Page 12 of Til Divorce Do Us Start

I sit all the way up as I watch Colin cook. He doesn’t talk or hum or anything, but there’s something about a man working in the kitchen that’s just so ... attractive. He grumbles something, huffs at himself, then stabs a steak before dropping it in the skillet.

“You’re not a vegetarian are you?” he asks.

“No.”

“Allergies?”

“...No, Colin. You don’t need to-”

“Letting that asshole ruin your night means he wins,” he growls.

I cross my arms over the back of the couch and rest my chin there. “That would ruin your streak, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean,” he says sarcastically.

I bite my bottom lip. He breaks a branch of a plant I assumed was decorative in his kitchen, then tosses something in the skillet. I lick over my bottom lip. I want to yell at him. I want to piss him off so he feels as bad as I do, but that won’t fix things. And for once my rage is not his fault.

So I lean my head to the side. “I didn’t know that plant was real.”

“Every plant in here is real. I own a garden design company,” he answers.

“Oh, right… Why gardening?”

He sighs heavily. I roll my eyes. “You’re so damn prickly, Colin. I ask a question and you immediately shut it down like people can only get to know you on your terms.” I lay back and stare at the ceiling fan. “At least you didn’t give me a hotel room key.”

“Definitely didn’t put it in your underwear,” he murmurs, still obviously frustrated.

My eyes water. “That’s not the worst part.”

A clang of a spatula against a skillet answers me.

“I had to deal with it all with a smile. Because ‘that’s the job.’ That means I wear a smile no matter how I feel, make friends with people I don’t agree with and cross my fingers that I’m not stuck in a room alone with them. It all sucks, but seeing how interns are treated ... it makes my night look like a fairytale because at least I have enough power to walk away when it’s too much,” I rant.

“Easier to work for myself. I got that right at least,” Colin finally answers.

I massage my temples and stew in my own frustration. I’m supposed to have power. I’m a successful copywriter. I’m good at my job. I played the game with my own rules and got where I am without spreading my legs, flirting, or blackmailing anyone. But these corporate assholes always want more than they deserve and they’re so unfamiliar with the word ‘no.’ Men and women who either want me for less than my rate, want me for thewrong reasons, find my friendliness fake or as an invitation for touching ...

I lose myself in my thoughts until my legs are lifted. I look down and see Colin sitting. He grabs the remote and changes it to a sitcom I enjoy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him watch T.V.

“Do you normally watch home renovation and garden shows?” I ask.

“I prefer documentaries. Eat ... please,” he says, his attempt at being civil.

My throat tightens, but I obey, turning and finding a steak and asparagus waiting for me. I sit up and eat slowly, savoring the admittedly good meal. Colin inhales his food like a caveman, then sets his plate on the table.

“I’ll do dishes tonight,” he mumbles.

“Thanks,” I say.

“We should ...” he glances at me as I suck a stalk of asparagus into my mouth. He clears his throat. “Go over some things.”

“Like?”

“Neither of us should date until we’re divorced,” he says evenly. I arch an eyebrow, but he doesn’t look away from me.

Finally, I nod. “Yeah, that’s kind of obvious. It wouldn’t look like we’re trying to make things work if we’re dating others.”

“Also, I’m going to charge you a form of rent.”

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