Page 51 of The Marriage Game

Where did that idea come from? I’m not sure, but my body immediately wishes she meant it.

Dorothy’s brow draws together. “Well, now that would not be a good idea. The last thing we want is the two of you getting lost out there. The horseback ride is being led by two experienced guides, but it would be all too easy to get lost without them. Sure it’s nice outside during the day, but it gets awfully cold at night.”

Jill drops my hand and slides an arm around my waist. “I’m sure we could find a way to keep each other warm, right, Max?”

What is she doing to me? I’m awkwardly torn between my earlier annoyance and my newfound turned on state. Makeup sex is starting to sound like a great idea, except I’m pretty sure Jill doesn’t actually want to have sex. She just wants Dorothy to think that she wants to.

I strongly dislike this part of our ruse.

Dorothy lets out a small huff of laughter. “Trust me, Jill, you don’t want to spend the night with the wolves and bears out there in the wilds of Montana.”

“I’m not scared of bears if I have my husband with me.”

Well that makes one of us.

“If David could wrestle a bear as a young shepherd boy,” Jill goes on, “then I’m sure Max, as a full grown adult male, can as well.”

Again, that makes one of us. I wish I could press pause on everything but me and Jill so that I could ask her if it’s possible she’s taking this whole ‘we have such a loving marriage’ game too far.

Spoiler: the answer is yes. Yes, she is. I will not be wrestling any bears. I cannot stress that enough.

“I can see your minds are not to be changed,” Dorothy acknowledges. “So fine, go on the horseback ride.” She turns owl eyes on me. “Max, please do be sure to sign the waiver releasing the ranch from any lawsuits should any injuries occur on the ride or, I don’t know, during your encounter with a bear.”

She turns and heads off to stage to mingle with some other couples.

Ones that I’d venture a guess have no plans to engage in any bear wrestling matches.

“Are you insane?” I ask Jill. “I cannot wrestle a bear.”

“Oh please,” Jill scoffs. “I only said that so Dorothy would realize that not only are we madly in love, but we also have some impressive Biblical knowledge. I mean, David wrestling a bear, that’s sort of obscure, don’t you think?”

“A simple ‘yes, I am insane,’ would have sufficed,” I reply dryly. Jill rolls her eyes.

“I had to do something, Max. She’s just so…sanctimonious all the time.”

“Yeah, well, maybe she wouldn’t be able to be sanctimonious if someone hadn’t been caught in a lie onstage.”

Two spots of color appear high on Jill’s cheekbones. I recognize them as an angry blush rather than one of embarrassment or pleasure.

“Yes, I messed up,” she acknowledges tersely, “but that’s only because of you with your whole ‘she’s stepped up to support me’ and ‘she’s so selfless’.” She scoffs again. “I do not support you in your decision to completely overload your schedule with work at the expense of our family.” Dorothy’s voice floats over from nearby, and Jill’s expression and voice turn pleasant even as she delivers her last blow, “I just couldn’t bring myself to not retaliate to such a ludicrous statement.”

I flinch, but then, like a reflex, paste on a smile of my own as I retort, “What exactly should I have done differently, Jill? Told my dad, sorry, I know you want to retire but I need to spend more time with my family?”

“Yes!” she chirps sweetly even as her eyes flash. There have been times in the past when our attempts to disguise a public fight with overly cheerful expressions and tones has resulted in us forgetting our fight as we laugh at the absurdity of it all. This is not one of those times.

“Yes,” I echo incredulously, my pasted on smile starting to slip. “Yes? Jill, there’s no way he would have understood that. It’s always been work first for him.”

“Exactly,” she whispers. “What a legacy.”

Her meaning isn’t lost on me, and I stagger back as if she’s sucker punched me.

“I’m not my dad,” I whisper.

“I don’t think so either,” she whispers back, but then steps forward and presses a finger against my chest. “But lately you’ve been doing a pretty good imitation of him, Max.”

“I’m just trying to provide a good life for you and the kids,” I tell her, but the words sound hollow.

“What the kids need to have a good life is you,” she replies. Tears spark her eyes. “The kids need you, Max.” A tear slides down her cheek, and she turns, not wanting anyone to see. “I need to use the restroom,” she murmurs, then hurries off beforeI can ask her the question burning across my chest:What about you, Jill? Do you need me too?

---