Page 16 of The Marriage Sham
Chapter Nine
Frances
“Granddaddy!” I bustle into the house, quick on my feet despite these ridiculous heels that feel like shards of glass on the balls of my feet. I’m conscious of Fen trailing behind me, and I wonder when I’ll lose the urge to run away from him as fast as my legs can carry me. The man had me on edge, even before that epic kiss. What was up with that kiss? I’d had a few good ones in my life, but everything pales in comparison to that one. I even forgot the pain from my shoes licking up my legs like my feet were in the pits of hell.
I hug Granddaddy where he sits in his wheelchair in front of the television while the nurse updates Fen on everything that happened while we were gone. I hear what she’s saying even while I’m focused on Granddaddy struggling to turn off the T.V. with his left hand. He had a good morning, with his memory perfectly intact and his sense of humor front and center.
When Fen takes his wallet out to pay the nurse, I turn away, feeling guilty he’s taking on so much of the burden of taking care of Granddaddy. I’d completely spaced on rings or even how to make sure Granddaddy was in good hands while we were at the courthouse. I need to pull my head out of the clouds and remember this marriage isn’t real, Fen doesn’t actually have feelings for me, and taking care of Granddaddy is my top priority.
Speaking of, I can’t wait to tell Granddaddy that one of the items on his bucket list is now checked off. Well, actually, two of them. I called a moving company last night to pack up my apartment and ship my stuff here to Love. It’s costing me a pretty penny, but the money I’ll make subletting the apartment should help cover the cost of moving. I wouldn’t say I’m permanently moving to Love, but I’m planning to stay a lot longer than I originally planned.
I wait until Fen closes the front door behind the nurse and joins me in the living room. He immediately puts his hand on my lower back, the heat from his skin melting through my dress and raising my blood pressure.
This isn’t real, I remind myself.
“I have good news, Granddaddy! Fen and I just went down to the courthouse and got married.” I grab hold of his hands while he absorbs the news. Fen puts his arm around my shoulders and squeezes me tight, nuzzling in from the side to kiss me on the cheek. The butterflies in my stomach, the ones his kiss created earlier today, take flight again.
I jab him in the side, hearing a puff of air escape his mouth. Serves him right. Trying to take advantage of the situation and lay it on thick. I immediately feel bad when Granddaddy’s face lights up and he tries to pull me into a hug.
“I’m so happy for you, sweetheart. I’m proud of you, you know.” His voice is rougher than usual, and I feel his body trembling as we hug. It strikes me again how frail he’s gotten in recent years. Instead of pushing Fen away, I should be thanking him profusely for going along with this sham. If it makes Granddaddy happy, what’s the harm?
When we pull back, I see tears in his eyes, which cause mine to flood. This man raised me, the least I can do is make him happy in his final days. Granddaddy shakes Fen’s hand, congratulating him. Even though I know he’s happy for us, I can see he’s struggling to stay awake, his eyes drooping periodically as we talk about the ceremony.
“Ready to lay down for a bit?” I smooth his fluffy white hair away from his forehead and get ready to wheel him into his bedroom.
He grumbles something incoherent, and I take that as a “yes.” Fen comes with me and helps transfer Granddaddy into his bed, tucking him in and filling my eyes with tears again as I take in how sweet he is with him.
We decide to make dinner while Granddaddy rests. I go upstairs to change out of my fancy dress, and Fen takes his jacket and tie off. He’s rolling his sleeves up when I come back downstairs in jeans and a blouse, and I have to force my eyes away from his muscles. When he picked me up that morning in a formal suit with his glasses askew and his hair freshly washed, I’d had a hard time breathing. But seeing him now in slacks that fit him just right and his shirt sleeves rolled up like he’s settling in at home for the evening makes me think of snuggling on the couch. There’s a level of intimacy there that makes me crave more than a temporary union.
In other words, Fen in rolled up sleeves is dangerous.
“So, Fen. Tell me about the last ten years since I’ve seen you.” I lead him into the kitchen where I get veggies out to wash and chop for a salad. He steps right in and helps, the two of us making a comfortable team.
“Well, let’s see, the short version is I went to college in Atlanta, graduated and came home to Love to take a job with the county. I play softball on the weekends and do some woodworking in my garage when I’m able.”
“Oh yeah? What kinds of things do you make?”
He shrugs. “Everything. Bookshelves, cabinets, picture frames. Once I even made a chair.”
“That’s amazing. I’d love to see your stuff sometime.” And despite my hesitancy to get too close to him, the compliment is real. “That’s what I love about my job: making something from nothing. Making it pretty.”
He smiles at me and keeps chopping. “You’ve always been pretty, so that makes sense to me.”
I freeze at his compliment, his words hitting too close to the topic of high school and everything that went on there. At some point, I’m sure we’re going to have to talk about Helena and my feelings back then, but for now, we’re getting along so well. I don’t want to break the friendly vibe we have going. And spilling my guts about my crush on him? No thanks!
“Thank you,” I murmur, going back to rinsing the lettuce.
“So. I was thinking.” He starts.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
His head whips up, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Ouch. Ink just drying on the marriage license and my wife makes fun of my intellect.”
I fight the blush that wants to creep onto my face over the term “wife.” “Hey, I agreed to marry you for a short while. I never agreed to be a doting wife.”
His eyes heat, the smile more of a smirk now. “I like that you have fire. I’ve never wanted a doormat for a wife. I’ve always been more attracted to someone who can keep me on my toes.”
I ignore the nerves that fire off rockets in my stomach. I shouldn’t care what type he’s attracted to, but I can’t help wondering. “I should have asked before, but I assume there’s no potential girlfriend pining over you being married now?”
