Page 12 of The Marriage Sham
Chapter Seven
Frances
I’m shocked, flabbergasted, and conflicted.
And that’s all before six A.M.
How did I go from living the single life in Atlanta, building my business, and minding my own business to flirting with Fenwick Whittington, my old high school crush, who I swore I’d never lay eyes on again. And not just flirting, but planning our wedding. Today!
“Frances,” Granddaddy calls out from his bedroom.
I roll out from under the covers, where I’ve been trying to wrap my brain around everything that’s happened and how I ended up here. Looking around for pants of some sort, I hear Granddaddy call for me again.
“Crud,” I mutter. Better to just run downstairs and find out what’s going on that’s so urgent. I can grab pants later.
I breeze to the bottom of the stairs, my mind drifting to how good Fen looks all grown up. Before I reel it in, my heart dips into my stomach, and I’m not sure how I’m going to survive being fake married to him. I’ve never been one to be in close quarters with a man and not develop feelings for him.
“Are your pants on fire?” I joke with Granddaddy as I walk into his bedroom.
He’s lying in bed, the bedside table drawer open, a worn photo album on his lap. “Come here, girl. I got something to show you.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help the grin, knowing he just wants to show me his old pictures of him and Grandma. Considering I don’t even remember her since she died so young, I don’t mind sitting and taking a look, hearing his old stories I’ve heard a thousand times before.
“Since you’re getting married I thought I’d show you my wedding pictures.” His eyes light up, and he taps the page with his finger. “This one is from our honeymoon in the mountains. Isn’t your grandma beautiful?”
He makes sure I see it before he flips the page. His face goes soft, and I could swear his eyes mist over as he gazes at their wedding picture. They’re both grinning from ear to ear, laughter caught forever on film. He’s got his arm around her waist, and he looks so young and carefree.
Glancing at him now, he still looks so happy, like those few short years with her were enough to last him his entire lifetime. I feel a sudden twinge of gratitude for Fen. For offering to marry me. For pushing me into it. For putting that smile on Granddaddy’s face again. If I wasn’t totally invested before - which, let’s be honest, I wasn’t - I am now. I’m going to marry Fen.
Not because the sight of Fen makes my heart jump out of my chest, or because his words make me melt, or because I had a crush on him in high school.
For Granddaddy.
“I can’t wait for you to be as happy as I was with your grandma. She was everything.” He shuts the photo album and puts it back in his drawer, story time over. I help him close it up and then offer to make him breakfast since we’re all up and about already. His left leg seems to be acting up today and not moving as well as it has been, so I make a mental note to tell the physical therapist when she comes.
I’m bent over, helping Granddaddy get scooted back in his wheelchair when I feel a draft. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Fen standing in the doorway of the bedroom, his eyes glued to my backside, which is currently barely covered by my long t-shirt.
I snap straight up and turn around, tugging the end of the t-shirt as low as I can, chastising myself for not finding pants before I came downstairs. Granddaddy is oblivious to my discomfort and our guest as he tucks a blanket around his legs.
Fen and I stare at each other, mine rounded in horror, his heated to a dark blue. His jaw twitches, which I find fascinating.
Finally he speaks, unfreezing me from my position with my hands holding my shirt down over my thighs. “Sorry to interrupt, but I have something for you, Francie.”
He gestures to the hanger in his hand, the plastic dress cover hiding what’s in it. I blink, surprised to have not even seen the hanger when he first arrived. Then I register he called me “Francie” again, and the sass flares to life.
I straighten my spine and let go of my t-shirt, letting it spring back up high on my thighs. Fen’s eyes go round behind his glasses and I smirk, knowing I got him back. Walking over to him slowly, I see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. I take the hanger out of his hands and hold it in front of me.
“What’s this?”
He clears his throat. “I, um, went to a place yesterday and got you a dress. For the wedding.”
My sass deflates in the face of such sweetness. Then panic flares. How does he know what size I am? What if it’s too tight and I look ridiculous? I’m not exactly a tiny girl. I’ll be so embarrassed if it’s way too small.
“Well go ahead, open it and see if you like it.” He looks nervous, which makes two of us, but I lay it on Granddaddy’s bed and open it anyway. “I was just walking by and saw it in the window and thought you’d make that dress look even better. But if you don’t like it, you can take it back. No hard feelings.”
He’s saying all the right things to calm me down, but I wonder if he’s saying it for my sake or Granddaddy’s.
“Oh, Fen.” I pull out the most gorgeous white dress I’ve ever seen. It’s sleeveless and a wrap dress, with a small, delicate ruffle along the edges. If I’m not mistaken the material is a lightweight, white chiffon that lays nicely over an off-white liner.
