Page 31 of Matched

Chapter Twelve

Inara

Icheck my lipstick in the mirror. The plum color I bought at the boutique across the street settles perfectly on my cupid’s bow. Taya snorts and shakes her head. Lucky for me, my shift is over. Unlucky for her, she still has five more hours to go.

“What a life. Work is over and now you get to go grocery shopping,” she says.

“That’s because I live with an eating machine with a never-ending stomach.” I still can’t wrap my head around how much food Tony consumes. At least we share a joint bank account due to military rules; otherwise, I’d be penniless.

“Speaking of Tony, how’d the marriage counseling go?” Taya says.

I release a heavy sigh as my shoulders slump forward.

Taya shakes her head and laughs. “That good, huh? Trust me, I’ve been there. My first session with Jim was about the most awkward thing ever.” She pats me on the shoulder. “You, too, shall live through this.”

I snort and groan at the same time. “I hope so. I think ours was less awkward and more straight-up bizarre. Tony flipped the switch from mild-mannered goofball to tight-lipped SEAL mode at times, like he was suspicious that the therapist was trying to dig out some deep dark military intel or something.” I pause and nibble my lip as I remember the way Tony’s posture changed. The way he’d taken control. “Although, I can’t lie, it was kind of hot, seeing that side of him.”

“Bizarre yet hot, got it.” Taya nods like what I’ve said makes sense, even though I’m still trying to decipher my feelings myself.

“Overall, he was pretty great, though. He had no problems talking about marriage-related stuff, or even joking about some of his insecurities. The only personal thing he clammed up about was his childhood.” And his stonewalling on that front had come as something of a relief, because it made me feel better about not wanting to share my own childhood baggage. At one point, when the therapist was not so subtly nudging me to open up about any issues I’d had with my parents growing up, Tony and I had shared a commiserating look while the therapist was jotting notes in his notebook. Of course, next thing I knew, my screwball of a husband was pulling a hilarious face, and I’d had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud.

The session left me with questions, though. I know why I’m not eager to share my family life growing up, but what’s Tony’s baggage? I voice as much to Taya, but when I glance up, she coughs and turns her face away from me. “Sorry. Must be my allergies acting up.”

I narrow my eyes. Since when does Taya have allergies?

My phone vibrates, distracting me. I yank it out and read the text.

I’m on my way to the market. Need anything?

I show the screen to Taya. “Oh, how romantic, you two can go shopping together now.”

I roll my eyes, but honestly, I’m not mad about sharing this chore with Tony. I shoot off a text telling him to wait on me there.

“Later, chica.” With a wave, I spin around and head toward the exit of Shaken & Stirred while the conundrum of my new husband fills my mind. There’s the easygoing, happy-go-lucky Tony, who jokes around at hospitals and therapy sessions. Then there’s kindhearted, eager-to-help Tony, who readily agrees to give up his free time to build houses with my stepdad.

There’s also guarded Tony, which I’d caught a glimpse of in therapy, and prickly, tight-lipped Tony, who won’t talk about mysterious phone calls. I wish he trusted me enough to confide in me. Maybe I’d made a mistake in therapy not being upfront about how all of Mami’s failed marriages affected me. Maybe if I’d opened up, Tony would have followed suit and done the same. Next time will be different. For now, all I can do is try to help him sort out whatever he’s dealing with. Maybe grocery shopping will put him at ease, and I could sneak in a few questions over thumping watermelons and inspecting cuts of beef.

Fifteen minutes later, I pull into the parking lot at the grocery store. Tony is waiting for me, leaning against his Durango, his brow furrowed as he frowns down at a word search puzzle book. I watch him for a few moments and smile. As far as addictions go, I can’t complain.

When I open my door and climb out, his head pops up. He flashes me a sheepish grin. Dark shadows form semicircles beneath his eyes, reminding me that he’d gone straight from work to therapy and then back to work, and now here he is, waiting on me to go grocery shopping. The impact of my husband’s grin combines with admiration over his work ethic and causes my heart to skip a beat.

He turns and tosses the puzzle book into the car, then shuts the door and faces me once again. “Are you trying to tell me something? Is purple lipstick meant to be some kinda aphrodisiac?”

I smack him softly. “Yeah, it’s the color your balls are going to be after we spend the rest of our marriage sexless.”

He winces. “That’s cold.”

He’s right. We hadn’t had a chance to talk yet about the other night, but given the way he’d been acting, he must’ve taken my flippant statement about his wildness or lack thereof in bed a little too personally. “Sorry, bad joke.”

His smile returns. “So, you’re saying that we aren’t going to spend the rest of our time together sexless?”

His phone pings before I can reply. He tenses and shoves the device into his back pocket. Something is wrong. The last time Tony was this on edge was after Taya was attacked. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh?” His forehead wrinkles as his brows pinch together, but the lines disappear as his eyes widen and brows lift. “Yeah, nothing to worry about.”

Liar. But there’s little I can do if he doesn’t want to share. I rub small circles on his back, hoping to ease some of the tension as we head over to grab a shopping cart.

Tony swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “We both know you and I don’t have these kinda conversations. Hell, I’m not asking you what your mother thinks of those little bars in your nipples.”

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