Perfect Husband

by Leslie Johnson

  But Ernest had ordered me to make Denton fall in love.

  I was afraid the more time we spent together, Denton would eventually tire of me as he did most women.

  But I couldn’t dwell on that now.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked right after a mind-blowing climax, our sweaty bodies molded against each other’s, our breathing coming hard and fast.

  “Just about how much fun I’m having,” I said with a quick, reassuring smile. “It’s been a crazy honeymoon.”

  He rolled onto his back, tucking his arms behind his head. “I’m having fun too. Never thought I’d say this, but I don’t want to return to New York. Not for another week, at least.”

  But we had to. And our six-month countdown would begin.

  “Gramps looked pretty happy on our wedding day,” Denton added. “But I’m afraid he’s going to start asking for a great-grandchild every time we see him.” He paused, glancing at me. “Think you’ll be able to handle it, Tiffany?”

  “Six whole months of having to hear, ‘Where’s my great-grandchild?’ Sure, why not?” Of course, that was the least of my concerns. Making Denton North fall in love with me was the one stressing me out.

  When we finally returned to New York, we quickly fell back into our usual routine. I realized I couldn’t spend the next six months simply going to yoga classes and doing nothing else, so I found myself a part-time job teaching English as a second language at a local community center. Denton wanted me to work at some flashy gallery or contribute time to philanthropic organizations, but I preferred trying out teaching. Besides, the idea of hanging around one-percenters who’d only known extreme wealth all their lives made me uncomfortable.

  I made sure to call Rach and my mom every day. Mom thought I was still working at Morning Brew and frequently asked how Andy was doing. Finally, I got so tired of her subtle hints about when we were going to tie the knot that I blurted out the truth.

  “We broke up, Mom. Now, can you please stop talking about him?”

  She was completely floored. “No, that’s not possible. You two love each other.”

  A snort ripped from my throat. “Love? Seriously? Mom, he dumped me via text when he met another woman. But when he saw me with another guy...”

  “You’re dating someone else?”

  Married someone else, Mom. “Kind of. He’s really nice and so far, he’s been good to me.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Denton.” I avoided giving his surname in case she tried to Google him. “He’s good looking, generous, and fun to be with. I’m pretty happy, Mom.”

  “Well, as long as you’re happy, sweetie, then that’s what matters. When do I get to meet him?”

  More than anything, I wanted to introduce Denton to my mother. She’d raised me as a single mom, working three jobs sometimes just to make ends meet. She was beautiful, tough, and strong as hell. I wanted so much to make her proud of me.

  Which was why I couldn’t tell her about what I’d done. She would be so disappointed in me.

  “When our relationship gets more serious,” I said. “Right now, we’re just dating.”

  When we hung up, I felt like shit. And like I’d dug myself into some kind of hole.

  Ten

  Time was a funny thing. It seemed to go on and on when you were a kid, but once you hit a certain age, it flew by ruthlessly. And another thing, if you were having fun, the days seemed too short. But work at a job you hated, and minutes stretched like hours.

  For me, six months on paper had sounded like a long time. But we were already into the fourth month before I realized the weather was getting quite chilly.

  Two months left. I’d gotten way too comfortable with our fake marriage life. And too happy, damn it.

  “Happy anniversary,” Denton said one evening, presenting me with a slim red box.

  I glanced up sharply, wondering what he was up to this time.

  “Anniversary? I don’t understand.”

  “It’s been exactly four months.” He waved the present under my nose. “Personally, I know plenty of couples who don’t make it that long. It’s quite an accomplishment, as far as I’m concerned.”

  I accepted the box and opened the lid. It was a bracelet studded with gemstones, similar in style to the necklace Ernest had given me on our wedding day. Both were stunning, and things I felt unworthy of receiving.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, keeping my head down so he wouldn’t see the tears gathering in my eyes. “But I don’t have anything for you.”

  “It’s fine.” He laid on the couch, resting his head on my lap. “I just wanted to spring something nice on you.” With a happy grin, he closed his eyes. “Hmm. This feels so comfortable. I wish I could stay like this forever.”

  Forever. Did he mean it?

  “How’s Ernest doing lately? I thought he looked stronger when we saw him two weeks ago.”

  “He’s doing a lot better than the doctors expected. In fact, they think he might outlive their first prognosis.”

  This was excellent news, but it also brought up another question, one I was afraid to ask.

  “If that’s the case, then what happens to our six-month contract?” Every muscle in my body went taut as I waited for his reply.

  Denton stiffened too. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…” Fuck, how was I supposed to bring this up without sounding like a jerk? “I mean, there’s only two months left in our fake marriage. What happens if Ernest outlives the contract?”

  “Then we extend it.”

  “What if I don’t want to?” If Denton didn’t love me, I had no desire to extend anything. Why prolong the torture?

  He sat up quickly, glaring at me. “Is it about the money? I’ll deposit the million at the sixth-month mark. Then I’ll deposit another million after the extension. Is that satisfactory?”

  No, it’s not! I wanted to scream, but instead, I sat on the couch like a moody teenager.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?” My spine shot straight and the magazine I’d been paging through fell to the floor.

  “I don’t know… like you want to hit me over the head with something.”

  “Maybe because I do. You really think it’s about the money? You think that’s all I care about?”

  “Then why won’t you even consider extending the contract?”

  “Because I’m—” I’m in love with you. And you’re fucking breaking my heart right now. All you can talk about is contract extensions, when what I really want to hear is that you love me and want me with you forever.

  Denton stared at me, his blond hair falling over his eyes. I resisted the urge to brush it back. “Because you’re what? Unhappy? Sick of living a lie? Tired of seeing my face every damn day?”

  This man was the most frustrating person ever.

  “I’m tired,” I said finally. “I think I’ll go to bed now.”

  That night, for the first time we had angry sex. I didn’t think we’d have sex at all when he changed into silky pajamas and then stayed on his side of the bed. Next thing I knew, he’d flipped over and yanked me under him. Then his lips were on mine, his tongue insisting entry into my mouth. Instinctively, my lips opened and when our tongues clashed it was like a fury was unleashed. He pinned my arms above my head, his hands clamped over my wrists. Bringing them together, he held my wrists in one hand while the other worked my pj shorts down my legs. Pushing my panties out of the way, he left them on and slammed his cock into me. His face was a mix of confusion, anger, and pleasure. When he bit my shoulder, I cried out in both pleasure and pain. Staring into his angry eyes, I chased the climax I could feel coming, raising my hips to meet his in a hard, grinding motion. When he stiffened, every muscle beneath my waist clenched, and I came around him as he growled and shot his cum deep inside me. Exhaustion took over and we rolled away from each other, each facing the opposite direction.

  This suddenly became our
new routine. Angry sex. Not talking afterward. Just going about whatever was next.

  It wasn’t how I wanted to spend the remainder of our two months together.

  When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I called Ernest for some advice. “Your grandson is such a pig,” I seethed. “All he can talk about is contract extensions, and he doesn’t even have a clue as to how I feel!”

  “Then tell him,” Ernest said. There was a clicking noise in the background. “Where’s the communication? What is it with this generation that hates to sit down and talk?”

  “We talk.” I paced back and forth in the kitchen, flinging my hand in the air for emphasis, as if he could see it. “But just not about what we’re really thinking.” That clicking noise was starting to annoy me. “What are you doing? What’s that sound?”

  “I’m playing a game of Chinese Go with a lovely friend of mine.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt.”

  “Don’t be silly, young girl. I can handle the game and your chattery voice at the same time.”

  “So, any advice for me?”

  Ernest paused, and the clicking sounds increased. “As far as I can see, my grandson is in love with you. He shows all the signs—he fawns over you, talks about you all the time, actually wants to spend more time with you, and smiles more whenever you’re around. If that isn’t a man in love, then I don’t know what the heck it is.” Another pause filled with more clicks. “Now, it’s possible he doesn’t recognize what he’s feeling. Love is a pretty foreign concept to him, you see. So it’s up to you to make him realize that he can’t live without you.”

  “Even if it means I divorce him at the end of our original contract?”

  “If that’s what it takes to make him understand, then yes.”

  “But I don’t want to divorce him. Gloria and Patrick will be so devastated.”

  “Don’t worry about them. This is about you and Denton.”

  “Okay, then.” I softened my voice. “Thank you, Ernest. I really needed to hear this.”

  “Any time, young Tiffany.” He hung up on me to return to his “lovely” Go-playing friend.

  I made up my mind. There would be no extensions. We either confessed our feelings and stayed married, or divorced at the six-month mark.

  It was finally time to lay all our cards on the table.

  After a long teaching session with my ESL students, I shopped for groceries and made grilled swordfish for dinner. Denton was still giving me the cold shoulder, despite the fact that he couldn’t stop touching me in bed and still joined me in the shower. And even though he didn’t really speak to me, his frantic kisses told me what I needed to know.

  He wanted me. He was confused about what he was feeling. He didn’t want me to leave. And he was getting desperate with the clock ticking down.

  It was time for confessions.

  “I made swordfish,” I declared when he stepped into the penthouse.

  Denton glanced at me as if debating whether he should break his silence. “Smells good,” he finally admitted. “Let me just wash up and get changed.”

  When we sat down to eat, I gave him a contented smile. “This is nice, isn’t it? Just a married couple having a lovely, quiet dinner together.”

  “Are you going to sign the extension?”

  “Let’s eat first,” I said, trying to decrease the tension. “We’ll talk later.”

  As we ate, we exchanged details about our day and current world news, and Denton complimented me on my cooking, but our minds were firmly set on that stupid clock.

  He wanted the extension. I didn’t.

  I wanted us to stay married for real. But he might run screaming at the prospect.

  It was a fucking nightmare.

  “Well?” he demanded after we’d cleared the plates. “Have you come to a decision regarding the extension or not?”

  I had to tread carefully here. “Before I answer that, I think we need to address another issue.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “How we feel about each other.” There. I’d said it. When Denton gave me a blank look, I hurried to explain. “I know we started this with a contract. Nothing is supposed to be real. But…” I lost some of my nerve, and my voice went lower. “It feels real to me now. And because of that, I don’t want us to talk about contract extensions and million-dollar payments. I just want us to stay married. I want us to be a real couple because I’m in love with you.”

  Denton stared at my face like he didn’t recognize me.

  “It’s your turn to say something,” I said quietly, but inside, I was shaking.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Tell me what you’re thinking. How do you feel about me?”

  He shook his head. “You know I’m deeply fond of you. And the last four months have been amazing. It’s just... fuck, I was afraid this might happen.”

  My stomach grew queasy. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been attracted to you from the beginning, Tiffany. And that’s why I couldn’t keep my hands off you the whole time. But this arrangement is deluding us into thinking there’s something more when there actually isn’t. None of this is real. We can’t fall into that trap.”

  My heart was pounding a sickening thud in my chest, and I was sure I was either going to throw up or burst into tears. I pretty much knew what his answer was going to be, but I had to ask. “Is this your final thought on the matter?”

  He must have seen the distress in my eyes. “Look, we can spend more time together if you just sign that extension.”

  “Shut up about that stupid extension!” I cried. “Don’t you get it? I have no desire to spend another minute with you if all you care about is that contract. And if you think you’re doing this for Ernest, you might as well stop right now. He knows everything.”

  Denton froze. “Gramps… knows about this?”

  I nodded, wiping tears from my eyes. “He knew from the beginning. But he just played along because your parents don’t know. And he wanted to keep it that way.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me, damn it!”

  Fed up, I rose to my feet. “Go ask him yourself. I’m not signing the extension because there’s no point. I’ll stay to complete the original contract, but that’s it.” I rushed out of the kitchen and into the guest bedroom, locking myself in.

  In the living room, I could hear Denton’s loud voice as he spoke to someone on the phone. It was probably Ernest, by the sound of it. After about thirty minutes, he hung up and swore loudly. Then our—his—bedroom door slammed, vibrating the walls.

  It was going to be a long eight weeks.

  Eleven

  The next weekend, I spent two days holed up in Rach’s apartment. She shuffled around, looking at me with pity in her eyes while I stuffed myself with hot dogs and chocolate ice cream. After a while, I couldn’t take another minute of her judgment.

  “Okay, spill it, Rach. I know you’re dying to say I told you so.”

  “I told you!” she shouted, slamming her palms on the coffee table. “I told you sleeping with him was a bad idea. Now you’re in love with that handsome douchebag, and he doesn’t return your feelings. The only one suffering and heartbroken is you. Damn it!” She smacked the table again and winced.

  “At least I’ll have a million to comfort me,” I said lightly, trying to joke. “It’d be worse being heartbroken and poor, don’t you agree?”

  “What is it with men?” Rach grabbed the ice cream tub from me. “Andy dumps you via text, then wants you back when he sees you with another man. Denton loves to fuck you, but doesn’t want to stay married permanently.” She snorted. “Maybe he should see you with someone else. It might make him jealous enough to do something.”

  I gave her a tired smile. “It’s more likely that I’ll see him with someone else. Someone tall, blonde, and stinking rich. Just like him.”

  “By the way, have you heard? Andy quit his manager position at Morning Brew. He has his o
wn coffee shop now.”

  I sat up, interested. “Really? What’s it called?”

  Rach spoke carefully. “He called it Tiff’s Coffee. Not exactly original, but definitely a dedication to you.”

  Shocked, I closed my eyes. “Shit.”

  “I think he’s hoping you’ll return to him one day.”

  I had to admit, it was quite a romantic gesture. The least I could do was visit his new coffee shop and bring a vase of flowers or something.

  “Have you been there?” I asked Rach.

  “Hell no. He would just pepper me with more questions. ‘How’s Tiff doing?’ ‘Is she still married?’ ‘How does she look lately?’” She rolled her eyes. “It’s like the guy is obsessed.”

  If only he’d been this obsessed while we were dating. Then I wouldn’t have gone to that nightclub, and I wouldn’t have met Denton.

  And I wouldn’t be in this mess right now.

  “Let’s go to Tiff’s Coffee,” I declared, standing up suddenly. “It’s the polite thing to do when someone names a place after you.”

  “Are you sure?” I could tell Rach wasn’t too happy about the idea. “It’s probably best to avoid that place. Next thing you know, he’ll plaster photos of you all over the interior.”

  “Whatever. I don’t care what he does. I just want to go out and not think about Denton for a while. Okay?”

  So to take my mind off my troubles, Rach and I went shopping for new clothes, watched the newest chick flick at the theater, and finally, popped into Tiff’s Coffee for a quick visit. Andy was surprised but happy to see us, and pulled me in for a hug.

  The place was packed with customers lining up for coffee and croissants. Business was obviously going really well.

  “It looks incredible.” I glanced around around at the cute little white tables and chairs with red-upolstered seats. “Oh, here! We brought you some flowers for decoration.”

  “Thanks. I’ll have a break in twenty minutes when my employee comes in, so hang around for a while, alright?”