When the physician informed my father that I couldn’t have children, I became a burden instead of a boon overnight. The match he’d been planning for me, the one that would have given him rich in-laws to lighten his load, was no longer possible. He could not bear the sight of his failure, and so his son was made responsible for me as well as his own family. He brought me with him to America, where his son would eventually move me in with your brothers and you.
I was cared for, and caring for you was a gift, but it was clear I was viewed as the extra baggage of three generations of men. Unable to choose my own path, even though I had two good legs to stand on. Despite their affection, I understood that I would have been separated from everything I knew and loved if I’d chafed against my role. So I accepted.
I managed a few minor rebellions, as you know. I read every book my brother didn’t approve of. I snuck beedi cigars in my room late at night on holidays. I knew they were bad for me, but I’m dead now, so don’t waste time judging me for it.
You remember those little embroidered coin purses and handbags I used to make for you? I started selling them years ago to a shop run by sympathetic women who helped me open an account that my brother didn’t know about. My “hobby” was a bestselling item for years. And every penny has been saved for you, though that wasn’t my plan when I started. It was only after the accident, which everyone else walked away from without a scratch, that I knew who it had to belong to.
Be smarter than I was. Take this money and use it to make more. Build yourself a tower with it, one you can never be taken from without your consent. My nephew is, in some ways, as old fashioned as my father. And your mother is blinded by your brothers, as mothers often are.
For me, you are the best of them. You will find a way to have true independence and keep your family intact. And when the time arrives, you should choose your own husband or refuse to marry at all. If, however, you find a love match and have a daughter of your own, start a fund for her in my name to remember me.
And moisturize. I should have started with that, I think. It’s the only advice I always wished someone had given me when I was your age.
I made you smile again. I can’t see it, but I can feel it. I hope you smile each time you think of me.
I followed her advice as if it were sacred scripture. I used the inheritance to put myself through school and invest in Joey’s idea to save the world through excellence in babysitting.
And yes, I’m militant about moisturizing.
My parents let me get away with my own minor rebellions because of my “condition.” My mother in particular was never able to completely get over the loss.
But before the incident with Arush, I didn’t let my frustration with that come between us. Because I’d made a promise to my aunt to find a way to keep both my independence and my family, I came to dinner every week and endured the same rituals over and over again. The encouraging laughter at Niraj’s attempts at humor, the hushed admiration every time Arush had something to say. The movie that occasionally followed the meal, where someone onscreen would inevitably start dancing in the middle of a perfectly decent plotline, and my mother would look at me like she wanted to cry.
I once joked about suing Bollywood for pain and suffering.
Joey thought I should have told them about my part in the business sooner, instead of quietly paying off their mortgage interest or slipping money into their savings accounts over the years. He believed that would snap them out of the pity party they regularly held in my honor. But I had a feeling that finding out I’d made a fortune from Aunt Tanisha’s secret inheritance wouldn’t go over well.
I’ve never been more disappointed to be right.
I sneak another peek at Emerson and my face heats. Yep. He’s still there. Still gorgeous, with muscles for days and the softest-looking lips I’ve ever seen on a man…
Which is, you know, not the reason I married him.
Whatever you need to tell yourself.
I still can’t believe he said yes.
Getting married to avoid getting married might seem like the start of a bad joke, but it really does matter that this was my idea. My choice instead of my brother’s. Going through with this is the most impulsive thing I’ve ever done—apart from showing up at Joey’s place after running away from home. But even that was predictable. Joey has always been my safe place.
This feeling for Emerson? This is…new.
“You look warm. Do you need me to turn the heat down?”
Yes. And can you please make your voice stop doing that thing that makes the back of my thighs tingle? “Not unless you’re uncomfortable.”
“I’ll turn it down.”
I swallow the dreamy sigh with a feeling of horror, because turning down the heat is not slaying a dragon and I need to stop melting every time he asks me a simple question or opens a door.
This isn’t like me at all.
I tried initially, but I can’t even chalk up my behavior around him to his family name, even though I’d been following the gossip on the Waynes for a while now.
Joey and his brother JD loved telling me stories about the two large families—the Finns and the Waynes—and their highly unusual adventures in coupling. At this point, I could probably write a book about them, but it would have to be X-rated and I’d never have the nerve to publish it.
I imagined the Finns as passionate, Irish paragons. The slightly rowdy, disproportionately gay hometown heroes that JD was strangely obsessed with until he met his husband.
And then there were the Waynes. Another large family. More traditionally nuclear with a nearly even mix of handsome black men and strong, brilliant women, all of them named after famous authors. Even before I moved to town, it was this family I was more interested in. Especially after I heard about the Bronte Wayne secret-marriage subplot.
As I’ve said, I’m something of a reality show junkie, so I ate up every bit of it. By the time I started meeting them in person, it felt like I’d known them forever. Conversely, they had absolutely no idea who the weird little Indian chick from the West Coast was and it made things slightly uncomfortable during our introductions.
“You didn’t tell me how Joey handled the news,” he says into the silence.
“I know you were talking to him about it when we got there. He looked worried.”
Breathe, Tani. Talking is also a plus.
“He’s in shock. I’ve never kept anything from him for this long. And I think we accidentally stole his thunder, because I’m pretty sure someone proposed last night or this morning. I’m still not clear on whether it was him or Elliot.”
He offers me a small smile that makes my stomach flutter. “Busy day. My brother-in-law will be happy, at least. I think he’d move a few more members of his family in this direction if he could.”
“JD might have something to say about that.” Especially if Manwich and Dickie show up, I think, biting my lip to conceal my grin.
“I was wondering. Spin the Bottle. Is Royal the only one I have to worry about?”
“What?” I laugh, burying my face in my hands. “I can’t believe I told you that.”
“I’ve heard honesty is key in a good marriage. We’re here.”
I look up as we pull into his driveway. Our driveway, I remind myself. This will be my home for at least a year, maybe longer.
There’s a bedroom inside that he says we’ll be sharing.
Is this really happening?
“I’m sure it isn’t what you’re used to, but it’s been a good home for us. When did you say the truck would be arriving?”
The moving truck. My boxes. “Today, I think. I signed up for a phone notification.”
“That’s fast.”
His expression is dubious and very masculine. I’m invading the inner sanctum. His mancave. Fortunately for him, I left most of my furniture behind when I sold my old house. But I didn’t come emptyhanded. I’m hoping it won’t cause a problem. “It won’t be that bad, I
promise. I only have one pink carpet and a few hundred doilies.”
I take in his horrified expression and then he’s exiting the car and circling around to open my door as I laugh.
“Second thoughts?” I ask, tongue in cheek as he helps me out of the passenger seat.
“Hardly.”
The cool wind makes me rub my arms for warmth and he pulls me closer.
“There’s a cold snap coming in.” he says unnecessarily. “We’ll have snow soon now.”
I’m looking forward to it. I wonder if the boys will teach me how to make a snowman. “Emerson, were they okay? Barry and Lang? You said you had another talk with them last night.”
“They weren’t that happy they couldn’t be here for your first night in the house, but they understood.” He squeezes my arm gently. “They’re good kids and they’re fond of you. I don’t think we’ll have any problems adapting.”
They really are good kids. Both are incredibly smart, and polite in a way that tells me their father is a stickler when it comes to manners. Langston is protective of his younger brother, and Barry gives the tightest hugs I’ve ever experienced.
I really want them to like me. I wouldn’t mind if their father did too.
You want them to love you.
“This is going to work out,” I promise, stopping on the walk to look up into his eyes. “They aren’t going anywhere if I have anything to say about it.”
For a moment it looks like he’s going to kiss me again, then my traitorous body shivers and he takes my arm instead. “Let’s get you inside, Mrs. Wayne. I bought some of that tea you like. It should be just the thing to warm us up.”
I know something else that could warm me up.
Where did that thought come from? He’s right, we need to take our time. I have insecurities to get a handle on, and he’s a big man. A big, beautiful man. And while I am hoping for a kiss goodnight, I’m also thinking about him seeing me in my nightshirt. In bed.
How will he react when I need to take off my prosthesis?
An embarrassingly loud squeak of surprise escapes my lips when he lifts me up into his arms. He’s already unlocked and opened the front door while I was busy worrying.
“You don’t have to do this, Emerson. You know I don’t need it.”
“Indulge me. I’ve always wanted to do this part right.”
I look into his eyes and tighten my arms around him. “Okay then.”
As he carries me over the threshold and into my new life, I might have melted. My only hope is that he didn’t hear the dreamy sigh that followed, but how am I supposed to resist something like that?
He’s not playing fair.
Chapter Four
Emerson
I have a new wife.
I pick up my dumbbells and start another set. It’s important for me to repeat that to myself as often as possible. Not that I can forget the woman whose things are all over my living room waiting to be organized. Whose sweet scent is already invading every room in my four-bedroom house.
The house, by the way, that is now boasting a new loveseat, several lamps and a dozen colorful throw pillows. Not to mention the dishes, artwork and odds and ends that all scream “Woman!” but have never been a part of my decorating scheme until now.
No pink rugs or doilies, but it’s still going to take some getting used to. I hope the boys don’t make too much of a fuss when they see all the changes tomorrow. But they’re young and more adaptable than I am.
At least she hasn’t touched this garage. Not that I could fit much more in here. It’s already crowded with my weights, holiday decorations, gardening equipment and a laundry room. But if anyone could find a way to put their unique, irresistible mark on it, it’s probably Tanisha.
This is going to take some getting used to.
It’s nowhere near as difficult as sleeping beside her without touching has been. Last night was the closest to torture I’ve ever come. If I hadn’t caught her vulnerable expression after she took off her prosthesis, instantly covering herself before I could see her, I might have made a move.
I have to be smart about this. As far as she’s concerned, this is simply part of the arrangement. She doesn’t know I already want more. She needs to get to know me better first. Trust me with her doubts and fears. With her body.
I’ve never been that good at slow seductions, but desperate times…
I grunt as I pick up a heavier pair of weights. This has always been my way to relieve stress. I spend more time curved over a desk than I’d like, dealing with financial discrepancies. I need a way to keep myself in shape, and this has always done the trick. Now it’s helping with a different type of stress.
This stress is Tanisha induced and purely physical in nature.
If it were a normal itch that needed to be scratched, it wouldn’t be this difficult to resist her. I could have put a lid on it to save for later. I wouldn’t have gotten hard when she bent over to fill the dishwasher after I made breakfast. Wouldn’t have been forced to swallow a moan when her insanely oversized nightshirt slipped over her shoulder and revealed her bare skin.
I wouldn’t be imagining the things I’ve been imagining nonstop since I carried her over the threshold and into my house. There is nothing romantic, nothing skilled about my fantasies when it comes to my new bride. It’s as if her innocence is tempting me to defile it in the dirtiest ways I can dream up. And I can dream up a hell of a lot.
I tug off my shirt and wipe the sweat off my face before tossing it on the mat beside me. Think about something else.
I could think about all the messages I have on my phone, each one from a different sibling demanding to know what the hell is going on with me. That should do the ardor-cooling trick.
From Bronte: Are you in some kind of trouble?
From Robert: Is she pregnant?
From Shelley: Joey’s roommate? You dog. roflmao
From Thoreau: Aren’t you supposed to be the boring one?
From Hugo: Did you pull a Bronte? Because we can call Tanaka.
From Austen: Royal wants to talk to you. I’m trying to distract him with fake pregnancy cravings. Will keep you posted.
Royal is more than welcome to come over, I think as I heft my weights and do a few angry lunges. He can watch me kiss my wife until she forgets his name.
That’s great. Pick a fight with the only guy in the family who can bench press you.
I’m sure my mother would be even happier with me than she is right now. I’ve been married twice, and she didn’t get a wedding out of it either time.
Maybe we should have spent more time introducing Tanisha to the family. Letting them get to know her before we had that quick, unsentimental ceremony. But she was determined to make it happen as swiftly as possible, and kept reminding me of the upcoming deadline.
That’s what should be on my mind. The only thing. Not the way she pushes her hair behind the delicate shell of her ear. The smile that always lights her eyes when she talks about her best friend, or the agency she puts so much of her energy into because it’s like her child. That’s what she called it—their baby.
I wouldn’t have minded giving her one of her own, but according to the part of her file I shouldn’t have read, she can’t have children. I know Barry wanted a little brother or sister, and she’d asked about that, but it wasn’t a deal breaker for me. She was all I wanted.
It only means we don’t have to be as careful. We’ve had our blood tests. I can take her bare. Nothing but skin on skin.
“Damn.”
My hands are on my hips and I’m looking down at the vulgar staff in my shorts when the door leading to the kitchen opens, revealing Tanisha with a handful of colorful, lacy underwear.
Fuck me.
She stares at my bare chest with eyes so wide they’re taking up most of her face, and it’s so adorable I scowl in return. “Did you need something?”
A quick flinch and her eyes lift to the ceiling. “Sorry. Sorry. Delicates. I wa
s unpacking and I thought I’d wash these in the delicate cycle?”
I’d scowl harder but she’s not looking and I don’t want to waste it without an audience. “You don’t have to ask to do your laundry in your own house. Anyway, I’m done here. I need to hit the shower.”
She bites her lower lip, still looking up. “Good idea. I mean, you look really hot. Sweaty,” she corrects, louder than she needs to. “You’re all sweaty.”
God, she’s cute. “You’re not going to look at me, are you?”
“Not right now, no.”
“You had brothers and a guy for a roommate.”
“Not the same. But I didn’t go around staring at them either.”
I walk over to her and lower my lips to her ear. “You can, you know. We’re married. I slept beside you last night. There’s a ring on your finger that says you’re allowed to look.”
One of my grandmother’s. Asking for it went a long way toward easing my mother’s ire. I was able to get a small modification made to the band in time for the wedding. Three small yellow diamonds that made me think of Tanisha. More than worth it for the smile she gave me when I put the ring on her finger.
Her eyes only lower enough to meet mine, and the warning look she’s giving me makes me laugh. “Maybe later,” I concede, carefully circling around her so I don’t get my sweaty body or rampant erection anywhere near her delicates.
Was it my idea to go slow?
Bad idea, Emerson. Horrible idea.
***
After a week of it, I’m ready to take drastic measures. Six days of sleeping beside her. Six days of accidental meetings in the hall and watching her mouth move as she talks.
Going out for those work meetings was almost a relief. I needed some perspective. My home office smells like her now. The throw pillows are migrating. So even though she’s out in the world, happily ruling her kingdom and being driven around by some guy named Derek all day, she’s still here. Near my desk. In my head. Messing with my mind.
Wedded to a Wayne: A Finn World Holiday Romance Page 4