Page 78 of Just (Fake) Married
“You’re up early,” Harmony said, as soon as she spotted me standing in front of the big sink, the window behind me.
Truthfully, I was usually an early riser, but I’d been letting her avoid me on purpose until yesterday, when I’d pulled the shower moment.
After last night, though, playing those games seemed a little unfair, so I would follow through with what I offered. We wouldbe partners in this fake marriage, and partners made each other coffee.
I handed her a mug and she took a sip and sighed.
“Do you have time for breakfast? I make a mean omelet.”
She snorted. “Do you say that to all the girls who spend the night at your house?”
“Actually, no,” I said, surprising both of us with honesty. “I’ve never had a woman spend the night in this house, and in Seattle, it’s been months since I’ve made an omelet for a woman.”
That stunned her into silence, and I wanted to tell her that I’d never made an omelet for anyone I cared about. Anyone I liked as much as I liked her.
But that was beyond the bounds of a fake relationship.
“Your sweater’s inside out again,” I said, pointing to the tag that was sticking out.
“Why do I keep…” Harmony’s voice trailed off as she whipped the sweater over her head, giving me a brief period of time to admire the tops of her creamy breasts guilt free, until she was pulling it back on correctly.
“You seem a little scattered,” I commented.
She shrugged. “No more than normal. What are you doing today?”
“I’m heading into town to check out the clinic. You volunteered me last night, remember?”
She took another swig of her coffee and nodded. “Sorry about that. I just thought it would make you seem invested in the town.”
“No worries. I’m happy to do it. When I’m done, I’ll come by the store to pick you up for the town meeting.”
She beamed. “I’m excited. We’re really going to bring the festival back to all of its morbid glory.”
“The Calloways and McGraws will kill each other again! Figuratively, and only for the entertainment value,” I agreed.
“Thanks for the coffee,” she said, gathering up her coat and animals, and like a whirling Tasmanian Devil, she was out the front door and the house was noticeably quieter.
Not long after Harmony left, I was in my dad’s study doing some basic research on successful rural health clinics. What worked for them, what didn’t, when the door opened and Carter poked his head inside.
He was carrying Zoe in his arms, despite the fact she should be at school.
“Hey!” I said, sitting back from the desk. “What are you doing here? And with such delightful company?”
“I wanted to dig into Dad’s accounting again and Zoe didn’t go to school today.”
“I’m sick,” Zoe announced, lifting her head off her father’s shoulder. Her arm was wrapped around a pink elephant almost as big as she was.
“Good thing I’m a doctor,” I said. I stood up and transferred Zoe, elephant included, from Carter’s arms to mine.
“She’s okay,” Carter said. “Probably just a cold.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” I said, taking a seat on the couch. “Tell me everything, Zoe. What hurts?” I said all of this to the elephant. “Is it your trunk? It’s a very strange color for an elephant.”
“Uncle Ethan,” she said with a laugh. “I’m Zoe. This is Chompers.” She lifted the elephant over her head.
“Oh, there you are. I thought you looked different. Now, what hurts?”
She pointed to her head, then her nose, then her mouth.
