Page 17 of Paper Roses

“Oh. Of-of course,” I stutter.

He pulls back but doesn’t make any effort to talk. Instead, he fidgets with the car heater so that it blows pleasantly against me.

“Your hands were cold,” he says.

“Thank you. It’s not been a nice summer, but I’m always cold anyway.”

I wait for him to say something else but get nothing. The silence is cosy, though, and the scent of his cologne and the underlying aroma that’s just Jed is warm and arousing.

I cough and then twist to face him, pulling my jacket over my lap. “What’s the matter?” I ask. “Is it about tomorrow?”

Tomorrow.We’re getting marriedtomorrow.

The thought is strange and thrilling.

He grimaces as if he’s inhaled a bad smell. “What couldpossiblybe bothering me about getting married tomorrow?” he asks snappishly.

I draw back, astonished. We’ve had many meals together over the last three weeks, ironing out the details of how we met and our lives together in case we’re asked by the solicitor. The situation is far from ideal, but I can’t remember a time when Jed has ever snapped at me.

He groans and rubs his eyes tiredly. “I’msosorry. That was rude.”

I make myself shrug. “It’s fine. You’re doing this for me, after all. You’re entitled to be cross at the upheaval in your life.”

“I’m not cross withyou,”he says instantly. He reaches out and cups my chin in his hand, his gaze scanning my features. “I couldneverbe cross with you,” he says with emphasis. “This is no more your fault than mine. We’re doing this together, and we’re a team, Artie. No more taking the blame for it and trying to make amends to me.”

“I haven’t…” I sag against the seat when he shoots me a knowing look.

“You’ve been extra sweet. An impossible task, because you were already ninety-nine percent sugar.”

I smile at him. “What about the other one percent?”

“Ah, that’s what worries me.”

We laugh and then fall silent.

“It’s not too late to back out, Jed,” I say. “No one knows, and I wouldneverblame you.”

“Sweetheart, you’ve offered me more exits than the M1.”

Sweetheart?I widen my eyes.

He grimaces. “Sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

I’ll never be able to tell him how much I liked it. He’d vanish into a puff of smoke and angst. I don’t want to make this awkward. Well, any more awkward than it already is.

He’s been getting progressively antsier this week as the appointment at the registry office comes closer. Before I can second-guess myself, I take his hand and gaze into his eyes. “This is a serious thing, Jed. You’re lying to a solicitor to help me get a house under false pretences. That’s got to be either borderline or full-on illegal.” I take a breath. “I’ve been thinking?—”

“Nothing good usually comes from that statement.”

“It’s hardly surprising you think so, having met some of the men you’ve had passing through your flat.”

“What?”

I grimace. I hadn’t meant to say that. “I do meet them, you know.”

A flush appears on his cheeks, and he shifts awkwardly in his seat. “How?”

“Well, I’ve made quite a few of them coffee, because according to them, you’re not exactly Starbucks.”

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