Page 21 of Six Month Wife
"It's not something I'd say yes to lightly."
"Understandable."
I let out a breath. "God, this is embarrassing, but I realized yesterday I don't know your first name. Miami was... well, my memory was focused on more sensory details. And yesterday, I felt too awkward to ask."
He laughs, and there's something almost relieved in it. "Parker," he says. "Parker Matthews."
"Parker," I repeat, testing how it sounds. It fits him.
"I wouldn't want you to say yes lightly," he says, his tone shifting back to serious.
"If I were to consider it," I say, "hypothetically…"
He meets my eyes. "Then we'd talk it through. Everything on the table. Your terms, not mine."
"I need time to wrap my head around this," I say finally. "It's a lot to process."
“That goes without saying. Take all the time you need.”
He pulls out his phone. "Can I get your number? For the date part, not the other thing."
I give him my number, and he texts me immediately, so I have his.
"So," he says, tucking his phone away with that crooked smile. "Dinner Friday? A date, not a businessmeeting. We don't have to talk about any of this, unless you want to."
"I'd like that."
After he leaves, I stand there staring at the roses, wondering how every time I see this man, something completely unexpected happens.
The next evening,as I dig for my keys outside my condo, I replay the conversation with Sally Theme, my attorney.
I decided to reach out to see if this is even something someone could do. I've never even heard of something like this, much less considered what the logistics would look like. Parker said he's open to discussing, so if we do, I want to be at least somewhat educated.
She didn’t tell me I was crazy when I told her. She asked if we could agree on terms, saying that was the most important element to making it work. Basically, the sky's the limit on that.
For me, it would come down to how much, when, and for how long.
In so many words, she told me it would be an easy mutual agreement contract to draft if we could nail down the specifics.
I’m halfway through the door when I hear footsteps on the path behind me.
“Hey,” a voice says, one that's becoming more and more familiar lately. "Fancy seeing you here."
I turn to see Parker walking up the path to my building, a boxed-up coffee maker in one hand and that same crooked grin on his face.
“What are you doing here?”
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Suddenly, this guy is everywhere.
“I'm still moving into my new place. Looks like we are neighbors.”
“You live here?” I blink at him. “You’re the one who bought Kelly Mangini's condo?”
“Yes. That's right, Kelly. That's who I bought it from," he says, clearly amused. “I closed on it last week, and I've been in and out, hauling boxes between shifts.”
I stare, then laugh, because, of course, he's my next-door neighbor. “I see what’s happening here. The universe is trying another tactic to push us together?”
I laugh, but my stomach flips. Of all the places in this town for him to buy, of course, it's the one next to mine. And last week? How am I only now seeing him?
