Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“Oh,” she says, and I hate the sadness in her voice. “You don’t have extended family?”
“Nope.” I head down the frozen foods aisle. “It was just me and my dad for the longest time. His parents passed when he was younger, and my mom’s family doesn’t talk to me because I chose to stay with my dad instead of going with her.”
“Where did she go?”
My chest seizes a bit, but she is my wife, and I should tell her. “She was in and out of my dad’s life a lot. She took me with her when I wasn’t old enough to fight her, but when I got older, I chose my dad instead of her.”
“Was she not good to you?”
I shrug, even though I know she can’t see me. “She was self-absorbed and only cared for herself and what she wanted. My dad was so concerned with trying to keep her, he didn’t really care for me until they were finally over.”
“That’s bullshit. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. Do you like berry smoothies or tropical?”
“Both?” I add both to the cart. “Can you tell me why no one likes her?”
My mouth goes dry, and my heart sinks in my chest. “She slept with most of the men in town,” I admit in a low voice, even though I just looked around to make sure I am the only one in the frozen foods aisle. “She cheated on my dad all the time, weekly sometimes. She was never happy here, and since he wouldn’t leave town with her like she wanted, she made it her goal to make him miserable and make him look weak. It was disgusting, and when I realized what was happening, I cut her off.”
“My goodness,” she breathes. “Is that why you don’t want to be married? Fear of that happening to you?”
My heart squeezes in my chest. “Yeah,” I lie, and I don’t feel bad for doing so. I’m not going to confess my insecurities to someone who will be gone in a year. There is no point.
“It’s understandable,” she says softly, and I wait for her to guarantee she’d never do that to me. But why would she? This is a means to an end. She doesn’t care for me. Or want me for longer than she has to be with me. We can be attracted to each other—and I love kissing her—but I will walk away. She deserves more than what I can offer her.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
“How about waffles?”
“Ew. I don’t like frozen waffles.”
“Noted. I’ll make you fresh ones,” I announce as I head to the pizza section. “Pizza for away game nights?”
“Sure.”
We go back and forth like this as I shop and she packs. It’s easy and, if I’m honest, fun. “Do you think your family will handle the news well?”
My wife scoffs. “Not at all. I expect pure mayhem. I got married before the two who are engaged, and they weren’t there. It won’t go over well. I don’t know if I want to lie and say we’ve been dating for a while or if I should just tell them the truth.”
That’s a good question. “I’ll go with whatever you want.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t think you can lie,” I admit, my stomach coiling in on itself. “Especially to the people you love.”
“But telling the truth could bring negative feelings toward you.”
I smile. “You don’t have to worry about that. People don’t like me. I’m used to it.”
“I like you,” she says with no hesitation. My heart stills in my chest as my smile widens. “I don’t like the idea of my family not liking you. I don’t want you guys to start off on the wrong foot. So I don’t know, I may fib and say we’ve been hooking up for a while, and when you said you needed a wife, I confessed I’ve been in love with you, and you confessed the same. Boom, we’re married.”
I feel like I’ve been hit in the chest by a thousand pucks.
What would it be like to be loved by Eliza McDavid… I mean Katz?
My voice is gravelly as I ask, “Will they believe that?”
“Yeah. Everyone knows I want to be in love.”
But I can’t love her.
I close my eyes as I grip the cart for support.
“Are you good with that?” she asks, and I open my eyes, feeling like my reputation.
A flaming bag of shit.
She’s risking so much for me.
“Yeah, that’s good with me.”
“Okay, I feel better,” she admits.
I refrain from telling her I feel like hemorrhoid-riddled butthole.
“I’m glad,” I say, and I mean it. “Do you want soda for the house?”
“No. I’d rather have tea.”
“Done,” I say, heading that way. “Okay, I’m going to grab that and then head out. Call me if you want me to come over and help.”