The Marriage Pact: A Baby Romance

by Tia Siren

  Why would he lie about that being his apartment if it wasn’t?

  Now I couldn’t get that question out of my mind. Yeah, I really wanted to see him again, but I also wanted to ask him about the apartment. Maybe I was just overthinking things, or maybe he was dog-sitting, but he told me it was his.

  Jesus, this man had really gotten under my skin.

  I decided to whip out my phone and open the app to message him. I mean, it was my idea to go on the car ride that led to our ad-fulfilling encounter, so I didn’t think it would be odd if I sent him the first message afterwards.

  Right?

  I had a really nice time last night, I sent.

  That was a good message, nice and general, in case he didn’t want to respond, but a really good opening of a door if he wanted to step through.

  And I was ecstatic when he messaged back a few minutes later.

  I could tell, he wrote.

  How do you know I didn’t fake it? I’ve gotten pretty good at that in my lifetime, I said.

  Because I saw it in your eyes. You can’t fake the way your face looked.

  You looked at my face? I asked.

  Well, most men just look at their dicks going in and out, but I can do that with my hand.

  “How’re those buttons coming along?” Luna asked.

  I was only halfway through sorting them out, and I knew she probably needed me out front.

  “Twenty more minutes?” I asked.

  I watched her look down her nose at me before she eyed my phone, and I saw the disdain for technology wash again over her face.

  “I’m gonna make you a mock up one of these days for the website,” I said, smirking.

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  I felt my phone vibrate, and my heart leapt with excitement.

  If I’m being honest, that was my first time, too, he said.

  Wait, that was your first time having sex?

  No, that was my first time fooling around in the back of a car, he replied.

  Well, then I one-upped you there, because it wasn’t for me.

  Sounds like I was in the arms of a pro, then.

  That makes two of us, I wrote.

  It felt to natural, talking with him this way. I was able to focus long enough to get the rest of the buttons sorted, and I smiled every time I saw a message back from him. He asked me how my day was going, and I told him I was ready to pop every single button off my clothing and replace them with zippers, and his response was priceless.

  I’m sure I could help you pop off all those buttons, if you’d like.

  The electricity that coursed through my veins when I read that message could’ve lit up the city block, and when I was finally done sorting those damn decorative buttons, I sent him one last message.

  I suppose that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. After all, you seemed to be pretty adept at getting that zipper of yours down in such a cramped space.

  I took the buttons out and put them back on the shelves and saw the sheer amount of people in the store. Luna was fuming in a corner that I’d taken so long with those buttons, so I left my phone behind the counter and walked over to a group of old women looking at yarn. They all had knitting bags with needles poking out, and I chuckled when I realized what they were doing.

  The women were debating on the type of yarn to use for their projects, and Luna was terrible at suggestions like that.

  “Can I help you ladies?” I asked.

  “Finally, some help,” one exclaimed.

  “Yes, yes. Could you, by any chance, tell us the difference between these two yarns?” The woman was holding up two colors of the same brand yarn, and the only thing I could do was bury my giggle that was threatening to burst forth.

  “Besides the color, nothing. They are both the same weight and both have the same polyester/cotton blend.”

  “Ew, polyester. That won’t ever breathe for a blanket, Eunice.”

  “What yarns do you have here that breathe?”

  “You must be Miss Eunice?” I asked.

  The woman had a cockatoo hairstyle of gray and white hair that sat on top of a broad forehead. Her glasses hung down on her nose, and her fingers were curled and deformed with what I could only assume was arthritis. I was so entranced with trying to help these ladies find what they want that I didn’t hear my phone buzz underneath the desk.

  I talked these women through the difference in weighted yarns, as well as the different types of materials our yarns were blended and woven with. I let them know that the best yarns for blankets that breathed were either one hundred percent cotton or blends that were eighty percent cotton and twenty percent silk.

  I knew they wouldn’t enjoy the price of the silk-blended cotton, so they settled on the full-cotton yarns and began dumping skeins of it onto the counter. Luna was watching from the corner with a slight smirk on her face, and I assumed it was just because she had gotten out of helping these ladies with something she absolutely detested.

  She privately called them “yarn snobs.”

  “Do you ladies want to split this, or is this all on Miss Eunice’s tab?” I smiled.

  “It better not be,” she said. “I’m eighty-nine today!”

  “Well, happy birthday, Miss Eunice! Ladies, it sounds like you better help her out with this bill.”

  “How much is it?” the shorter one asked.

  “All in all, $87.62. I can split it however you wish.”

  “We can split it three ways,” the taller woman said.

  “You mean I’m paying for my own yarn on my birthday!?” Eunice exclaimed.

  “You had breakfast and you’re getting dinner, so calm down,” the shorter woman said.

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at them while I took their cards and rang them up. I could tell they’d been friends for quite some time, and when we finally got all the yarn bagged up, Luna offered to help them all to their car.

  “You have a very lovely store,” I heard Miss Eunice say. “We tried looking you up online, and we couldn’t find you. We thought you’d shut down.”

  At that comment, I laughed out loud, and Luna shot me a look before the door closed behind her.

  I looked at the clock and realized how long I’d been talking to those women. I scrambled for my phone to see if Mason had messaged back. Sure enough, I had a notification for my messages, and his response made me smirk.

  You should see me with the snaps of a bra. Lightning speed, I tell you.

  His message was sent over an hour ago, and I wanted to continue the bantering. I enjoyed the outside stimulation, and the man behind the messages wasn’t half bad himself. But I sort of felt like the mood might have passed, and I didn’t want to bother him too much. Then, as if someone in my life had a sixth sense about things going well, my phone rang, and Frank’s name popped up.

  “Yes?” I sighed.

  “Oh, my god. You’ve gotta pick up dinner when you come home. I went grocery shopping and picked up all this awesome stuff, and then I fucking dropped it coming into your apartment!”

  “Calm down,” I said. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I took all this fucking shit up the stairs before I remembered you were on the first floor.”

  “You’ve been on my couch for a few days, and you’ve constantly busted in for years now. Why the hell did you suddenly think I was upstairs?”

  “I don’t know. You just gotta pick up some dinner, all right? The milk dropped on my toe, and I think I broke it, and it just hurts so much.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m about to leave in a bit, and I’ll swing by somewhere and get something.”

  “Could it be that Indian place?” she asked. “I’m craving some curry in a bad way.”

  “Anything else, princess?” I mocked.

  “Do you have any medical tape? It might be dislocated.”

  “Goodbye, Frank.”

  I laughed at Luna one last time when she came in, and then I excused myself for the rest of the day. I checked my
bank account and realized I didn’t have enough to swing by that Indian place, so I ended up at the store walking up and down the aisles. Of course, I had to tell Frank I’d pick her up some food. It wasn’t like she didn’t have a car or money or the ability to function as a human, yet I always got put out on my ass because I didn’t know how to say “no.”

  I guess I just wanted the people around me to be happy.

  But when was I ever going to be happy?

  I ended up settling on some curry sauce, some discounted chicken, and some jasmine rice in a premixed flavor package. I decided I was going to take this time with Frank to tell her she needed to find another place and soon. I loved her to death, but I needed my apartment back.

  I needed my own space back where I could retreat and be myself, and her busting in on Mason and me that night and not taking the hint to leave meant I wouldn’t have any time that was “me time” until she was gone. She’d probably take it as some sort of insult and storm out and be pissed for weeks, but I’m sure I’d find a way to do just fine without someone sleeping on my couch, eating my food, and not helping much with bills.

  Hell, she sounded just like one of my fucking exes.

  I talked through my entire speech in my head as I came home. I came through the door, and she frowned when she saw the grocery bags, but I stopped her before she could get anything out of her mouth.

  “Didn’t have the money,” I murmured.

  “We need to talk,” Frank said seriously

  “Actually, yes, we do,” I said when I slammed the bags down. “We need to talk about you finding another place to live.”

  “None of that right now. I have to tell you something about Jason.”

  Was she fucking kidding me? My blonde-tipped, lazy ass, mooching ex-boyfriend. She wanted to talk about him now?

  “Frank, I don’t—”

  “Apparently, he’s gunning for some reality television show position, and he wants to talk about your relationship on the air.”

  “Oh,” I said. “He wants to broadcast to the world how he slept on my couch and how I had to fake my orgasms in bed with him?”

  “I don’t know, but he wants you to sign some sort of release so he can talk about it on camera. The TV station needs your permission or some shit.”

  “And when did all this go down?” I asked.

  I started slamming things around and bent down to look for a pot, but when Frank opened her mouth, I froze in my spot.

  “He came by earlier and I let him in.”

  I raised up and banged my head on the counter, and when tears rose to the back of my eyes, I had had enough.

  “You fucking what, Frank?” I hissed.

  “I let him in. I don’t know. I figured you guys rekindled or some shit.”

  “Why the hell would you think that?” I yelled.

  “Because things didn’t pan out with Mason,” she said.

  “Because you barged in on us!” I exclaimed.

  “Wasn’t my fault you opened the door!” she shouted.

  “Damn it, Frank!”

  God, if it wasn’t one thing, it was another. I didn’t have enough money to feed myself beyond tonight because I couldn’t say no to my fucking “friend” who was couch surfing and racking up my bills, and now my toxic ex wanted me to sign some stupid sheet of paper so he could probably talk about how shit I was in bed and all this crap on national television for the world to see.

  “Can you make dinner tonight?” I sighed.

  “Sure,” Frank said.

  I dragged myself into my room and let my tears fall. My mind was in overdrive, and I couldn’t think straight, and I had no idea how I was going to approach Jason. It made me sick that he’d even come here, much less stepped foot back into this apartment, and I knew then and there that Frank had to go.

  But first, I had to figure out whether or not I was going to sign that release.

  Chapter 9

  Mason

  I couldn’t get my mind off her. We bantered through most of my lunch while I sat out on the restaurant’s open veranda, but she dropped off the planet, probably because of work. I cursed myself for not knowing what it was she did for work, but then again, that wasn’t the arrangement. We met up, we hooked up, she came hard twice, and then we parted ways.

  But she did message me to tell me she had a good time, and that had resulted in conversation that seemed easy and natural. Usually, when I talked to the women around me, it was forced and uneasy. Hell, even talking with my mom nowadays felt forced and uncomfortable.

  Every time I talked with her, Eva’s name came flying out of her face, and what the fuck was I supposed to do with that? Sure, Eva was beautiful in a classical, trophy-wife kind of way. But, not Ash. She was luscious and sweet, and those curves held miles of depth I could sink into at any given moment.

  Not any given moment. Just that one time. But damn it, I really wanted another go.

  “Hey there, Mase!”

  I ripped myself from my thoughts while my half-full plate of food was getting cold. Winston was walking up with his hand in his pocket and a sucker sticking out of his face. He sat down across the table from me before he crossed his leg over his thigh.

  “How’d last night go?” he asked.

  “Oh, hold on.” I reached into my pocket and dug around for his keys, and I slid them over the table before they fell into his lap.

  “Thanks for the warning me about the dog, you little shit. Since when did you own a hairy rat?”

  I watched Winston’s eyes grow wide before he threw his head back in laughter. “Holy fuck, what did it look like?”

  “Like a hairy rat bastard, you dick. Why didn’t you tell me you locked your science experiment up in your room?”

  “Oh man, that’s the neighbor’s dog. He tunnels between apartments sometimes and gets in through the window.”

  “You’re on the second floor, Mase.”

  “Didja even bother to look out the window? I’m at the side and there’s a ladder that scales both sides of the building. You know, in case of a fire.”

  “You mean to tell me some nasty, smelly dog digs underneath a fence and scales two flights of metal steps until he gets to your apartment?”

  “Usually, he doesn’t make it up that far because my neighbors keep their windows open. They must’ve not been home.”

  Tears were brewing behind Winston’s eyes while he tried to keep a lid on his laughter, and I just couldn’t believe it.

  “Oh my god, that’s priceless. All right, so did it happen. How was it?”

  “Yes, it happened,” I bit. “And it was really nice.”

  “Right on, Mase! I’m proud of you. How’d it feel to step out of your comfort zone?”

  I wanted to tell him it felt great. I wanted to tell him I wanted to see her again and get to know her. I wanted to tell him that the women we surrounded ourselves with had nothing on Ash and how she talked and how she walked and how she felt.

  But something told me Winston already knew that shit.

  “You gonna see her again?” Winston prodded.

  “What’s the point? I’m supposed to marry Eva, right? What’s the point of starting a relationship if it’s only gonna fail?”

  “Dude. Your mother doesn’t run your life. Just tell her you don’t wanna marry the ice queen.”

  “The ice queen?” I asked.

  “You mean you’ve never noticed how Eva’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes?”

  “The fuck are you talking about?” I asked.

  “Sir, would you like anything?” the waitress asked Winston.

  “Just some water is fine.” He smiled up at her.

  “I mean, just take a look at her the next time she smiles. Her cheeks move, but her eyes don’t. Gives me the creeps.”

  “Jesus,” I breathed.

  “Anyway, you should come out with me tomorrow night. There’s this show-play-thing in town, and it’s supposed to be pretty cool. Got some sort of funky vibe going on,
and a new band will be there doing the music.”

  “I don’t know. We can see. I’m supposed to meet my mom for dinner tomorrow night.”

  “Then come after dinner!” Winston said before he grabbed his glass of water. “It’ll be fun! We gotcha this far. Let’s keep going!”

  “We’ll see,” I said.

  Honestly, it didn’t really sound like my scene, and I didn’t know if I wanted to step back into town and risk seeing Ash. I didn’t really know where she went to hang out, and that thought made me feel even worse.

  I didn’t know shit about this woman I couldn’t get out of my head.

  “Well, just keep it in the back of your mind. Enjoy your dinner with the ice queen.”

  “I’m not having dinner with Eva, I’m having dinner with my mother,” I said.

  “I know.” Winston winked. “Catch ya later!”

  I admired Winston’s ability to throw caution to the wind. Lord knows his mother was in the middle of a heart attack every time I saw her. She knew exactly what he was doing, and they threatened to take his fortune away every time they encountered one another. But they never did, and he never stopped.

  I admired his ability to never stop.

  The next evening, I joined my mother for dinner. Winston’s ‘ice queen’ comment was rolling around in my head, and I couldn’t shake it, even when I sat down with her. Her fact was pulled taut with her latest face lift, and her cold eyes kept me in her vision the entire time we sat and ate.

  Dinner with my mother was like taking a test with a teacher: you ate, she evaluated you while she ate, and then at the end, she asked questions you needed to know all the answers to while she fed her two identical Pekingeses. People teased my mother because they looked just like her: she dyed her hair the same color blonde the dogs were, and she tied blue bows around their necks that matched the color of my mother’s eyes. But she didn’t care.

  “So, I was going over the itinerary for our Milan trip, and there are a couple of things I need to ask.”

  “Shoot, mother,” I said.