by Carian Cole
When he hands me a plate with lightly buttered toast sprinkled with cinnamon, I notice his ring is gone.
His wedding ring. Not his other rings.
That was fast.
As he eats his sandwich across the island from me, I’m still looking at his hands, even though the quick removal of the ring is bothering me. I can’t stop thinking about how he touched me earlier, the way he held my face still for his kiss. It felt so romantically possessive.
I need to stop thinking about it.
After I finish my toast, I open the oven and take out the small, foil-covered pan I hid there last night.
“I made these for you. Us,” I say putting the pan in front of him. “I thought we’d have them earlier, but you left…” Bolted, is more like it.
He wipes his mouth with his napkin and looks at me quizzically. I pull the foil off to reveal ten chocolate chip cookies decorated with icing to look like a groom’s tux, and a bride’s dress.
“Rebecca helped me make and decorate them yesterday. It’s part of my therapy, to bake something from scratch, and then eat it.” I take a breath, still unsure if I can get myself to eat one. “I haven’t tried one yet. I wanted to do it together.”
“Skylar…” I wasn’t expecting to hear the slight pitch of emotion in his deep voice. Or to see his eyes soften as he looks at the cookies. “I can’t believe you made wedding cookies for us.”
“They’re the same kind you like from the shop, just with icing. I hope that doesn’t ruin them for you.”
“You kiddin’? Icing makes them even better.” He takes one of the bride-decorated ones out of the pan. “I wish I’d known you’d done this, I would’ve stuck around.”
“You’d stick around for cookies, but not to hang out with me after our wedding?” I tease.
“Of course, for cookies. You know these are my weakness. But hanging out with my new fake wife would’ve been the icing on the cake.” He winks at me and takes a bite out of the bride cookie. “No pun intended.”
“How is it?” Fake wife asks. That’s me.
“Delicious. If you’re gonna eat one, you better do it before I eat them all.”
Gingerly, I take one of the groom cookies out and study it. Rebecca did everything step-by-step with me. Showing me all the fresh ingredients and explaining the purpose of each. Like Jude, she’s been patient and understanding with my recovery steps.
She also had a small hissy fit when I told her I was marrying Jude. She rattled off a list a mile long of reasons why it was a very bad idea. All of them valid. I totally understand her feelings, especially since she’s been through a nasty divorce.
“Do you want to talk it out?” Jude asks, taking his third cookie while I’m still staring at mine. “Is there something about it that’s worrying you? The color? What’s in it? A memory?”
I shake my head. “No. None of that. It’s just new.”
“Do you want to break it up into small pieces?” he suggests.
That works, sometimes. A cookie that’s four inches in diameter is less intimidating if it’s broken into bite-sized pieces.
“I’m going to try that,” I reply, grateful that he knows all my little steps. We talk a lot after each of my therapy sessions, and he truly listens. I think he understands the importance of it all because he was in drug rehab for a short time when he was younger.
I break the cookie in half, then in quarters, then take those pieces and break them into smaller pieces. Picking one up, I put it in my mouth, let it rest on my tongue for a moment, then slowly chew it. It’s a lot of different textures and flavors. The chocolate chips are sweet and soft amongst the crumbly parts. The icing slightly slippery. I don’t choke or feel sick.
He raises his eyebrow at me, waiting for me to react. Sometimes I like new foods, other times, I spit them out.
“It’s good,” I say after I swallow it. “I’m not obsessed like you are, but it’s not bad.”
He laughs. “Obsessed is a strong word.”
“Well, if it fits…” I smile.
I thought things would be weird after the kiss, but we’re right back to how we were before… like it never happened. It’s driving me crazy wondering if he felt anything kissing me. Some deep part of me hopes he did, because I did.
But what would that even mean?
It’s not like we’re going to fool around or date.
He watches me eat another piece with a crooked smile on his face. “I know what you’re thinking about,” he says.
“Oh, really? What am I thinking about?” I challenge, knowing he has no idea what’s going through my mind.
He pins me with his eyes and cocks his head to the side. “The kiss.”
My breath hitches. Keeping my gaze on his, I take a sip of water, wondering how he can tell.
“What makes you think that?” I throw back casually.
“Am I wrong?”
“Just answer.”
Reaching back, he pulls the black rubber band from his hair, and shakes his head. His long hair whips around his face like something out of a rock music video.
“Because I was thinking about it, too.”
“And?” I prod.
“And I shoulda let you wear the sneakers,” he says, picking up our plates and taking them over to the sink.
“See?” I play into the teasing banter. “I put on the adult shoes and I ended up falling into your face.”
He turns around and shoots me a grin. “Don’t worry, babe. You ain’t the first.”
Damn him.
“I’m sure I’m not,” I say playfully as I cover the last two cookies with foil. “But, I am the first wife to.”
“You got a point.”
“I’ll make a note to not wear heels around you anymore.”
He nods. “Good. I don’t want any more accidental kisses.”
“Ditto.”
We stare at each other, the space between us charged with more chemistry than a science lab. His jaw muscle is twitching. My heart is fluttering.
So this is how it’s going to be. We’re going to joke our way out of it.
“The cookies were sweet. Thanks,” he says, reaching his hand out to me.
My breath catches when I realize he’s going to touch my cheek again… Pull my face into his for another kiss.
I close my eyes, waiting for it.
He ruffles my hair. “G’nite, Sparkles. Happy wedding day.”
When I open my eyes, he’s gone.
Chapter 16
Jude
Happy wedding day?
Did I really just say that shit—after I ruffled her hair?
Dude, you just married her. She’s not five years old.
Fuck me. Today went all kinds of sideways.
You couldn’t pay me to kiss an eighteen-year-old girl. I’m not the type to lust after younger women.
Weddings are poison.
Marriage is a curse.
I’ve heard it before, and this proves it. Not twenty-four hours in, and we’re doing things we shouldn’t be doing.
But Skylar is like a magnet. All night, I felt pulled to come back home to be with her. I felt it when I kissed her, and I feel it now.
Fuck, I’ve felt it since the first time I saw her in the parking lot. I should’ve run then, instead of allowing myself to get closer and closer. Now, I’m legally married to her, and she’s living in my house. I can’t escape.
And let’s not forget—I kissed her. Twice. After I promised her—and myself—that I’d never, ever, cross that line.
But nope. My dumb ass put my lips right on hers.
Never again.
I’ve never felt sparks from kissing a chick before, but fuck, I felt it with her and it’s got me rattled.
A few minutes ago, I heard her running the water in the bathroom down the hall, and now I can hear Dark Side of the Moon drifting from her room. I’m worried. I didn’t miss all the signs earlier in the kitchen. How she peeked up at me with her big, sparkling eyes
. The way she kept glancing at my ring finger. The bride and groom cookies. Which were fuckin’ amazing, by the way.
She’s got a crush on me. And that’s fine, and cute, and not totally unreciprocated. But innocent feelings can turn into heartbreak. That’s the last thing we—she—needs. Her therapy is going great, and I’m not about to let anything, especially me, set her back.
I have a little gift for her, which I forgot to give her earlier because she distracted me with cookies. I kick off my boots and walk down the hall to her room. The door is open a few inches, the bedside lamp casting a dim, amber light. As I raise my hand to knock, I see her standing in front of her dresser, her back to me. She’s staring at the wedding band on her finger, turning her hand so the gems glint under the light.
My heart hiccups.
The ring is the first piece of jewelry I’ve ever given a woman. I went to four jewelry stores trying to find one that looked like what I knew she wanted. Turns out, a rose-gold band with little almond-shaped diamonds isn’t easy to find, or cheap.
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.
“Why would I feel different?”
“Because you’re married.”
I roll my eyes. “It doesn’t count. Nothing is different.”
It is, though. I don’t know how to explain it. Suddenly, I feel a bond with Jude. Like some invisible thread has stitched us together.
“This is different,” she says. “I can finally come over to your house to hang out with you.”
“True. I’m happy about that.”
“Me too. Who woulda thought you’d be living in a nice house, married to a hot guy? This is your year. I think all the good things are finally happening to you.”
I hope she’s right.
“Jude and I are roommates, Meg. Stop saying married. And don’t tell anyone at school. Not even Erik.”
“I promised you I wouldn’t. Don’t worry.”
I want to believe her, but Megan likes to talk, and I’m afraid she’s going to slip up and tell someone, or everyone, about my situation. Those snotty bitches will never shut up about it if they find out.
“How are things going with Erik?” I ask.
It’s cute how mentioning his name puts a big smile on her face.
“He’s so sweet, Sky. I swear, I can’t get enough of him. I almost didn’t come over today because I wanted to hang out with him.”
“Gee, thanks,” I say, lining up the nail polish bottles.
“I didn’t mean it like that. You know I love being with you. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m just saying I really like being with him. He makes me laugh. He’s not a dick, ya know? He really likes me. He takes me to dinner. He cares about me. He’s a real boyfriend, not like those other idiots I dated where we just randomly hung out.”
“I thought you said you just wanted something fun? Remember you said you didn’t want him falling for you?”
“I did say that, didn’t I?” She
smiles slyly. “I guess I changed my mind.”
“Meg… are you falling in love with him?”
Her cheeks turn pink, and it’s adorable. “I think I might be.”
“Oh my God,” I say happily. “Have you said it? Has he?”
She shakes her head. “Not yet, but I’m pretty sure we’re both feeling it.”
“That’s awesome. Last year you thought he was a nerd and now look.”
“Right? Life is so bizarre.”
Nodding, I slide my hand under the UV light, hoping it’s safe. I’m a little leery of things Megan buys off the internet.
“We have to find you someone so we can double-date. Remember when we were little, we always wanted to grow up and double-date? Erik and I were talking about his friend Carson. He’s a little odd, but he might be fun for you.”
I crinkle my nose and shudder inside. “I’m not going to date someone named Carson.”
“Why not? He’s cute… in a strange way.”
Great. Sounds like a winner.
“Because Carson is a last name,” I reply. “It’s not even a name, it’s two things stuck together. Car and son.”
She gives me a frustrated frown. “It’s just his name, Skylar.”
“I don’t like it.”
Letting out a sigh, she scrapes a file across her nail. “You’re so weird. You focus on the strangest things.”
“And your point?” I say, grinning.
“It’s cute, but you’re limiting your options. You can’t be so picky about food and men. You’ll be hungry and single forever.”
“I’m not picky about food, Meg,” I say defensively. “Men, yes. But not food. It’s different.”
Her shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I know you can’t help the food thing. You’re getting better, though. I’m so proud of you for eating that cookie.”
Earlier we ate the last two wedding cookies together before we came upstairs with the nail apparatus.
“I like my therapist. She’s like talking to a friend instead of a doctor. I’ve only seen her a few times, but I already think she’s helping me. We talk about everything, not just my eating disorder.”