Working Back

by BJ Harvey

  Her lips part and she blinks rapidly, as if not believing what she’s hearing. “You’d let me drive your truck?”

  Now it’s my turn to be surprised. “Well, yeah. I added you to my insurance this morning because I know you haven’t had a chance to get a car yet and I don’t want you to feel like you’re trapped here.”

  She blinks again. “You…”

  “Yeah,” I say with a shrug. “It’s no big deal.” I leave it at that because it obviously means something to her—whatever that may be—and I don’t think delving into anything heavy is a good idea on the first day of this somewhat precarious living situation.

  More like I’m not ready to deal with it right now.

  Thankfully, she lets it go. “Okay, but there’s just one problem with that plan,” she says, biting her lip.

  “What now?” I sigh, making her lips turn up a little. She looks over my shoulder then back to me.

  “My purse… it’s in there.” She tentatively points into her bedroom, and all I can do is roll my eyes. She’s being cute as hell, but I’m not gonna let her know that—not yet. Don’t get me wrong—I have every intention of progressing forward in every way, but unlike my brothers, who are very much followers of the ‘hard and fast’ rule, I’ve always been a believer in ‘slow and steady’ wins the race.

  Doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun with this though. “Should I ask Incy Wincy to bring it out for me?” I try to keep a straight face, but her adorable growl and pursed lips make that feat impossible.

  “You’re an asshole when you wanna be,” she says, but there’s no malice in her tone.

  “Why, thank you,” I say, giving a small, exaggerated bow. “That’s quite a compliment.”

  “Bryant…” she says, sounding exasperated. “I’ll pick up Chinese takeout if you go get my purse.” Her voice takes on a soft, seductive tone, but she’s lured me with food. Damn her for knowing me so well.

  “Oh, all right.” I turn around and walk back in her room, my eyes glued to the floor. “Where is it?” I ask, looking over my shoulder and catching her gaze locked on my ass. Her eyes jerk up to mine.

  “Corner of the bed,” she replies, sounding innocent.

  I grab her purse, picking up her sunglasses while I’m there, and return to the hallway, handing them both over. “My keys are on the hook by the front door.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “I also got a set cut for you. I’m not sure whether you’ll need them or not but once we get you a car, you won’t be so reliant on anybody else for transport, so keys might come in handy.”

  Her eyes soften, and the gratitude I see in her gentle expression sparks that strange warm feeling in my chest again.

  She shoots me a short wave before walking out the front door with a quick, “bye, hubby.” There’s no missing the falter in her step when it hits her what she’s said or the fact that I also freeze stock-still at hearing her words.

  It seems far too easy and natural and—dare I say—domesticated, and it’s barely been five hours since she moved in.

  I watch her quickly run down the porch steps and hear my truck rumble to life not long after, yet five minutes later, I still find myself standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at the space where she was. Get yourself together, Cook.

  I shake my head and turn back toward her bedroom, noting she’s still as messy as she used to be. When I see a drawer left open in the dresser I bought her, silk, satin and lace fabric strewn in and halfway out of it, I put my blinders on and focus on the task at hand: bug check and spray the room. Then I need to get out of there without looking at anything that will give me images in my head I don’t need to have right now. Locate, eradicate, and then extricate.

  If only my emotions were as easy to manage.

  Bryant

  An hour and a half, three spiders plus babies, a can of bug spray, and another beer later, I’m sitting at one end of the couch, a box of orange chicken and a fork in my hands, facing Faith, who is cross-legged at the other end, holding her own takeout container in her lap. Some random quiz show plays on the television that sits on the floor. There are so many questions swirling around my head. I’ve spent the last ten minutes not saying anything while I try to decipher what ones I want answers to. Nothing heavy—they’re more at the ‘getting to know you again’ level. God, it’s crazy to think I promised marriage to someone I know nothing about. Who does that? Us, apparently. Maybe this was meant to be after all.

  “So—”

  “I was—”

  We both look at each other and laugh. I nod in her direction. “You first.”

  “I was wondering about the house. I mean, it definitely has its charm and all, but it’s not exactly gonna break selling records is it?” she says, waving her beer in a sweeping motion.

  I chuckle, reaching over to put my food on the table. Leaning back, I take a long swig of my beer.

  “So eighteen months ago—give or take—we bought our first house to flip with Jamie. Originally it was supposed to be his thing, but the more we helped out, the more into it the rest of us brothers got. This is house number five if we don’t count Jamie and April’s house, which they renovated for themselves. Together with your brother, we aim to redesign, renovate, and resell this place within three to four months before doing it all over again.”

  Her lips tip up. “It’s a big jump from teaching college students to renovating a house that looks like it’s about to fall over whenever the next wind blows,” she says with a giggle.

  “Someone’s been checking up on me.”

  “No!” she says, a little too defensively. When I narrow my eyes, she smirks and concedes with a small nod. “Oh all right, maybe, but asking Ezra doesn’t count.”

  I lean deeper into the couch, crossing my arms over my chest. “Your brother is as big of a gossip as Cohen, and that’s saying something.”

  She laughs, shaking her head. “I swear the information was volunteered freely… for the most part,” she mutters the last bit, her guilty expression making me chuckle.

  “What did Ez tell you about me?”

  “Not much.” She averts her eyes, looking like she’s absolutely riveted by a middle-aged woman jumping up and down trying to win the grand prize.

  “You were always such a shitty liar.”

  “Am not.”

  “Am too,” I say back, watching her purse her lips but failing to stop a sly grin making an appearance. “Looks like nothing has changed.”

  She rolls her eyes and turns back to face me. “You suck,” she retorts, poking her tongue out. She’s just as cute as she was the last time we shared takeout together on a small two-seater in our studio apartment in college. “I’m not exactly operating with all of the information I need here, Bry. It’s rare that you marry someone without knowing things like their job, their living situation, and what they’ve been up to for the last twelve years.”

  “Arranged marriages?”

  She tilts her head. “Is that what this is?”

  “We could liken it to one, except I was the one who arranged it, and—”

  “There’s no dowry,” she adds with a wry smile, her eyes dancing with amusement.

  “Damn,” I say, pretending to smack my forehead. “I knew I should’ve added that to the prenup.” She gasps loudly, but I know she’s not offended. Her quiet laughter says it all. “Yeah, you missed your opportunity there.”

  “So, what would you like to know?” I ask, more than prepared to answer any question she throws at me. I made a promise to myself that I wasn’t going to hide anything from her.

  “About you?”

  “Yeah. I’m an open book. Ask away.”

  “Okay, let’s start with your job. What do—or were—you teaching? Ezra told me you’ve taken a sabbatical.”

  I swallow a mouthful of my drink and cradle the bottle in my hands. “Condensed version?”

  “Honest version,” she counters, meeting me dead in the eye, her expression givin
g me nothing to go on.

  “There’s one thing you can always count on, Faith. I’ll always be honest. I’ve never had to be anything but with you, and I’m not about to start lying now.”

  She presses her teeth against her bottom lip and nods.

  “Okay. So condensed but honest,” I say with a half-smirk. “Masters, Ph.D. in Computational Biology. I’m on the tenure track but heard an important person from my past was coming back to Chicago, and it made me reevaluate.” I break our stare and look around the room. “I was driving down this street to get to the next neighborhood over and saw the foreclosure sign. I called Jamie. A week later, we put in a cash offer and came up with plans to completely do it up, modern farmhouse style.”

  “How does that fit in with you taking a sabbatical?”

  “I’ve been studying and working non-stop for a long time now. This re-evaluation came at a time when I was close to burnout and in need of a break.”

  “So working on this bag of bones,” she says, sweeping her hand in the air, “is how you want to spend your break?”

  “Hey,” I say, acting offended. It’s always the way when anyone views the houses we buy before we start work on them. “You haven’t seen the magic we can work. I’ll take you around to Jamie and April’s place when they get home. You’ll be amazed, I swear.”

  She nods and places her food on the floor beside the couch. She pulls her legs up, wrapping her arms around them, her beer bottle hanging loosely from her fingers. What happened this afternoon has eased any tension between us. I’m not foolish enough to believe that it won’t be there again tomorrow, or next week, or for however long this lasts until reality pops our little bubble. My only hope is that for as long as we’ve got, I get the chance to show her—and also experience—what our lives could have been like.

  “Bry?”

  I blink twice and focus on her. “Sorry?”

  “I asked about this place.

  “I’m guessing Ez has been gossiping, and you’re looking for confirmation?” I ask.

  She laughs and shakes her head. “Am I that obvious? I could never get anything past you.”

  “Still can’t, it seems.”

  She narrows her eyes, but her curved lips give her away. “I swear I’ll succeed one day. It’s not fun if you can’t surprise someone occasionally.”

  “You can try. Doesn’t mean I think you’ll get there though,” I say with a chuckle.

  “Just you wait, mister.” She shakes her finger at me.

  “Bring it on,” I say with a grin, feeling more relaxed than I have in weeks. “So how about you? Have you got some job interviews lined up?”

  “Ah… so about that…”

  “Yes…?”

  “I actually already have a job. I had a final interview the day after I arrived, and I’m due to go in this Friday to do all the necessary HR stuff.”

  I lean forward, catching myself doing it without even realizing. “So you actually were staying?” I tease, my mouth quirking up.

  “I really was.” She laughs, her amusement infectious.

  I lean back into the couch corner and pin her with a stare. “Tell me about this job,” I say, taking another drink of my beer.

  “It’s nothing big. It’s just—”

  “You’ve been working hard your entire life, Faith. Don’t undersell yourself now.” I see the moment my words hit home, her body tensing for a second before she lets it go and relaxes again.

  “It’s a newly created population biology research position at Lincoln Park Zoo.”

  “Wow. Congratulations. That’s what you always wanted. Working with animals and coming up with new ways to protect them, and at your favorite zoo.”

  Her gaze softens. “You remember? I can’t even think how old I was when I first went there.”

  “I may not know when you first went, but I do remember when we went together at fourteen. It was around the time I was trying to build up the nerve to tell my best friend I was in love with her. I begged Jamie to lend me some money, and had to do his chores for two weeks to pay him back.” Faith giggles, covering her mouth with one hand.

  “Now I know when you’re talking about because Jamie made you do more than your fair share. Didn’t he add in extra jobs like washing the cars and clearing out the gutters?” she asks. “I didn’t realize why you were doing it at the time. I just figured you had gotten into trouble and that was your punishment.”

  “Well, that too. I didn’t exactly tell Mom and Dad where we were going, and when Cohen let it slip, I got reamed out when I got home.”

  She frowns. “Why don’t I know any of this?”

  I dip my chin, fighting hard against the grin. If I were still that nerdy teenager, I’d be embarrassed. Now, as a man with enough years under his belt, I can look back and see how ridiculous I acted before Faith and I got together. “Because the things I came up with to try and get your attention were so dumb. It’s a wonder I didn’t get grounded more than I did.”

  “But Jax was the one who was always getting in trouble.”

  I chuckle at that. “It was a pretty even split between him and me, and he’d often take the heat for me too.”

  Her brows bunch together. “Why would he do that?”

  “’Cause he’s a hopeless romantic?” I deadpan, adding in a shrug for good measure.

  Faith rolls her eyes. “And I’m the queen of England. Back then, the most romantic Jax ever got was asking girls if they needed a free breast exam, and telling them he needed volunteers.”

  I snort, trying to stifle my laughter but failing. That ruse got Jax around more bases than a hitter at an all-star game. He was a legend around school for our whole freshman year.

  “Jax was always the president of the Bryant and Faith fan club.”

  She snorts. “Are you serious?”

  My grin widens. “You ask next time you see him.”

  “I’m so doing that. I thought for sure he didn’t like the fact I broke up the famous Cook twins.”

  I shake my head. “He knew more than anyone how far gone I was for you, even before you threw yourself at me.”

  Her mouth drops open, her eyes wide. “I thought for sure he’d hate me.”

  For breaking my heart.

  It’s probably time for a change in topic. There’s no way I want to go down the road of reliving past decisions on our first night in our new—albeit temporary—home.

  “When do you start work?” I ask.

  “Next Monday. I wanted a week to get settled into Chicago life and…”

  “Married life?” My smirk is huge.

  “Something like that,” she says dryly. “Although, that particular detail wasn’t exactly anticipated.”

  “I bet it wasn’t.” My eyes fall to her left hand, my ring on her finger where it should’ve been for years.

  Silence stretches between us and my eyes drift to the television. I finish my beer and lean over to place the empty bottle on the ground.

  I turn my head, watching her watch the game. It can’t be this easy. There should be anger, hurt, a mountain of resentment that I should be struggling to overcome. But seeing her like this—still being the Faith I knew—I can’t be anything other than grateful. To what extent that feeling goes is still unknown.

  “Got any plans tomorrow?” she asks softly, grabbing my attention. My eyes lift to hers, knowing she would’ve caught me watching her.

  “I think the guys are coming over in the afternoon so we can come up with a plan of attack for demolition. The contractors turn up on-site at seven a.m. Monday morning. Why’s that?”

  “Would you like to come car shopping with me next weekend? I’ll probably use public transport more often than not since that’s what I’m used to from living in Sydney, but a car would still be nice for when I need to see Mom and Dad and Delilah, and probably Ez too.” Her eyes brighten when she talks about her family. Another thing she missed out on while she was away. Mr. and Mrs. Baker did fly Down Under to see her whi
le she was still studying, but there’s a huge difference between talking on the phone and being able to see the people you love in the flesh. It definitely heals old wounds.

  “Sounds fun. We can head out Saturday morning if you want. Maybe get some lunch while we’re out.”

  “Yeah. It’s a date,” she replies, her eyes softening.

  We fall into comfortable silence again

  “Regret saying yes yet?” I tease.

  “Nope. You helped me move in, saved me from Incy Wincy, let me feed and water you after driving that monster you call a truck,” she says with a grin, lifting her beer bottle into the air. “And you let me off providing a dowry for our arranged marriage. I’d say for our first full day of married life, you’re ending it a winner.”

  My gaze roams her face before fixating on those lips of hers, remembering how they felt against mine when the priest announced I could kiss my bride. It doesn’t matter how uncertain we might have felt in that moment—there was no way I was going to let our wedding ceremony pass without sealing it with a kiss. My ring is on her finger, she’s living under the same roof as me, and maybe—okay, hopefully—one day soon, we’ll share the same bed.

  Taking her in—same brown hair just a little longer, crystal green eyes wise with experience, a body she’s definitely more comfortable in than she used to be, and a smile that still has the power to render me speechless—one thing is clear. Irrespective of any unresolved emotions and feelings either of us still have to unpack and process in the coming weeks and months, I’m resolute in the decision I made that led us here.

  I’ve always believed slow and steady wins the race.

  If waiting twelve years proves anything, it’s that I’m a patient man.

  And if car shopping and lunch is our first date as a married couple, then I’m gonna make sure it’s the best first date this husband and wife ever have.

  Faith

  “Hello?”

  “Bakes, it’s Delilah.”