Page 16 of This Means War

Lydia’s List of Demands:

-my own bedroom (do you or do you not live in a fortress? If you do, we will obviously have to buy a new place)

-I am not Elle Woods, so I will not be attending law school to catch my man, give Tom my regrets

-I do not need to, nor do I plan on voting for you

-You are not allowed to sleep with other women, including but not limited to Ashley Allen

-You have to tell Josh

xxx, Your future trophy wife

I toss my phone back onto my bedside table with a chuckle. She thinks this list will upset me, but it’s a lot better than I would’ve expected. I can take her making subtle digs at me, insinuating that I’m somekind of evil villain who sleeps around. It’s the times where she lets her guard down, looks at me with her green eyes and smiles that really mess with me. I rake my fingers through my hair, trying to rid myself of these types of thoughts. I am not attracted to my future wife. I don’t even like her.

I pick my phone back up, reading through her list again. My eyes stick on the second to last item. “You are not allowed to sleep with other women, including but not limited to Ashley Allen.” Fine, I’ll admit it stings just a little bit that she thinks I would do that to her. Then again, I did sleep with her after only about three hours of us being reacquainted. Still, I do believe in being faithful to your partner. Of course, the other question this bullet point brings up is whether or not the two of us will be, uh, consummating our marriage. The thought has me throwing off my covers and pacing the room. I’ll never be able to sleep now. I eye my phone, the screen still lit on her message. She’s probably waiting for my reply. Well, if she’s awake and I’m awake....

Before I can think better of it, I grab my phone and call her.

She picks up on the second ring. “Problem with the list? How’s the reception in your fortress?”

“Question,” I ignore her jab, “you don’t want me sleeping with anyone else, fine. But that does beg the question, what about us?”

“What do you mean?” Her voice squeaks at the end, letting me know she knows exactly what Imean, and I’ve unnerved her. I smile into the phone.

“I’m thinking we should be at least a four times a week couple, but I could maybe compromise at three.”

“Cole Jacobson, you egotistical, animalistic–”

I can’t hold my laughter in any longer, and I hear her suck in a breath on the other end of the phone.

“I can’t believe I’m marrying you,” she mutters, and I stop laughing.

“Hey now, there are people out there who would say I’m a great catch.”

“Yes, well every population has its share of idiots.”

“Ooh, ouch.”

“Did you just call to torment me or was there something else?”

I’m silent for a beat. Maybe it makes me, as she said, “animalistic,” but I really do want to know where she stands on the whole us having sex thing. I mean we’re getting married; she can’t think the two of us will have a celibate relationship forever. Can she? What if she does?

“Cole? You still there?”

“Yeah, uh,” I suddenly feel like I’m underwater, and I can’t even see the surface, “just, uh, we should pick a day for the, uh, wedding. You know?”

“Right.” Now she’s silent for a beat. Should I back out? Maybe my political career isn’t worth this. I’m marrying a woman who doesn’t love me, whom I don’t–

“Cole,” her voice is so quiet I have to press thephone hard against my ear to hear her next words, “thanks for doing this. I know that it’s for your mayoral campaign or whatever, but you were right with what you said earlier. It really helps me too.”

“Oh…yeah.” I sink down onto my bed, an unfamiliar feeling building in my chest. “Of course. I mean, it’s not just political; I have a responsibility to the baby.”

“Yeah, the baby, right.” There’s another beat of silence. “Speaking of which, I’d better go to bed. It’s exhausting being pregnant. Let’s figure out a date tomorrow.”

“Sure, sure,” I agree. We hang up, and I get back into bed. There’ll be no backing out now, but for some reason I’m not so bothered anymore.

This time as I stare up at the ceiling, wishing for sleep to come, it miraculously does.

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