Page 94 of The Fine Line
“And B,” he continues, “though your concern for my manhood is touching, referback to A.”
He drops the colander on top of the bowls and returns to the kitchen island where boxes of my things wait.
Linda was kind enough to send movers to lovingly bubble wrap and pack my entire life before ripping it away. I get it—if Rhett and I are married, we can’t live in separate apartments. But I’d hoped the impulsivity of our Vegas wedding and the fact I’d just renewed my lease might buy us some time. I argued we’d be together constantly anyway—with work, practice, games, and travel. Maybe people wouldn’t notice.
Linda disagreed.
“People may have been caught off guard, but they believe it—and they’re eating it up,” she says. “We can’t risk anything. If this gets out, the damage will be irreparable.”
So that was that. The moving truck was waiting at my apartment when we landed. And waiting again at Rhett’s after the press conference.
We were exhausted—emotionally and physically—but neither of us could relax until we made a dent. Turns out, we’re both neat freaks.
“Your ‘manhood’ could shrivel up and fall off for all I care,” I say, grabbing the colander off the bowls and tucking it next to the salad spinner.
“It’s a bowl,” Rhett mutters.
“It is not. And a cutting board is still not a plate?—”
“Can you eat off it?”
I throw my hands up. “By that logic, everything’s a plate. You can eat off anything if you try.”
His brows lift. “Should I add that to your list of kinks or?—”
I chuck a sponge at his head. “Shut up!”
He blocks it, laughing. Despite myself, I laugh too.
“I swear,” I shake my head, “it’s like you’ve never been in a kitchen.”
“Believe it or not, I’ve been in this kitchen plenty. Considering it’s mine.”
I sigh. “You’re right. I’m the one invading. I’ll ease up.”
“You’re not invading, Cub,” he says. “You’re joining. We’ll both have to compromise.”
“I can do that.” I think. “Anyway, it’s not like we really have a choice.”
“Yeah, I’d rather not spend the next few years sleeping with one eye open in case you bash my head in with a colander.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” I say. “Maybe with a bowl though.”
He smirks as he unpacks my teacups, lining them beside his coffee mugs.
I lean against the counter. “While we’re on the topic of boundaries…”
He looks up.
“This needs to be a safe space. There are no people and no cameras here. So no need for us to pretend. No funny business. No flirting. No unnecessary touching.”
“So…no sex then?”
I just stare.
He lifts his hands. “Fine. I won’t lay a finger on you. Unless you ask me to.”
“So, never. Perfect.”
