Page 24 of Axe-identally Married
“Yeah, but it’s not every day my husband moves in.”
The way she shrugged was so cute I wanted to tug her into my body and hug her. All the drama of this weekend had surely taken a lot out of her, but she was still so kind.
“Once we finish, I was hoping we could chat for a few minutes, establish some ground rules.”
I gave her an easy nod. I’d agree to anything right now. I was here, and we were doing this. Although the circumstances were pretty wild, this felt like a fresh start.
After the boxes were piled up in my new bedroom, I headed out to the living room and sat in an oversized armchair.
I fidgeted on the cushion, working up the nerve to check in on how she was really feeling. “You still okay with me moving in?”
She nodded. “Course. I’ve got the space, and I’m never home.” She pushed a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “I don’t mind having a roommate.”
“I won’t get in your way,” I promised. “I can help too.”
She’d already said yes, and I’d moved my stuff in, but I couldn’t help but feel like I should reassure her that I wouldn’t cause any more trouble. That I was worth the risk.
“I’ll cook. Debbie has been teaching me,” I offered. “My peanut butter cookies are next level. And I can do laundry. She’s domesticated me.”
A zing of pride worked its way through me. Debbie was loving and kind, but from day one, she’d made it clear there was to be no freeloading. Nope, she had me mowing the lawn, cleaning gutters, and washing my own socks within twenty-four hours of moving in, even while I was recovering from surgery.
And I liked feeling useful. While I doubted Willa would want to be waited on hand and foot—though I didn’t know her well, she’d always been a very self-sufficient person—the least I could do was help out.
She rubbed her hands together, a small smile playing at her lips. “That’s sweet but unnecessary for this kind of arrangement.”
“Maybe so. Guess I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been in a fake marriage before.”
She huffed out a laugh. “Technically, I think this is a marriage of convenience.”
“Is that right?” I asked, grinning. “And there’s a difference?”
“Yes.” Her tone was so matter-of-fact. “If we’re looking at tropes, we’re married for real, not only faking it. And it’s for convenience.”
“Fair enough.”
“So I think a clear set of guidelines and expectations is appropriate, given the circumstances.”
I nodded once, resting my elbows on the armrests and lacing my fingers. “Of course. Whatever you want.”
“For example. How long are we going to stay married? I’m trying to find a lawyer that doesn’t know anyone in Lovewell to help with the annulment process.”
That was a good question. With the madness that came after our marriage, we’d yet to even think through the timing.
“What do you think? Six months? A year?”
“I really don’t know.” She worried her lip. “I figure we shoot for six months? Check in every few weeks to make surewe’re both okay with how it’s going? Six months would get us into spring. By then, hopefully my dad will have made a lot of improvements. So that could work.”
“Hopefully I’ll have a job lined up and be moving, anyway.”
She twisted the ends of her hair, her nervous tell, I’d discovered. “And I’ll be more established and organized at work and be taking better care of myself.”
I smiled at her. It was impressive, how committed she was to this town and her patients.
“Let me know what the lawyer needs. I hope you know I won’t take anything from you.”
“Are you talking about money?” She laughed and then laughed some more, her head thrown back. “I don’t have any money,” she said, wiping a tear from her left eye. “I’m up to my eyeballs in student debt. I would have made more bartending than I did as a medical resident. If you married me for money, you are in trouble.”
“I didn’t marry you for money,” I said, sitting up straighter.
