, and Chloe rolled her eyes. “But I told her I was married. She then asked if I had any single siblings, and that’s when I laughed. I told her that I was the last one of my siblings to marry and that I was very happy with my wife.”
The eyes that held so much anger just moments ago began to soften, and her bottom lip quivered.
“Really?” she half-whispered.
“Really. Then she said congratulations, and I said thank you. I told her that it made me happy she said that because it never got old. And it hasn’t, because…” I took a beat, fighting the words that were coming out and losing. There was no use. I had to lay it on the line and let the chips fall where they may. “Because, damn it Chloe, I’m in love with you. I’ve been fighting it from the second you stepped foot in this apartment, and every day it’s gotten harder and harder. I love you, Chloe. I know it screws up the plan. I know it’s against our rules. But I love you. And you need to know that.”
There was a moment of silence as she seemed to run through a gambit of emotions. I understood that, since I was, too.
“I love you, too,” she choked out. The words hit me like a gut punch.
“Really?” She nodded, a smile crossing her lips while tears fell from her bright blue eyes. “For real?” I asked again.
The Marriage Contract Page 16