The Work Wife

by Allison B Hanson

  “You are my friend. I mean it. The best friend I have,” he was quick to offer.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep. And I would love to hang out on a tropical island with you.” He gave her one of his rare smiles. The one with the dimple. He usually only pulled that out when he wanted sushi and she didn’t.

  “But since we can’t go to an island right now, can I interest you in dinner?” He snapped his laptop shut.

  “That sounds good.”

  “How about sushi?” he asked.

  “Absolutely not.” And then he gave her the smile with the dimple.

  * * * *

  Wes sipped his beer while Jamie put in her complicated order in which she reconstructed the salad from the menu into her own custom meal.

  “Extra cheese, no onions, dressing on the side, and can I have pecans instead of walnuts?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Thank you.” The waitress walked off as Jamie unrolled her napkin.

  “You know you’re just asking for spit in your salad when you do that.”

  “I know what I like.”

  “Hope you like spit,” he mumbled, more to himself.

  He would argue that she didn’t know what she liked. Or at least she liked stuff that wasn’t good for her. The last guy she’d dated longer than a week had been a loser. Wes had kept his mouth shut, hoping she would figure it out on her own. But, man, did it take longer than it should have.

  And then there was her evening with Duane.

  She hadn’t supplied many details about their date, but she didn’t seem to be considering jumping teams anymore. That must have meant it didn’t go well.

  “Will you be going out with Duane again?”

  Like the times before, just the name shut her down. Had the guy been inappropriate with her? Wes was just looking for a reason to take hold of the guy and toss him out the window. If only their windows opened on the second floor.

  He hated when reality crept in to ruin his fantasies.

  “No. I’m not going out with him. We didn’t go out the first time. It was just work.”

  “Where did you go?” he asked, trying his best to sound casual.

  “Menton,” she mumbled as she sipped her beer.

  Menton? Duane had taken her to a fancy restaurant to talk shop, and Wes had brought her to Applebee’s? She always picked Applebee’s when it was her turn to choose, which was why he’d suggested it.

  He should have taken her someplace fancier so she knew he valued her as a partner.

  They finished their meal in silence as he struggled with his failures to play the game as well as Duane. When the waitress asked if it would be separate checks, Jamie said yes, as he said no.

  “Why would you pay for my meal? We only pay for each other on our birthdays.”

  “Did Duane pay for your meal at Menton?”

  “Yeah, but I was helping him, and trust me, I deserved to be compensated for spending time with him. Talking to him for any length of time should entitle me to the best little crab cake the world has to offer.”

  “The guy’s a snake, Jamie. We’ll get to number one like we planned. I promise. I know I haven’t been as determined as you in the past. But I see how important it is to you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen.”

  “I know we will. And even if we don’t, I’d rather be on Team Two with you than have to deal with him.”

  He felt better until she pushed her twenty-dollar bill across the table.

  “And I’m paying for my own meal,” she announced. “Because we’re friends. And friends don’t need to buy their friends’ loyalty. Got it?”

  * * * *

  Jamie spent the whole night tossing and turning, trying to come up with some way to go on this trip. She only remembered she was supposed to pick up coffee when she was walking into their office.

  He glanced up and then frowned. “Was it my day? I’m sorry, I forgot.”

  “No. I just remembered it was my day. I’m the one who forgot.”

  “Are you okay? You’re wearing your forty-degree coat and it’s only twenty outside.”

  “I guess I didn’t notice.”

  “What’s wrong?” was his immediate reply. He’d even jumped up from his chair to come closer. “Are you sick? Do you have a fever?” His hand twitched and for a second she thought he was going to reach out to touch her head, but he didn’t.

  “Yes. I have cabin fever. Maybe if I wear my forty-degree coat it will become forty degrees. And how sad is it that I would be happy for forty-degree weather?” She threw her hands in the air. “I’m going to go get coffee.”

  She rushed out of their office and went to the break room to get them each a cup. Hoping it would magically change the season. Maybe she would find a spouse at the coffeepot and she’d be admitted to join the trip.

  When she came back, Wes was leaning on her desk.

  “Thank you,” he said as he placed the cup on the table and crossed his arms again. “I know you’re bummed about Jamaica. But you need to let it go. Maybe one day we’ll be married and will get invited to these things too.”

  She knew he’d meant they’d be married to other people, but the way he’d worded his statement caused a spark of an idea. Maybe it was a good idea, most likely it was madness. But it quickly ignited and burned its way through her mind.

  She waited until the kernel of thought formed into a full-fledged scheme before she smiled at Weston.

  “That’s it. That’s what we’ll do. We’ll get married.”

  Chapter 4

  Jamie waited for it to sink in. She didn’t know what she expected. Maybe that he’d tell her she was brilliant. Instead, his brows creased in confusion.

  “But neither of us is even dating anyone.” He backed away from her. “Why do you have the same smile as the Grinch when he comes up with the plan to steal Christmas?”

  “We’ll marry each other.” She stopped tapping her fingertips together, so as not to frighten him even more.

  She watched the different emotions cross his face as he processed her words. Confusion was the most prevalent, until the shock set in.

  To say he looked horrified would be an understatement. He acted as if Freddy Krueger had shown up holding hands with Jason Voorhees, carrying Michael Myers on his shoulders. It was a bit insulting, but she powered on.

  “You said ‘if we were married,’ and it gave me the idea.”

  “Whoa. Do not make me responsible for this horrible idea. I didn’t mean married to each other. I meant married in general.” He moved his arms in a wide circle to encompass anyone else in the world besides her.

  “So? What if we married each other? It would eliminate the problem for both of us. Besides, we spend more time with each other than anyone we’ve ever dated. You already refer to me as your work wife.”

  “That’s a joke. Marriage is serious.”

  “What’s the big deal?” she asked.

  He stepped closer and ducked his head. She could see the color in his cheeks.

  “We aren’t in love,” he whispered, looking embarrassed for having to say it.

  She couldn’t help it, she laughed, earning a glare from her potential betrothed.

  “Weston, people get married all the time and they don’t love each other. They might think they do, but the divorce rate proves otherwise. At least we wouldn’t go into it under the delusion of something elusive and highly unattainable.”

  She was using his own logic against him. And she could tell he was thinking about it.

  * * * *

  Wes let out a sigh because she’d touched on something he himself had said before. Marriage didn’t mean love. It was obvious his father hadn’t loved his mother. Not really.

  “Wouldn’t you rather wait until you meet The One? You’re onl
y twenty-eight. That’s hardly old-maid territory. You have plenty of time.”

  “I haven’t been on a real date in three months. And haven’t been out with a viable candidate for two years. You do the math, Wes. My odds aren’t good.”

  He could tell her the reason she wasn’t married. She was too confident. He’d known her for five years, and in that time he’d heard all the reasons she’d been given for why men called it off. He also knew it was a bunch of crap.

  Jamie didn’t need a man in her life. She was more than capable of taking care of herself, and this intimidated men. At least most men. He was rather impressed by her independence and tenacity.

  He would have told her the problem before, but he didn’t want to risk she’d try to change herself into a damsel in distress just to attract some insecure caveman.

  “We get along better than any real couple I know. We have fun together,” she continued.

  “You do make me laugh,” he said, softening to the idea a tiny bit. Though he didn’t think it was enough to constitute marriage.

  “Think about it tonight. You love analyzing things. Make up a list of potential risk factors and we’ll discuss it tomorrow.” She held out her hands. “All I’m asking is that you don’t just brush it off because of the love thing.”

  The love thing. As if it were insignificant. While he wasn’t sure how to go about falling in love, he’d kind of hoped it was one of those things that just happened. It was sort of implied that it worked like that. Still, it hadn’t happened yet. Maybe he would wait around the rest of his life and it would never happen.

  “Okay. I promise, I’ll consider it with an open mind. I’ll write down my concerns and we’ll discuss it together like any other project.” They were pretty good at solving problems when they worked together.

  How many other couples could do that without arguing?

  He shook his head, not liking that he’d already come up with a reason why this plan could work. He was supposed to be the voice of reason.

  The rest of the day was spent figuring out how to add a sprinkler system to an existing build, and taking note of issues that would help him decide if he should marry his co-worker.

  It was even more distressing that he was having more resistance from the sprinkler system. So far, he had only two things written down on the other list. He wasn’t ready to reveal them. He’d been given a day to come up with a complete collection of reasons why it wouldn’t work.

  And these reasons were shaky at best. He’d need to come up with something big if he was going to save them from this.

  * * * *

  Jamie walked into her apartment that night and went straight for the shower. It was the place she went if there was any possibility she might cry. And tonight she just might.

  At this very moment, Wes was deciding their fate.

  She’d blurted out the idea without giving it enough thought and already she was wavering. If he came in the next day saying yes, she would have to tell him she was wrong. Telling Wes she was wrong about anything was to be avoided at all costs. The last time she’d said she was wrong he’d asked her to repeat it three times.

  Wrongness on this level would probably require a billboard-size declaration.

  Maybe he wouldn’t say yes.

  Of course he wouldn’t say yes. He was hung up on the love part, and he was much more responsible than she was. He would stop this from happening.

  It was a stupid idea, a testament to her desperation to achieve the approval of her boss through a silly title. She’d always been a pleaser.

  The rest of her shower she tried to convince herself it was fine, but when she wiped the condensation from the mirror and looked at herself, she knew she would never be satisfied with second place. She would have to find another way. She couldn’t marry Wes.

  She’d never shared anything with a friend like the close bond she had with Wes, but still, friendship was different than a marital union between two lovers. They’d never even kissed. They’d only ever hugged that one time, and that had been under false pretenses.

  By the time she dried off, dressed, and made dinner she was much better. She would go to work tomorrow and Wes would say no. He would explain all the reasons why it was a bad idea and she would reluctantly but happily agree.

  And things would go back to the way they were.

  She called her father to set up a trip the week after next. After this plan went south, she would need to go south as well, to lick her wounds in private.

  “Don’t think for one moment I don’t know you’re coming down here to get away from that Boston winter rather than to see me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I miss you.” She did miss her father. She’d tried to get him to Skype or Facetime, to no avail. He hated technology and wasn’t big on talking on the phone. She’d managed to get him to text, but it had been a challenge.

  “I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

  “I can take a cab. What if my flight’s delayed?”

  “You’re not spending your money on a cab when I have a car and can drive to the airport.”

  “Dad, I make good money.”

  “You still don’t need to waste it on a cab.”

  “Fine, Dad. You pick me up. I’ll text you when I land.” There was some grumbling before he changed the subject.

  “Are you dating anyone?” he asked.

  “No.” But I did propose marriage to my co-worker this morning as a way to get close to a client. It was a good thing Wes was going to turn her down.

  What would she tell her father?

  She went to sleep easily that night, knowing Wes would do the right thing and save them from her stupidity.

  * * * *

  He could feel Jamie’s gaze on him the moment he walked into the office. He took her coffee over and placed it on her desk, expecting her to pounce.

  She didn’t and he couldn’t fathom her expression. She looked equal parts nervous, defiant, and terrified.

  “Well?” she said as quiet as a whisper.

  “I’m not sure. I tried to come up with a definitive answer, but I ended up with a huge list of questions.”

  “Okay. Good. That’s good, right? I was hasty when I said you should decide. It was rash. We’ll just forget—Wait. You have a list of questions?”

  “Not a huge list, but substantial.” He feared it wasn’t substantial enough.

  “Right. Yes. Obviously there would be questions we need to talk over together.”

  “Do you want to start?” he offered.

  “Uh. No. You go ahead. I’m sure they’re the same questions I have.”

  “Okay. My first question would be about living arrangements.”

  “Sure.” She nodded.

  “What are your thoughts on that?” he pushed when she said nothing more.

  “Well, you wouldn’t want to move in with me. My place is small. You have a spare room.”

  “You think we should live together?” He couldn’t live with her. That would somehow cross a line that saying I do apparently didn’t.

  “It would save on rent. And everyone would expect it.”

  “No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Is it a deal breaker?” she asked formally, going to the whiteboard and writing it down as he nodded.

  “Yes. I think it is.”

  “Okay. We won’t live together. But we’ll have to pretend we do for work.”

  He nodded his agreement and frowned at his wrinkled paper.

  “What about . . .” His face felt like fire. He didn’t talk about sex with Jamie. Though she had always been quite open about it on her end. It wasn’t that he didn’t talk about it because she was a woman.

  He had sex. He liked sex. But he didn’t talk about it. He generally let his dates initiate the next step and went along
with it without discussion.

  “What about what?” she asked, taking the paper and looking at his list. This concern wasn’t written down. Apparently he couldn’t even write out the word sex on a piece of paper. What was wrong with him?

  She looked up at him expectantly. “The only thing you have on this list is living arrangements.”

  “I have the rest of the list memorized.”

  “Okay, so what is the next thing?”

  “Consummating the marriage.” He spit it out formally, expecting her to laugh. She didn’t.

  “Oh.” Good. He’d finally forced her to see the craziness of this plan. She scrunched up her nose and looked him over.

  “Really? Did you just make your disgust face when considering the idea of sex with me?” It was a bit insulting.

  “I’m sorry. I just don’t see you that way. I have HMB when it comes to you.”

  “HMB?”

  “Hot male blindness.”

  “Is this a clinical diagnosis?”

  “Not really.” She laughed and he felt less uncomfortable.

  “Can you see my reflection in a mirror?”

  “You’re not taking this seriously,” she accused.

  Seriously? She’d made up an acronym for a fake disease. “That’s because it isn’t possible.” He rolled his eyes. “And you do realize that you confirmed my hotness by default when you mentioned the HMB.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  That made two of them, but it was an important aspect of marriage. Or so he’d heard. “It’s going to come up.” This caused a snicker, but he chose to ignore it so they could get through this.

  “No one really knows what goes on but us. And it’s not like someone will be standing outside our door demanding proof.”

  She didn’t want to sleep with him either. That was good. “We can make vague comments about not getting enough sex, like other married people, and no one will know the difference.”

  He cleared his throat, and stalled for a moment. “Except, I will want to have sex at some point. You will want to have sex too.”