Page 39 of Tart
My phone beeped again, and I held up my finger, glancing at the screen. “It’s from Hay-Hay. She should be in bed, but she’s texting me about some news she has to tell me tomorrow.”
“Don’t you love that?” he asked, laughter in his voice while he took a drink.
“No, I don’t,” I said, shaking my head. “If you have news to share, either tell me what it is or don’t say anything until you show up at my door.” I held up my finger and texted her that we’d talk in the morning after she finished with the baking. I added that I was super stoked to hear about the big news, just to settle her down a little bit.
“Do you think she’s pregnant?”
I snapped my head up, sliding my phone back into my pocket. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “That was already a scare that occurred and prompted all of this messiness.”
“Messiness?”
I nodded and stared into the fire, my mind racing. I had so much to think about, and now he’d thrown the whole marriage thing into the mix. I didn’t know where to start to sort any of it out.
“Hay-Hay thought she was pregnant and had a meltdown thinking about the business, all the work that already wasn’t getting done, how many hours she spends there, and how she was going to do it with a baby on her hip.”
“I see,” he said. “That would be a lot if you hadn’t planned for it.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, finishing my soda. “The test was negative, but Brady used her reaction to the situation to force her to see things had to change. He told her she had to think hard about how to stop letting the business run us.”
“I feel like he’s good at that. He kind of has this quiet way of needling you about something you already know has to happen, but you haven’t accepted yet.”
“God, you’re so right,” I said on a sigh, but my lips wore a smile. “He’s the only guy in the bakery. We need his cool head on a daily basis, to be honest. He’s the break in the dynamic between Hay-Hay and me. When we get going on something that could spiral out of control, he’s always the one to bring us back down to earth and remind us that there’s more to consider. Come to think of it—I could use his wisdom now, too bad I don’t have that luxury.”
“His wisdom about what?” he asked, his head tipped to the side.
I held my hand out and sighed. “Well, see, someone asked me to marry him today, and I don’t know what the right answer is.”
He chuckled and stared into the fire. “I thought that question was asked and answered. I can rescind the offer if that makes it easier for you.”
I shrugged, my curiosity winning out over my logic. “I can’t get past the idea that it’s deceptive, Bishop. It’s probably insurance fraud.”
“Surprisingly, according to the definition by the FBI, it’s not,” he said. “Do you know who commits the most insurance fraud in this country?” I shook my head as an answer. “Doctors. The little bit of money the insurance would payout for your tests is a penny in a full bucket of what they pay out to doctors filing fraudulent claims.”
“That still doesn’t make it right, Bishop,” I insisted.
He held up both hands in surrender and went back to staring into the fire.
“I mean, how would it even work?” I asked, not sure I needed him to answer as much as I needed not to have it in my head anymore. I needed to work it out in the air by the fire.
“It’s not hard. We apply for a license, get married by a judge, and file it. My district allows me to put you on the insurance immediately.”
“I mean the marriage. How would that work? It’s not like I can live over there and you over here,” I said, pointing at his house.
“True, that wouldn’t look like we were newlyweds. I suppose we’d have to live together for a while.”
“In your house?”
“I do have more bedrooms,” he said. “You can have a guest room.”
“Or the basement,” I said casually, but my voice wavered at the end.
He reached out and squeezed my hand. “You can’t stay in the basement here with your leg the way it is. If storms are predicted, and you can’t get down my stairs, we can always hang out at your apartment for the night.”
I squeezed his hand back in acknowledgment of his understanding, which was something I didn’t get a lot in my life. “I mean, marriage would put a huge crimp in your social life, Bishop. You wouldn’t be able to date or anything.”
“Damn,” he said, shaking his head with serious vigor. “I’ll have to clear my social calendar. Think of all those calls I’m going to have to make and all those disappointed women who will have their hearts broken. It’s going to take days.”
I snorted and crossed my arms over my chest. “Smartass.”
