Page 21 of This Means War

Chapter 17

Cole

Miraculously Lydia’s stuntwith Hilda doesn’t seem to have had any adverse effects. For the rest of the week, Tom and I scoured social media and news outlets for any word of Lydia’s and my impromptu nuptials, but we never found anything. Lydia called yesterday to say she’d gotten Hilda’s signature on the new marriage license, and that Hilda had promised to continue to be discreet.

Outside of that phone call, I haven’t seen or heard much from my new wife the last few days. That’s all about to change though, because she’s moving in today. Well, she’s moving into my guest room, but I imagine we’ll run into each other in the kitchen on occasion.

I survey the bedroom I’ve set up for her with a smile on my face. She thought it was funny, bringing Hilda to our wedding, fine. Point for her. Today’s point though, is going to be all mine. I don’t remember a lot about Lydia from our childhood, but I do remember one key fact about her. Eversince she was a little 3-year-old toddling around after me and Josh, she hated frogs. We used to catch them in the creek that ran behind our houses, and Lydia would run screaming inside to get away from us. Eventually we started heading down to the creek whenever we didn’t want her around. As she got older her fear of them only intensified. She categorically refused to go into the amphibian house at the zoo, and when Josh asked to go to the Rainforest Café for his birthday dinner one year, she hid under their parents’ bed in an effort to get out of going.

Given that she’s a grown woman now, I assume she’s moved past the fear of inanimate frogs stage, but I’m hopeful that they’ll still annoy her. Idly I lift a figurine of a pair of frogs dancing off her dresser and place it next to the pewter frog clock on her bedside table. Rotating, my eyes land on the gallery wall I put together. I’m pretty proud of it. It’s amazing what you can find on Amazon. My personal favorite is the giant canvas in the center featuring an oversized tree frog giving the peace sign. Although, the little plaque that reads “Crazy Frog Lady” is a close second.

I rub my hands together gleefully imagining her reaction, but then realize this probably makes me look like the villain she’s always insinuating I am and quickly put my hands back at my sides. The room is perfect. Now to go pick up my wife and escort her into her new home.

Lydia

Cole will bearriving any minute to help load up my stuff, but I am far from ready to go. Sure, packing up my bedroom only took about an hour and five boxes, but the act of leaving Jamie to go live with a guy, well that’s taking me a lot longer to come around to. Jamie and I are standing in the kitchen finishing off the last of my brown sugar Toaster Pastries. I keep having to put mine down to take sips of water in the hopes of fending off my tears.

“I just can’t believe you’re moving out,” Jamie wails, “and that you married a complete stranger!”

“Cole is not a complete stranger,” I tell her. “I told you we were childhood friends,” using the term ‘friends’ loosely here, “and when we saw each other again at Josh and Delia’s bachelor/bachelorette parties, sparks flew. It’s a sweet story.” Again, using the term “sweet” loosely.

“Whatever,” Jamie huffs, crossing her arms across her chest. “You didn’t even tell me about him when you got back. How many sparks could there’ve been?”

I almost say, enough to get me pregnant, but bite my tongue just in time. I’m trying not to draw attention to the elephant in the room—that we both know I only married Cole because he got me pregnant. It’s not that Jamie disagrees with my decision, it’s more that she is incredibly frustrated about the whole situation and can’t seem to handle the fact that, seeing as time travel isn’t possible, I’mstuck in this situation whether she likes it or not.

“Jamie,” I say, “it’s going to be fine. I’ll only be thirty minutes away, and I’ll still see you at school every day. Plus, you have a wedding to plan! You’ll be so busy, you’ll barely notice I’m gone. And hey, now you can paint my room any color you want.”

Jamie gives me a watery smile. “I will definitely notice you’re gone,” she tells me, pulling me into a hug. Emotion fills my chest. I needed her to say that. I’m trying to be brave and not act like my entire life is falling apart, but the truth of the matter is that I just want to unpack my duvet and hide under it until all the monsters go away. And yes, I am counting Cole as one of those monsters. A big, hairy one with only one eye and armpit breath.

There’s a rap on the door, and Jamie instantly straightens. Her eyes narrow to slits, and I start to wonder if she’s attempting to shoot heat rays out of her eyes at him through the walls.

“That’ll be Cole,” I say unnecessarily, then head to the door and swing it open.

He’s leaning on the door jamb like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and I consider whether or not I should just unleash Jamie on him and see what happens, but then he pulls a bouquet of green roses from behind his back and says, “Hoppy moving day!”

For a second, I’m touched by the gesture, then my brain registers his words. “Did you just sayhoppymoving day?”

“What?” He cocks his head at me like I’m crazy. “No, I saidhappymoving day.” He holds out theflowers. “For you.”

“Thanks.” I take them feeling suspicious. Did he really say happy? I could swear he said hoppy. But why would he have said hoppy? Slip of the tongue? Also, who buys someone green roses? I didn’t even know green roses existed! I don’t have time to dwell on any of this though, because Jamie pops up over my shoulder.

“You must be Cole,” she says, running the backs of her fingernails up and down her cheek in a clear imitation of Marlon Brando’s character inThe Godfather.

“And you must be Jamie.” He quirks an eyebrow at her. “Are you about to make me an offer I can’t refuse?”

Not even a flicker of a smile crosses her face in response. She just glares at him, then turns to me. “I see what happened here,” she hisses at me, her eyes dart back over her shoulder, looking Cole up and down. She shakes her head. “Are you sure about this, Lyddie, because I don’t trust this guy farther than I can throw him.”

Cole snorts from behind her. “I highly doubt you could even lift me.”

“Kind of the point of the idiom,” she snaps back.

“Idiom?” He eyes me. “Did she just say idiom in the middle of a normal conversation?”

“She’s an English teacher,” I tell Cole.

“Right.” He rubs his hands together. “Well this has been fun, but shouldn’t we get a move on? We have that appointment at two, after all.”

Cole, in what I’m starting to understand is a regular thing, pulled some strings and got an OBGYN he knows to see me on a Saturday. Tom thought it might be best if no one saw Cole in the waiting room of an OBGYN’s office just yet, and Cole insisted that he wanted to come to the ultrasound, so this was their solution. I do not like politics.

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