Wife for the Weekend

by Ophelia London

  “So is my dad.”

  Oh. Perhaps his parents’ popping in was a good thing. Dexter desperately needed to talk to his father.

  There isn’t much time if I’m going to catch my flight, he thought. Some things, though, are more important. He’d meant that in regard to Dad, and yet his eyes slid to Jules.

  “Like Dad cares,” Roxy said.

  “Jules, darling, may I have a brief word with you in private?” He nodded at the back door.

  “Certainly, darling dear.” She smiled and trotted inside, but rounded on him the second they were alone. “I adore your parents, Dex, but—”

  “Sorry. They do this.”

  “How are you gonna make your flight?”

  “I’ll tell them something—an emergency at the New York office.” Then he thought for a quick moment, a bit stunned by what he was about to propose. “Unless…”

  “Unless…?”

  “Unless I stay another day.”

  Jules’s jaw went a little slack, but that was the only alteration in her expression. For someone who prided herself on keeping her independence, no entanglements, she didn’t look as aghast as he’d expected.

  Why? Did she want him to stay?

  Since he currently sucked at reading women’s nonverbal communication, he’d have to just come out and ask—

  “Dexter? Juliet?”

  He’d have to ask later.

  Mom’s voice coming from the living room was singsong cheerful. “Knock knock.”

  “In here,” Dexter said in a monotone voice, eyes locked on Jules. “Don’t panic. We’ll figure it out.”

  She looked at the ceiling. “Comforting.”

  More of that dead-sexy sass he loved.

  Loved? Wait, not—

  “Hi, you two,” Mom said as she and Dad came into the kitchen.

  Jules immediately went to them, giving each a big hug and kiss. “Welcome,” she said with a bright smile. “We’re so glad you dropped by.”

  “Well now,” Dad said, looking around the room, keeping his hands in his pockets, “this is quite an unusual house, isn’t it? Unique.”

  “Thanks,” he and Jules said at the same time.

  “We’re happy here.” He put an arm around Jules and gave the top of her head a peck.

  “We sure are, honey bear,” Jules said, though it was clear to him she wasn’t comfortable.

  Was it because his parents were here? Or his impromptu suggestion about staying?

  Obviously, another day away from New York wasn’t the best solution for him. He had two weeks to get his ET life in order before he left the company. Additionally, each day this week had a built-in after-hours meeting with the small tech team he’d formed over the last few months. The team that would hopefully become the employees, cofounders of his own company.

  But first, they desperately needed this one last investor.

  “I was just putting on some coffee,” Jules said, filling the kettle at the sink while closing a drawer with her hip. “Would you like some?”

  “We’d love a cup,” Mom said.

  “Me, too!” Roxy exclaimed, sliding the screen door shut.

  Dexter caught his mother giving Dad a sharp look.

  “Ahem.” His father shifted his weight and coughed under his breath.

  “Dad,” Dexter said, grabbing the moment. “Can we talk a minute?”

  After a beat, Dad nodded, and Dexter gestured to the back door. As he crossed the room, he saw the way Jules was looking at him. He might not be an expert at reading expressions, but the openhearted concern on her face was unmistakable.

  Although she couldn’t have known the reason, somehow, she knew he was troubled. The pressure on his chest, along with the mixture of unnamed emotions swirling in his stomach, made him want to take her hand, squeeze it tight, and then tell her everything, his entire life story.

  Once outside, Dexter led his father to a pair of straight-backed padded lawn chairs at the end of the deck. For a long moment, they sat in heavy silence. Dexter knew full well this was his conversation to initiate, so he finally launched in.

  “I want to explain why,” he began.

  Dad only looked at him.

  “First, I apologize for springing it on you last week that I’m leaving ET. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, not seeking reasons to quit, per se, but knowing it would happen someday.”

  “Okay.” Dad nodded. “Do you have a plan?”

  “I do.” Dexter took a deep inhale. “At first, it was just an idea. Overseeing product management keeps me in the loop about what’s hot out there and how to market it. Lately, I’ve been spending more time with the design team. After a while, the idea I had grew into something tangible.” He paused and rubbed his palms together. “What the product is isn’t important. But it’s something I’m very passionate about.”

  “You should’ve brought it to me first.”

  “I did. You blew it off.”

  The moment Dexter said it, he regretted it. Sometimes, he could be blunter than was necessary. A trait he’d picked up from the man sitting across from him.

  Dad sat up straight. “That isn’t fair.”

  “A big part of me was glad you did. I’ve worked with you for nine years, but even before that, I knew what made you tick as a businessman. You built Elliott Tech from the ground up. Creating something completely your own.” He looked toward the lake. “I want that, too. I have for years.”

  “Why the rush? The technology boom has miles before it hits the ceiling.” Dad leaned forward and gave him that steady, paternal blue-eyed gaze. “This product of yours, do you have capital behind it?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Any investors?”

  “A few, but I’m meeting with a big one on Friday. That signature on the line will seal the deal.”

  “Dexter.” Dad shook his head, his voice grim, disapproving. “Do you understand what you’re walking away from? Salary, insurance, benefits, stability. You’re risking everything on an idea and one big meeting. That’s reckless.”

  “Maybe. But it’s my risk to take.”

  “Not anymore.” Dad turned toward the house. “You have a wife now. A family. Juliet’s a wonderful girl, and we’re happy you’re together, settled down. But let’s not pretend she can bring in even a quarter of what you’re giving up.”

  “Jules supports me,” he shot back. “Maybe not monetarily, but in every other way.”

  Right that second, he wanted to tell his dad the truth. And then—despite how Dad still didn’t get why Dexter was quitting ET—he wanted to ask for advice, answers to questions, such as: Why did his chest hurt and then fill with warm, soothing air when Jules was around? What did the nervous whirlpool in his stomach mean?

  “Well, I’ve said my piece.” Dad rose to his feet.

  Discussion over. Dexter dropped his chin, shoulders slumping in disappointment.

  “And I’m sorry, but I just don’t approve. I can’t.”

  “Okay,” Dexter replied. They were at an impasse. And even though it might be juvenile, at that moment, Dexter wanted more than ever to make his father proud. This meeting, yes, this one meeting had everything riding on it. If it went south, he’d have nothing and no one to fall back on.

  In silence, father and son returned to the house. When Dexter opened the door, there was a loud, lively conversation going on in the kitchen. Hearing Jules’s voice made his stomach do that…thing. Then another voice rang out, one he recognized but didn’t expect to hear in a million years.

  The blood in his veins turned to sharp shards of ice when he saw Quent Sanders cradling a mug of coffee in his kitchen—his house.

  “What’s going on?” he said, trying to keep his voice at a composed level.

  “Look who stopped in,” Roxy said with a great big smile.

  The guy must’ve had a death wish to stand so close to his sister. Among the other secrets, the shit Quent had done five years ago to seventeen-year-old Roxy was the w
orse secret Dexter was keeping. He’d always thought hiding the truth from Roxy—and everyone—was the right thing to do, but that was when she’d been away at college and had no contact with Quent.

  “Nice place,” Quent said, extending his hand to shake. Dexter didn’t want to be a dick in front of his mother, so he kept his mouth shut and shook Quent’s hand. “I didn’t actually plan on coming in, but I was driving through the neighborhood and saw all the cars.” He shrugged. “Thought I’d say hello, check to see how you’re settling in.”

  “Thanks again,” Jules said, but her voice sounded guarded, distrusting. His wife had excellent intuition.

  “I’m sure you’re always welcome,” Roxy said, beaming at him.

  Dexter did not like that. It was a good thing she’d be back at Rutgers in a few days. But even New Jersey didn’t seem far enough away.

  “Did you get everything worked out, hon?” Jules asked, handing Dexter a cup of coffee while giving him a subtle glance through her long lashes. The moment their eyes locked, he felt the connection they shared. Though it was new and unfamiliar to him, it was strong.

  “Yes,” he said, wanting the connection to last. “Thanks.”

  “Um, so, babe,” she added, lifting a smile so bright that he knew instantly it was fake. “Y-you’ll never guess what.”

  Dexter had an eerie feeling he didn’t want to know. “What?”

  Jules visibly swallowed and blinked rapidly. “Your mother’s throwing us our very own wedding party.”

  “Just the family,” Mom inserted.

  “Quent, too!” Roxy chirped.

  Over my dead body.

  “Nothing fancy,” Mom continued. “Jules even offered to have it right here.”

  Dex glanced at Jules. “She did, huh?”

  “We feel awful that we didn’t get to celebrate with you properly.” Mom added.

  Dexter lifted both hands, palms out. “That isn’t necessary—we understand. No party is needed.”

  “Nonsense,” Mom said, waving him off. “We’re doing it and that’s final.”

  He looked at Jules, and once again, they exchanged a panicked look disguised as happy smiles. “Well, thanks, then,” he said. “When?”

  If it was in a couple of weeks, he’d just have to fly back to Hershey. It would be a pain but he’d do it.

  “Tomorrow night,” Jules said, doing that toothy smile thing that meant she was about to start flushing like hell. “Isn’t that just…just great, sweetie?”

  At the news, Dexter’s stomach hit the floor. How could this get any more complicated? “Mom, seriously, you don’t have to—”

  “Dex,” Dad said in a stern voice, “your mother wants to give you this gift. Don’t insult her.”

  After all these years of working together, and even with the current tension between them, until now, Dad had never made Dexter feel like he was under his thumb, given him a direct order.

  “I know you have an important meeting in New York on Friday,” his father added. “And that you have other loose ends to tie up at the ET office, but I”—he cleared his throat—“I’d very much like it if you took the next two weeks off.”

  Dexter could only stare at him, openmouthed. When they’d talked outside, Dexter must not have expressed how vital the next month was—the next few days, particularly. How was he supposed to stay in Hershey for two weeks?

  “It’s not that I’m keeping you away from work,” Dad continued before Dexter could form a reply. “Every marriage needs to start with a proper honeymoon—if your marriage is important to you. Alone time is vital, er, or so your mother says, and I…I need you to accept this as a gift from me. To both of you, for your new life together.”

  Dexter was so touched by the uncharacteristic gesture, he didn’t know what to say. Two weeks alone in this house with Jules. His brain spun at how that might be—hypothetically. Before his imagination could take him too far, he figuratively held his head in his hands to stop the spinning.

  There was no way it could happen. But how could he break it to his father?

  Telling him the whole truth was the only way. But if he did so in front of sleaze bucket Quent Sanders, Jules would lose everything.

  Maybe, though, he could tweak his plan of flying out today and leave directly after the party. If his parents were serious about giving them alone time, they’d never know.

  In his head, he was calling colleagues to plan a conference call for this afternoon to discuss the adjustments and Friday’s meeting. It wasn’t close to being as sufficient as face-to-face, but it would have to do.

  Hold up. When he’d mentioned to Jules earlier that he’d thought about maybe staying, she’d seemed less than thrilled. This whole thing was still an act to her, and he’d misinterpreted everything—even his own feelings. What a damn fool.

  “Well then,” he said, sliding an arm around her, making himself feel nothing. “Thanks, Mom. We’re honored.” He hadn’t realized he’d pulled her so close to his side until he heard her breath rush out.

  By simply looking into her eyes, he knew her mind was whirring, trying to figure out why he’d agreed to the party. He had a new plan now—emotion-free—and he’d share it with her soon enough.

  Trust me, he said, sending his thoughts her way. Please, trust me.

  Surprisingly, her shoulders relaxed as she leaned in. Trusting him.

  Chapter Ten

  Jules wasn’t exactly honored, but Eileen Elliott was so darn sweet, Jules couldn’t help agreeing to the party. Besides, it would take a soul completely lacking of feelings to not sense tension between Dexter and his dad. Was there a disagreement they hadn’t settled?

  It was a little heartbreaking to think that. The whole Elliott family was so close. Maybe this party would be a good thing for Dexter.

  If that was the case, she’d willingly go along with it—even the two weeks of fake honeymoon if need be. She knew how much she owed Dex for not spilling the beans about their non-marriage when the truth would’ve made his life so much easier.

  Still, how could she possibly survive with him in her cottage for two weeks? She wasn’t so emotionally stunted that she didn’t realize she had feelings for him. Feelings that Dexter wouldn’t understand—because he’d never felt them. He was never with one woman long enough to feel anything but physically gratified.

  Didn’t he know there could be so much more?

  “Thank you,” she said, once the family was gone.

  “No need,” he replied as he picked up his phone and headed for the back door.

  While washing the rest of the dishes and wiping up the kitchen, Jules kept an eye on him. First he was sitting, then pacing, then sitting again, then he walked toward the lake, phone pressed to his ear the entire time.

  Was he talking to a woman? One of those other women in New York? How many were there? And could she ever compete?

  No. Because that was what Dexter wanted. No strings, no commitments, total freedom from entanglement. She used to think she wanted the same thing. Now she wasn’t sure.

  Taking her time, she wiped off the counter and hung up the dish towel, all the while feeling the spare bedroom staring at her as if it had eyes…each tube of oil color and every paintbrush called to her like voices from the dust, asking why she hadn’t come to see them in the three days since she’d been in Hershey.

  She’d been dreading this moment…longing for it, and dreading it.

  The time had come, though, even if made her stomach twist.

  After running her palms over her shorts, Jules went to the spare room. Behind the dresser and in the closet were her art supplies.

  She dragged out the paint-splattered and well-used heavy wooden easel, and then chose a brush, holding it to her nose. Sweet memories of Grams came flooding back. So many happy times.

  Normally, she’d spend the next few hours going through all her paintings and drawings, playing the remember game. For the past week, she’d been dying to paint—fearing to paint. There was n
o room for fear. The first-time-entries submission deadline for this year’s Mount Gretna Outdoor Art Show was at the end of the month.

  Butterflies fluttered in her stomach whenever she thought about entering. Grams was never in favor of arbitrary people or panels judging her art. Jules agreed vocally, but inside, she needed to know if she had what it took. For her whole life, she’d dreamed about being a professional artist. She’d even taken a huge leap of faith and quit her job, canceled her lease in Vegas, to move to Hershey full time in hopes of making it as a painter.

  The savings she’d been socking away would support her for maybe a year, even with the money from the bet, now earmarked for the renovation. That made her think of Dexter. How dare he tell her she was making a mistake by adding on to the house? She’d never dream of selling, so it didn’t matter if an art studio lowered its value.

  Feeling cross with him again made her feel good. It was how their relationship had started—except for the getting married part—and it was how it should remain.

  A heartbeat later, though, she found herself smiling at how hard he’d tried to hold those yoga poses this morning. She had to give him credit—he’d lasted a lot longer than she’d expected. If he’d do a few more sessions with her, he’d get better. More in tune. More flexible. More…

  Jules broke off her thoughts when she started biting her lip, imagining how an experienced guy like Dexter might use his flexibility.

  As she wandered into the living room, she shut her eyes and mentally thwapped the back of her head. No, he was an “experienced” guy for a reason, and may never be willing to change.

  A stack of old albums was stored between the wall and the bookcase. Jules pulled out the four on top—the ones she always went for first—carefully removed them from their ancient covers, then stacked them in order on the record player.

  The living room filled with music that brought back so many memories, for an instant, she almost couldn’t breathe. She wrapped her arms around herself until the sadness from loss was replaced by happiness.

  Before she knew it, she was swaying around the room, doing the waltz step Grams had taught her. Joy filled her heart, but sadness clung to the edges. It might never go away completely, and she’d have to find a way to live with it. After all, she’d lived her whole life feeling some kind of loss—this was nothing new. Not even with Dexter.