The Work Wife

by Allison B Hanson

  Inside the vestibule, a woman was waiting with a bouquet for Jamie and a boutonniere for her father.

  “Pastor Gregory and I will be up at the front of the church. You’d better show,” he told her before he strode off.

  When the lady had affixed the flower to her father’s coat, she gave them a smile and went into the sanctuary. A few seconds later the organ started bellowing a familiar tune.

  “I can’t believe he did this.” Jamie looked down at the flowers in her hand. White roses and purple flowers. He knew her favorite color.

  “You sure know how to pick them.” There wasn’t an ounce of hostility in her father’s words this time. Instead they were said with affection. “I have to say after all the yahoos you’ve dated, I expected this guy to be a half-wit too. But he’s not bad. Not bad at all.”

  “You could have just said ‘I like Wes.’ You didn’t have to go for the kill.”

  “That’s our cue.” He pointed as the music picked up. “We don’t want to keep your groom waiting.” He held up his arm officially. Seeing the moisture gather in his eyes made her throat tight, and soon she was tearing up too.

  Her father walked her down the aisle and paused in front of the man who was already her husband.

  “Who gives this woman to be wed?” the pastor asked.

  “I do,” her father answered, and reached out for Weston’s hand. “Thank you,” he said before he kissed Jamie on the cheek and went to sit in the front row.

  They exchanged wedding vows much like the ones they’d said to each other in Boston, but for some reason they touched her deeper than they had then. Maybe it was because her father was watching. Though she thought maybe it had more to do with the man standing in front of her.

  In Boston, this arrangement had been surreal. Now it seemed almost right.

  Weston was still her best friend, but now there was something . . . else zipping through her chest.

  When the pastor pronounced them husband and wife by the Commonwealth of Virginia, she tensed, knowing what came next.

  “You may kiss your bride.” A jolt of something much like excitement moved her a step closer to Weston.

  He smiled and then leaned down, softly touching his lips to hers. He was pulling away when her father grumbled, “That’s not a real kiss. Knock her socks off, son.”

  She laughed, but Weston took her father’s request seriously.

  He wrapped his arms around her and bent her backward as his mouth sealed over hers in what could only be described as a kiss that knocked her socks off. Or would have had she been wearing socks.

  When he’d thoroughly finished he set her back on her feet and winked at her while her father applauded his efforts.

  * * * *

  Wes couldn’t help the smug smile on his face as he walked out of the church with his wife. Even after fifteen minutes of photos, she still looked shocked senseless from his kiss.

  He almost hated to be leaving the next day. It might have been nice to have someone around to prompt him to kiss her again.

  When they got to the car, she pulled him aside. Her father was still talking to the pastor, and Wes wondered what she’d have to say about his gesture.

  “I’m going to make you dinner every night for a month,” she promised.

  “As long as it’s not pancakes.”

  “They weren’t that bad.”

  “I had a large glob of dry mix in mine. It was like biting into a ball of sand.”

  He thought she’d laugh or fake punch him in the ribs. Instead she leaned up and wrapped her arms around him. She hugged him so tight he had no choice but wind his arms around her waist and hug her back. He allowed himself to settle in and enjoy the contact. It felt nice to be held so tightly.

  “You don’t know how much this means to my dad. And to me. You’re amazing, Wes. I mean it. You’re the best husband ever. Fake or otherwise.”

  He didn’t feel smug now. He felt . . . uncomfortable. He wasn’t a hero. Her father said he wished he would have been able to walk his daughter down the aisle, and Wes could make that happen. He could correct one of the many wrongs they’d done by sneaking off to get married.

  At the restaurant, Mr. Witmer took it upon himself to tell everyone they passed that his daughter had just gotten married. They were congratulated and toasted by half the restaurant.

  Jamie laughed and hugged her father. Weston watched the exchange as Mr. Witmer’s eyes closed, no doubt basking in the moment. Then before he let her go, his gaze locked with Weston’s and he mouthed the words thank you over his daughter’s head.

  Wes wasn’t a hero, but the look on Chris Witmer’s face said Wes had just saved his world.

  * * * *

  Anna Stewart felt the tension move through the office and looked up from her desk. In the seven years she’d worked for Archer Worldwide, she’d been subjected to Mrs. Archer many times. As wife to the former owner and mother to the current one, she was a constant presence. But Anna doubted the woman even knew her name.

  Mrs. Archer—aka the wicked witch of the Upper West Side—had just gotten off the elevator. Anna hated this woman, not just because she was rude and snobby to a lowlife like her son’s executive assistant, but because she was demeaning and hurtful to Ben.

  The last time she’d been in the office, she’d yelled at him for almost an hour and he’d second-guessed himself for a week afterward.

  Anna had to do something. Quick.

  Pulling her cell phone out of her bag, she dialed the number to his office. Then answered the desk phone and patched the call through.

  He sounded exhausted when he answered.

  “You have a conference call.”

  “When?”

  “Right now. I’m going to patch it through. Stay on the phone, even if they don’t answer.”

  “I didn’t know I had a—”

  She transferred the call at the same time Mrs. Archer waltzed up to his door.

  “Sorry, you can’t go in there.” Anna jumped up and stood in front of the door.

  The woman looked down at her as if she were fungus. “Excuse me?”

  “Ben is on an important conference call. He can’t be disturbed.”

  The woman’s gaze shot over to Anna’s desk, where the red light indicated Ben was really on the phone. Good thing she’d thought to be thorough.

  “Please. It can’t be that important.”

  Mrs. Archer reached around Anna and grasped the door knob.

  “It’s a big firm in China. They’re looking to hire an American design team for their next office building. It’s going to be bigger than the Burj Khalifa.” That might have been laying it on a little thick.

  “Why would they be speaking to Benjamin? He should have turned the call over to Richard. He’s not suited to handle something this important.”

  Anger pulsed as Anna pushed against the door, using all her weight so Mrs. Archer couldn’t get through. If she had to tackle the bony woman to the floor, she would do it if it meant not having to see that pained look in Ben’s eyes.

  “He’s the one who initiated the deal and the only one Mr. Liu wants to work with.” Her harsh tone surprised even her.

  “This is ridiculous. Let me through this instant.”

  Unable to keep her out, Anna sighed and moved to the side as the woman rushed in.

  Ben was on the phone with his feet propped up on the desk and smile on his face. His hands moved through the air as he spoke animatedly in Mandarin to no one. He stopped abruptly and said something that sounded like an apology, then turned a frown on her.

  “I said I was not to be disturbed while I was on the phone.”

  “I know, but your mother—”

  “Because of the time difference, Mr. Liu and I have only a small window in which we can speak.” Damn, the time difference. She did
a quick calculation and relaxed, realizing it was just about six a.m. in Shenzhen. Normal business hours.

  She never knew lying could be so difficult. Of course, she’d never done it on this scale before. And it was about to get worse.

  * * * *

  Ben hadn’t had this much fun at work since the summers he and his brother worked here. He had no idea his mousy assistant was so diabolical, but it was amusing to say the least.

  “You need to get Richard involved, Benjamin. This is no time to play architect.”

  “I’m not playing architect. I’m playing businessman. I do have a degree in that. Several, as a matter of fact.”

  “We’ll discuss it when you’re finished. I’ll wait outside.”

  “I have a dinner meeting after the call.” Apparently Anna’s scheming was contagious. He turned to her. “Can you make sure the car is here on time?”

  “Of course. I’ll take care of it right away. We’ll let you get back to Mr. Liu.” She gestured toward the door and, surprisingly, his mother moved without argument.

  With the door closed, he picked up the phone to listen to the conversation on the other side of the door. Poor Anna. Alone with the beast.

  “If you’d like to set up a time to meet with Ben, I can put something on his schedule.”

  Ben laughed, impressed by her boldness. She’d always seemed so shy, he didn’t realize she had it in her.

  “I refuse to set up a meeting with my own son. I gave birth to him—not an easy birth, mind you—and I will not be written into his schedule like a common stranger.”

  “His schedule is electronic. You would be typed in,” Anna added, causing Ben to spit coffee across his desk. Oh, she was good.

  “I will wait here, and I’ll ride with him uptown for his meeting.”

  “Very well.”

  Ben winced. The show was over. He would be cornered in the town car for the ride. Traffic would make the trip even longer, but at least he’d have the opportunity to throw himself from the car if things got too bad.

  “Who is he meeting? Maybe I know them,” his mother asked.

  “Um. It’s David Price from Empire Health Insurance.”

  He could hear the frown in his mother’s voice when she said, “I’ve never heard of him.” Probably because she’d never watched a Red Sox game.

  Through the phone he heard the sounds of his mother’s irritation and fingers tapping on keys. No doubt, Anna was ordering the car to propel this charade into lunacy. What the hell, he would go along for the ride.

  A new email came in from his assistant.

  Your car will be ready at five. You might want to wrap up your meeting.

  At 4:53, he stepped out of his office, pulling on his coat. Anna was in her coat and slipping her laptop into her bag.

  “You’re going with him to the meeting?” his mother asked.

  “Yes. I’m compiling all the benefits data for comparative analysis. Ben is an excellent negotiator, but it’s sometimes easy to forget what was decided after the dust settles.”

  She was going with them? No doubt, she thought her presence would keep his mother from railing at him. He appreciated her sacrifice, but doubted it would work.

  He assisted both women into the town car waiting for them at the curb, and then took the seat by the door. Ready to jump if necessary.

  As soon as everyone was settled, Anna pulled out a folder and began prepping him for the imaginary meeting.

  “So then, Mr. Price isn’t married, but he does have a longtime girlfriend,” she began, and he hoped she wasn’t going to break into his pitching stats. “He’s been with Empire Health for two years.”

  “He’s left-handed, I believe,” Ben added, watching her lips pull up on the side. She had very nice lips.

  “Yes. That’s correct.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” his mother complained. “You’re left-handed as well.”

  “Which is why it’s handy to know which side to sit on,” Anna informed her.

  Before his mother was done rolling her eyes, the car pulled over in front of a historic pub. The brass fixtures on McGregor’s were well polished.

  “Here we are. Thank you for joining us on the trip, Mother. I’ll see you another time.”

  “You’re meeting the man here?”

  “Yes. Take care.” He reached over and patted her knee before getting out. He helped Anna with her bag and followed her up the stairs to the pub as the car drove off.

  Anna’s shoulders dropped and she shook her head.

  “I’m so sorry about that. She wouldn’t give up.”

  Ben laughed. “Thank you for going to so much trouble to protect me from my own mother.” It sounded ridiculous. He was a grown man, but his mother . . . She had the ability to point out every one of his shortcomings in record time.

  It took days for him to repair the shreds of his confidence after a visit with her. How many ways could the woman point out he was nothing compared to Weston?

  “I don’t like the way she talks to you. She makes it sound like you’re lucky to have a job at your family’s company, when in fact they are lucky to have you. Do any of them have any idea of all the things you do to keep Archer Worldwide running so smoothly?” Her indignant rant on his behalf made him smile. “I apologize for running you out here. I can call a car to come pick you up.”

  He covered her hand with his to stop her text. “We’re already here. Why don’t we have dinner?”

  “Together?” Her eyes were wide in shock.

  “Unless the pitcher from the Boston Red Sox is really here.” She smiled up at him and he realized for the first time how pretty she was. Maybe he’d never noticed because he’d never seen her smile before.

  He would make an effort to give her more reasons to smile in the future.

  Chapter 10

  “Thank you for everything you did this past week, with my dad,” Jamie said as she and Wes walked out of the airport in Boston late Saturday morning. It was the same frigid hell she had left behind, but she felt warmer with Wes next to her. “He was so happy to be able to walk me down the aisle. I didn’t realize how much he wanted to do that.”

  “You’re his princess,” Wes said, not even mocking her about it.

  “Should we do it again for your mother?” she asked, knowing his father had died about six years ago. Weston rarely talked about his father. She only knew he’d died from a massive heart attack while out for his daily run. Weston always said it was the epitome of irony. As well as the reason why he lifted weights instead of running.

  “No way. We’re not even going to tell her.”

  “Ever?”

  “No.”

  “But surely you’ll be going to New York to visit her at some point. Maybe we could get married in every state.”

  “No.”

  “She can’t be that bad.” Compared to Jamie’s druggy of a mother, Mrs. Archer would have to be better.

  “She’s always been . . . cold. Ben and I had a nanny and my mother rarely spent any time with us, unless we’d done something that made the family look bad. One time my parents were gone for three days before Ben and I realized they weren’t in the house.”

  “Wow.”

  “Back then I would have done anything to get her attention. Now, I realize it was better the other way. She’s constantly trying to get me to move back to New York. And it’s not because she wants to chat or take a walk. It’s all about perception with her. My leaving made it look like there was a falling-out in the family.” He rolled his eyes.

  “Was there a falling-out?”

  “Not exactly. It doesn’t matter now.”

  She could tell that was all he was going to say about that. She backed off for now.

  There would be plenty of time to get to know him better. And his family
quirks. At least she hoped so. They’d agreed to stay married until it became uncomfortable. She could see how that might be a long time from now.

  They were so well suited for each other. So far she actually enjoyed being married to him, and not just because of the trip. There were certain aspects of marriage they were not taking advantage of—namely sex—but that was okay.

  “I’m parked over there. Where are you?” he asked, shrugging the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder.

  “Over there.” She pointed in the opposite direction. Knowing what was happening now—the show was over, at least for now—they’d have to slip into character again on Monday, but for the rest of the weekend, they would go back to the single versions of themselves.

  “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “It’s fine. It’s cold as hell. You don’t need to do that.”

  “What? And make my wife drag that suitcase with the broken wheel through the parking lot? I don’t think so. And I’m going to get you a new suitcase.”

  “You are not. This just broke as I was walking into the airport last week. I can afford my own suitcase.”

  “I can’t tell. Is this an equality thing, a polite thing, or a stubborn thing? I’m just trying to be nice because you’re smaller than me physically. I don’t care that you have boobs. I’d offer for a guy if he was as wimpy as you are.”

  “I’m not wimpy.”

  “So stubborn, then?” He tilted his head, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Maybe a little. I know you’re not sexist.”

  “Please let me take care of your bag, princess. It’s man’s work.” He winked at her, and she rolled her eyes as he dragged her limping suitcase across the parking lot.

  “And I don’t believe you about the boobs comment. For someone who doesn’t care about my boobs, you were sure checking them out in my dress at Wedding Part Deux.”

  “Maybe I was, but they started it. They were checking me out first.”

  She laughed and led him to her car, where he heaved her bag in and turned to her.