Page 83 of Beyond the Stroke

I clear my throat loudly. “Okay, so you said this place has two bedrooms?”

Rory sets the painting back down on the dresser, and I follow him across the hallway. He opens the door to the room, revealing a smaller bedroom.

But there’s no bed inside it.

Instead, there’s a large easel in front of the window facing the beach. There’s also a small work table, a supply organizer with drawers, and a couple shelves for storing canvases.

“What is this?” I ask, the shock evident in my voice.

“Your studio.”

My head whips around to look at Rory.Does he know?

“Rory.”

He shrugs. “Call it a wedding gift.”

“For our fake wedding?”

“The wedding was real. The marriage is fake.”

“You know what I mean.”

I don’t know what this room used to be, but it definitely wasn’t an art studio.

“Why did you do this?” I ask, still in shock.

“I want you to be happy here. You said painting makes you happy.”

He motions to the opposite corner of the room.

“My cold plunge is still in here, so I’ll need to use it from time to time.”

As thrilled as I am to finally have a dedicated space to paint, I’m just as nervous Rory might find out I’m the Covey artist. The anonymity has given me more confidence in my art. It’s allowed me to put my art out in the world without being tied to it and risk the kind of judgment I received in the past.

“Wait. There’s only one bed in your house?” My head whips back in his direction. “So where am I supposed to sleep?”

He motions across the hall. “With me.”

The idea of sleeping next to my husband shouldn’t be surprising, but it still throws me.

“Rory…”

“We slept together in your van.”

“That was different.”

“How?” he asks.

“Because now we’re married.”

He laughs and I kind of hate how good it sounds.

This would be a no-brainer for a regular married couple, but our arrangement is not typical and I don’t want to lose sight of that.

Scratch that. I’m terrified to lose sight of that.

I have no doubt that Rory is perfect husband material, but I’m not the wife for him. Not long term anyway. I have too much baggage. Too many insecurities to be a good partner.

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