Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“And you work from home. You could just as easily work here as you do there.”
True, but that’s not the point. “What am I supposed to do? Just pack up and leave?”
“That’s never stopped you before.”
Ouch. She was speaking matter-of-factly and didn’t mean to hurt my feelings. After all, I do bounce around from place to place on a whim. Still, there’s an edge to the words that makes me think that she might have bigger feelings about my practices than she lets on.
I rise to my feet and move slowly around the room. Like Lolly, she has framed pictures everywhere. So many are of her and her friends here in Sugar Creek. Sure, there are a lot with me, but the number that I’m not in—because I wasn’t here—eats at me a little.
Markie’s life is so full of friends and activities, and I love that for her. It’s not something that I think about too much. But seeing it here, in full color—years memorialized in photographs—creates a vivid representation of how absent I am in her life. That her friends probably know her better than I do. And I don’t like that. At all.
I have three photos up in my house, and they’re all of my family. Come to think of it, none of them were taken in the past five years. But buying new frames is a pain in the butt, and keeping the number low makes them easy to pack when I move.
My heartbeat quickens as I contemplate what marrying Hartley might entail. He’d get his land back, and I’d make Lolly happy, as well as buy myself some time to decide what I want to do with Lolly’s house. And I’d get to spend some time with my sister.
And some time with Hartley.
“You must act and live as a married couple. If you tell anyone that it’s for show, the deal is off, and I sell to Beardsley.”
My chest is too tight for my lungs, and every breath hitches somewhere beneath my ribs. It feels like I’m walking in the dark, fearing that I’m about to trip over something I can’t see but sense is there. It’s familiar yet … dangerous.
I’m not sure I can do this.
My finger trembles as I trace the edge of a frame with a picture of Markie and me. What does marrying Hartley truly mean? By Lolly’s rules, we’d have to live together. But where? At the ranch? I can’t imagine Hartley loving the idea of having me in his personal space, and I don’t want to touch on what that might feel like to me. And I have no clue what happens when we go out in public. Does he hold my hand? Are we riding together to church?
A grin sweeps across my lips. Guess Lora will need to find a new place to sit.
Oof. Lora.
What if the reason Hartley walked out without saying anything was because of Lora? I’m sure she’s hot for him, but it never occurred to me before now that he might be hot for her. That’s probably because he’s never had a serious girlfriend that I know about, although I know he’s dated a bit here and there.
I completely avoid Sugar Creek when he’s dating.
But what if he does like her and has plans to date her? Or marry her?
My spirits sink because even though the idea of another woman being on Hart’s arm makes me irrationally irritated, it also hurts my heart to think that I could ruin something for him. Hate it or not, it’s not my place to get in the way of his life. I made my choice, and it’s only fair that I live with it.
“There’d be an expiration date on the marriage,” I say to no one in particular. If Hartley wants the land badly enough, he could marry me, ride it out, and then go to her. It’s not like he’s choosing me. “I’ve done harder things for a year.” I think.
“I don’t know,” Markie says, a playful lilt to her voice. “I have a feeling this one would be very, very hard. If you get my drift.”
A fireball rolls through my body, leaving a trail of flames behind it. “This wouldn’t be a real marriage. There would be no sex.”
“Uh-huh.”
“There wouldn’t,” I say, narrowing my eyes and pretending my body isn’t fighting a five-alarm fire.
I’ve had sex with Hartley, and Markie doesn’t know just how right she is. But I do, and that’s precisely why it can’t happen again. Because sex with other guys is just that—sex. But with Hartley, it’s messy. My brain has a terrible time extracting itself from my heart.
If we do this, if I marry Hartley, I can’t get it twisted. It can’t change anything. I can’t start wanting the real thing, because pretending to love Hartley feels survivable.