Page 8 of Might as Well

I shake my head at him. “I don’t think she’s crazy.” At least, I hope she’s not. And I don’t think she’d come after my money. But then again, what do I know? I don’t really know her, now do I?

“Just be careful,” he repeats.

I nod and finally get out. After pressing the alarm button, I find her car. The drive to Violet’s seems impossibly longer than it did the first time I drove here. The reality of the situation finally hits me. It only took two weeks and Cal being skeptical to do it.

I married a perfect stranger. A person I didn’t even spend six hours with before we tied the knot. What the hell is wrong with me?

I quietly enter Violet’s home once the car and I arrive back safely. The door across from Violet’s bedroom opens and a guy, maybe in his early twenties, peers out.

“Who the fuck are you?” he sneers.

“A friend of Violet’s.”

He shakes his head with a huff and disappears back into the room. I have a lot of questions, like who is the guy staying with Violet? The questions will have to wait. I step into her bedroom.

She’s right where I left her. The blankets are up over her head and I can see a faint outline of her body curled into the fetal position.

“Violet?” I whisper as I get closer.

A “yeah” squeaks out from beneath the covers.

“Your car is outside and I’m leaving the keys on your nightstand. Is there anything I can do?”

The blankets pull down just enough to expose her eyes as she peeks at me. “No. Thank you, though.”

“Will you be okay?”

“I always am, Zane.” With that, she hides her face again.

What is it about that answer that breaks my heart? I exit her bedroom, but honestly, I don’t feel right about leaving. While she’s not alone, the attitude coming off the other guy doesn’t sit well with me either. He didn’t seem concerned at all at a stranger appearing in this house, claiming to know Violet. Does she have strangers over often?

That doesn’t matter. Violet is what I need to focus on. She wasn’t doing too hot at the pub or on her way inside her house. Maybe she won’t hate me or be mad at me in the morning.

I shrug out of my suit jacket, remove my tie, and toe out of my shoes. I snag a throw pillow and shove it under my head as I lie on the couch. A chuckle nearly leaves me. I’m married and don’t feel comfortable sleeping in the same bed as my wife without permission.

What a prickly situation I’ve found myself in.

I roll to my side and for a brief moment feel nothing beneath me. My eyes flash open as I fall to the floor with a thud.

“Zane! Are you okay?”

With a grunt, I lift myself back onto the couch to see Violet sitting in the nearby chair, her legs tucked under her, and a cup of presumably coffee nestled in her hands.

“Fine. You feeling better?” I ask.

“Mostly.”

After rubbing my face to clear away the remnants of sleep, I look at my watch. Six in the morning. Entirely too fucking early.

“Why are you up so early on a Sunday?”

“Grandma was always up to catch the six o’clock news,” she answers as if that explains everything. The TV displays the local news with the volume so low you can barely understand what they’re saying. “You didn’t have to stay.”

“Just wanted to make sure you would be okay.”

“Thank you, Zane.”

The softness and sincerity in her tone is hard to miss. It’s probably been a long time since she’s had anyone look after her. If she’ll let me, I will. I could make her the most importantperson in my life and make sure she never has to worry about anything. Make sure she never has a reason to be sad about the most basic of all things in life.

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