The Closer: A Marriage of Convenience Romantic Comedy

by Kristy Marie

  “And they will not withhold themselves from each other.”

  I don’t have time to brace for the delicious intrusion as Cooper plunges inside me, my breath caught in a gasp as he ruts in and out of me like a husband who can’t get deep enough inside his wife.

  Cooper is manic as his hands rake over every inch of my exposed flesh, nipping and lavishing it like he’s a starved man.

  If you would have asked me my thoughts on marriage a year ago, I would have said it was something you did when the fun wore off and you needed a roommate to pay fifty percent of the bills. Never would I have told you that I’ve never felt so honored, so wholly full that the thought of divorcing my husband makes me physically sick.

  If Cooper Lexington was trying to break me, he just did.

  “Look at me.” One hand wraps around my waist while his finger presses against my clit.

  “I want you to see what I see.” His free hand grips my chin, forcing my eyes on him, a beautiful angel. “I see a woman so full of light that even hardships can’t dim her spirit. I see her body swollen with a miracle that I’m not deserving to experience. I see a woman who loves all people without fault, even though she considers herself less than.”

  My knees go weak as he pumps furiously from behind. “But she would be wrong.”

  Tremors start in my legs, my muscles clenching in my lower belly.

  “Because my wife is nothing short of extraordinary.”

  His finger presses harder on the tight bundle of nerves at my core. I can feel he’s close, he’s waiting on me, and when he whispers reverently in my ear, “It’s an honor to call you mine,” I explode, with him following behind me.

  I don’t bother covering up as I roll over, propping my head on my hand. “I’ve heard an orgasm is the best way to fall asleep quickly.”

  He grins, just barely, just enough to be boyish, his eyes a lot more awake than they were a few minutes ago. “It seems like you’re trying to give me a reason to stay awake.” He nods to my tits against the sheets.

  “I’m just wondering why you’re still awake after—” I shrug and grin, “all that hoot and sword play.”

  He barks out a laugh, and I’m quick to use it to my advantage, scooting in close and pressing a soft kiss on his lips while trailing a finger down the scruff of his jaw. “What causes your insomnia?”

  He chooses to ignore me, his mouth opening slightly as he kisses me again, urging me closer as his tongue slips in—foreign, yet so comfortable.

  After a moment, I pull back. “Let me be a good wife. Tell me how I can help your insomnia.”

  I realize I’m being a hypocrite. I want Cooper to let me help him with his problems, yet I fight him at every turn when he tries to help me with mine. “You’ve been so kind to me by taking on my burden and pretending to be the father of my baby, without even knowing what exactly happened to the father.”

  He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  But it does.

  Even when I couldn’t look at my baby on the ultrasound, the ultimate sin of a mother, Cooper didn’t look at me any differently. In fact, he acts like I’m more amazing than anyone he’s ever encountered.

  But we all know Cooper is just a big old softie. I mean, come on, he takes care of his grandfather for goodness’ sake. He worries about everyone but himself. I also know he’s been paying my rent on my apartment. Pops and I went one day, so I could pay down some of the back-rent, but the landlord just seemed confused, telling me that I was all caught up, which was clearly wrong since I’ve been staying with Cooper since we married.

  “It matters to me, Cooper. It matters to me that you would tarnish your reputation by pretending to be the father of my baby. It matters that my husband, who takes care of everyone else, refuses to take care of himself.”

  The man that the media doesn’t know and batters fear, pulls me close. “You matter to me, Mrs. Lexington, and that’s the only thing you need to remember.”

  “I’m not dropping the matter. Not until you tell me what keeps you up at night.”

  He sighs. “Everything. I don’t know.”

  “Oh, well, now everything makes so much sense.”

  If he thinks I won’t be persistent, then he better brace himself. I cut him a look. “Do you worry about Pops?”

  It’s the most logical choice.

  “Sometimes.” He frowns.

  “But…”

  I pull at the blankets, a warning in my eyes that my boobs will soon be covered if he doesn’t speak up.

  “It started after Pops had a stroke.” He stops my hands, tugging the covers back down so he can palm my tit.

  “And,” I prod, earning an exasperated look.

  “And I was young. The only man who has ever given a shit about me nearly died from a blood clot. Life became real—a measured timeline. I didn’t want to waste a minute with Pops or years in college when all I wanted to do was play baseball and shoot the shit with my crotchety, old best friend.”

  I almost argue that statement, but since he’s opening up, I let him have the BFF comment.

  “So I started packing in everything I could into the hours I had. I would never let Pops see how much time it took me to pre-plan meals or clean up the house. It didn’t matter. I could handle everything.”

  His hand gives my tit a firm squeeze. “I never needed that much sleep anyway, but when I knew I wanted to play pro ball, I knew I would have to sacrifice time and sleep if I wanted to keep Pops and baseball in my life.”

  “Not that I don’t love the old man or find you completely endearing, but don’t you have a brother?”

  “I do, and he’d drop everything for me and Pops.”

  “So why don’t you let him help you?”

  Cooper lets out a deep breath. “Because he’s sacrificed enough for us. It was my turn to take one for the team.”

  Cooper

  “Last call for bets.”

  McKinley—as predicted—gave me a big, fat, hell no when I finally asked her about the joint gender reveal party, which disappointed Ainsley about a fraction of a second before she got sidetracked with the idea of a poker-themed reveal and hung up on me.

  It’s a ridiculous theme, I know, but it makes my sister-in-law seriously happy.

  “You want to re-up your bet?” I ask, carefully watching for any signs of distress.

  I wasn’t sure McKinley would even want to come considering she was thirty weeks pregnant and stayed hot and uncomfortable on most days. But she insisted on supporting Ainsley and Maverick, though she doesn’t know either of them very well. “It’s important to you, therefore it’s important to me,” she had said when I offered up her staying home and Pops and I going to Georgia alone.

  “No, I’ll stick with what I have.” McKinley flashes me a smile that seems genuine.

  She’s been busy since we’ve arrived. Ainsley pulled her away, threatening to cut me if I didn’t let go of Mac’s hand and allow her to show off her new sister-in-law. But now that Ainsley is firmly secured in Maverick’s arms, his hands resting protectively around her belly, I have my wife back to myself.

  “Do you need to re-up yours?” she returns, as we watch Ainsley motion to a blackboard, where a running bet of the baby’s sex is displayed.

  “Already did.” Grinning, I add, “My brother expects nothing less than to win a bet against me.”

  She chuckles. “What do you think the baby is?”

  Over the course of this extremely lavish back yard party, I’ve seen Mac’s smiles go from fake to real. She’s actually enjoying herself. And when Maverick and Ainsley sit down at the poker table, a deck of playing cards between them, her smile at the excitement of the reveal is wider than I’ve ever seen it.

  “It’s a girl.”

  My brother, though I love him dearly, has thrived since Ainsley came into his life; he deserves nothing less than the headache of looking out for women who will defy him every chance they get.

  “I think it’s a boy,�
� McKinley offers with a shrug. “But I’m just guessing.”

  “We’re all guessing—or at least hoping—Mav gets what he deserves.”

  The crowd goes quiet when Maverick picks up the cards and deals out two cards to each of them. Though Mav’s game of preference is poker, it looks like he and Ains are playing blackjack.

  “All right, you two,” Sebastian, Maverick’s best friend, announces, a clear green visor sitting atop his head. “Pick up your cards and turn the applicable ones over.”

  Sebastian rigged the cards, per Ainsley’s specifications, so they could flip them over, each with handwritten words that will let them know the baby’s sex.

  “Ainsley.”

  My sister-in-law smothers a smile as she lays down the card where the word “It’s” is scribbled onto the white of the card in black Sharpie, something my brother does to her all the time in forms of IOUs. “Hit me, Bash.”

  Sebastian slides a card to Ainsley, face down on the felt table. She puts her palm over it, waiting.

  “Mav.”

  Unlike the times Maverick plays real poker, his face isn’t stony or hard. Instead, his eyes flick back and forth between Ainsley and the card in his hand. He taps it on the table and tosses it, face-up, to the center with the word “A” scrawled out in the same handwriting. “Hit.”

  Again, Sebastian slides another card, this time to Maverick. “On my count, show your cards.”

  Everyone starts counting down from five, and McKinley’s hand tightens in mine, her breath hitching just as the crowd gets to one and Maverick and Ainsley flip over their cards, revealing in pink Sharpie the word, “Girl!”

  “You were right!” McKinley jumps up and down and throws her hands around my neck as my brother kisses his wife then the little girl in her belly.

  “I can’t believe you were right!”

  I chuckle and kiss the space underneath McKinley’s ear. “I had a fifty percent chance of being right.”

  She swats my shoulder. “You know what I mean. I could have sworn your scary brother would be having a boy.”

  “My scary brother is just a big, old softie,” I tell her, which has her turning, watching as my brother ignores the entire party, insisting on kissing his wife and whispering in her ear things I doubt any of us want to hear.

  “Their baby is really lucky to have them as parents.”

  I pull her back to stare into her eyes. “I’m sure their child is lucky, but even if it were just my sister-in-law or just Maverick raising that child, it wouldn’t mean that she would be loved any less. Perfect parents don’t exist, Mac. Neither do perfect families. Just because we’ve been fed that families are made up of a mom and dad, two kids, and a dog, doesn’t mean the fantasy is for everyone.”

  I touch her stomach. “This little one is just as lucky to have a mom who would marry a stranger just to make sure he or she stayed healthy.” I push my forehead to hers. “That tells me this child’s mom would sacrifice whatever she had to make sure he was taken care of. That’s what love is all about. That’s what being a parent is made of. Love and sacrifice. Don’t let others’ lives twist you into thinking you’re somehow not good enough because you didn’t fall into a specific bucket the media said you should be in.”

  “You really believe that?”

  I kiss her mouth. “Every word.”

  “Cooper?”

  The bedroom door opens, and I lift my head.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ll come back later. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “It’s fine. I was finished.” Pulling myself up from where I had been kneeling, I turn to face her. “What’s wrong?”

  She stares at me for a moment, hesitating. “Were you—never mind. If you’re not busy, I’d like to see you and Pops outside.”

  It’s been a week since we’ve returned from my brother’s. Mac has been somewhat reserved, but for the most part, pretty normal. Except now. “Sure, I’ll get Pops and meet you out there.”

  Mac nods and mutters a quiet, “Thank you,” before disappearing.

  It takes me a few minutes to convince Pops to pause the evening news and slip on some shoes, but he eventually does, and we join Mac outside as the sun begins to set.

  “All right, Macaroni. We’re both out here sweating our balls off in this heat. What is it that you need to tell us that you couldn’t do in the air conditioning?”

  It’s then I realize this is no laughing matter as I spot two shoeboxes in front of Psalms, my wife’s head bowed.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I tell her, realizing what she’s about to do.

  “Yes, I do. Pops deserves to know the truth. You both do.”

  Pops flashes me a concerned look. “What’s she talking about, Coop?”

  McKinley steps forward and takes my grandfather’s hand, a lone tear streaking down her face. “Your grandson is an extraordinary man.”

  Her voices cracks and I take a step toward her.

  “Don’t,” she warns. “Let me do this.”

  Standing still, watching the pain etched in my wife’s expression as she stands there alone is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.

  “Pops, this baby is not Cooper’s. He didn’t knock me up.”

  The old man scoffs. “No shit.”

  Mac rears back. “You knew? How?”

  Pops turns his head, side-eyeing me. “Because before you, that boy hadn’t seen pussy since prom.”

  “Pops!”

  “Don’t act all offended, Cooper. You haven’t left my side since I woke up in the hospital and found you on your knees, praying at my bedside. You’ve made it your personal mission to be up my ass so much, neither of us can get any.”

  I groan, fighting off scarring images of a naked Pops. “I still could have been getting laid at away games—” My eyes go to Mac and find her grinning. “Not that I was. I’m just saying it’s possible.”

  Pops grunts. “No, it isn’t. I check your phone all the time. The only calls you make are to me, Aspen, Ainsley, and Mav.” He shrugs. “And now, Mac.”

  “You’ve been checking my phone?” I cannot believe the lack of privacy in this house.

  “What else am I supposed to do? I can only take so much of The Weather Channel.”

  “I don’t know, find a hobby.”

  “I have. I enjoy combing through my grandson’s lack of texts and videoing unsuspecting thieves with my deer camera.”

  “I don’t even know what to say to that other than checking my phone is highly inappropriate.”

  Pops shrugs. “Just as inappropriate as you and Mac lying to me about why you got married.”

  I open my mouth and close it. What can I say other than he’s right—which he does not need to hear right now.

  “You’re right,” McKinley adds, her voice trembling. “We should have never lied to you. I’m sorry. I never wanted to disappoint you. You’ve been such a good friend all this time, and the thought of losing you scared me into silence and letting Cooper take the blame for my situation.”

  “Aww, Mac.” Pops pulls McKinley in his arms. “You could never do anything to lose our friendship. We’re family.”

  McKinley starts crying, and it takes all I have to let Pops comfort my wife. “But—” She sniffles. “You don’t know the rest.”

  “You’re talking to a man that raised two boys. Nothing, sweetheart, could be as bad as some of the shit they put me through.” Pops flashes me a grin. “Ain’t that right, Coop?”

  “I plead the fifth.” McKinley doesn’t need to know all the dumb shit Maverick and I did as teenagers.

  “Come on, let’s sit down.” Pops leads Mac back over to Psalms where the two boxes await. “Coop, grab us some chairs.”

  I do, dragging two from the deck and sitting them in front of Mac and Pops.

  “I owe you both an explanation,” McKinley says, sitting stiffly.

  “No, you—”

  “I do, Cooper. You can’t always protect me. You deserve to know wh
o you’re living with, who you protect on a daily basis.”

  I’m so in love with this woman that she could be a serial killer and I’d still protect her. Though, I have to admit, I am curious to know everything about who she is and what’s happened in her life to shape the person she is today.

  McKinley pulls in a shaky breath, and I lower myself to the ground, kneeling in front of her. “Nothing you can say will make me love you any less.”

  A sob bursts from her chest. “I killed my baby’s father.”

  Cooper

  “I’m sorry. You what?”

  Pops seems to have recovered his speech faster than me.

  “I killed him,” she repeats, her head buried in her hands. “Griffin and I lived at the same foster house.”

  “How’d you kill him?”

  McKinley lifts her head, the tears ceasing for just a moment.

  “Pops! Hush.”

  “You used the wrench, didn’t you?”

  Mac chokes. “No, it wasn’t the wrench.”

  “I take it back, I can be disappointed in you, Macaroni.”

  Heaven help me. I look at McKinley, rubbing soothing circles over her thigh. “Ignore him.”

  Mac smiles, Pops’s crude statement seemingly lightening the tension. “Brenda, my foster mom, was my high school teacher. She had fostered Griffin and his brother, Chris, for years, until she took me in too. Griffin and I immediately hit it off, preferring to spend our time together on what Griffin called adventures—which were basically hikes in the woods where he pretended to see waterfalls and historic landmarks.” She shrugs, her voice cracking with emotion. “Griffin swore when he got older, he would hike every mountain and visit every monument. And for a while, he did, dropping out of school, and leaving me Lu when I turned sixteen. I didn’t speak to him much after that, as he worked odd jobs, only calling me whenever he could pay his phone bill.”

  She takes a breath and looks me in the eyes. “Then Brenda got sick. Chris was older than Griffin and just a few years earlier, had received a scholarship to college and spent all his time there. I was alone as my last family member wasted away from cancer.”