Page 15 of Honeymoon Phase
“Let me know when you’re ready to discuss,” Luke says before turning on his heel and walking out to my front deck like he’s conducting a damn business meeting and not hitting me with his second marriage proposal in only a few months.
“Shit, shit shit,” I hiss under my breath, irritation crawling up my back. We just got past the last marriage proposal and things were finally starting to feel normal again between the two of us. Why does he keep doing this to me?
My hand shakes as I hold up the white printer paper, terrified of what I’ll find inside. Another awkward letter. I thought the last one he gave me in my office at the lumberyard was a joke and I started laughing instantly.
It wasn’t until he hightailed it out of there that I realized he was serious. I know it was mean to laugh, but it’s what I do when I’m uncomfortable. But marry Luke?Let him see all my flaws up close and personal?My God, if I wanted that, then I’d want a real marriage. But that’s not what I want.
The idea of marrying my closest guy friend makes me uncomfortable. Stir-crazy. Unsettled. All the not comfy feelings I can think of. We’d cross a boundary that can never be uncrossed, and he could discover that he can’t stand me and then simply...
Leave me.
Which is why I’d rather marry a stranger, so that after a year, when no deep and meaningful friendship has been formed, we simply part ways. I’ve told Luke this. What the hell is he having trouble comprehending about that? Doesn’t he like just being my friend? Isn’t that easier? God, when he walked into my apartment tonight, I wanted to hug the shit out of him. He’s like... my favorite person in the world and that’s saying a lot because I don’t like most people. But he makes me feel at ease. Watching him sweat while eating my jambalaya was the highlight of my night—even if he was quieter than normal—and now that’s all out the window.
With a deep growl, I unfold the paper to see what he’s written and get this shit over with. My brows furrow when I notice it’s not a letter but a pros and cons list.
Okay... that’s different.
Pros & Cons to Marrying Your Friend
Pros:
I have my own job and am part owner of my own company. I neither want nor need your lumberyard dynasty and recognize the general badassery of you being the sole owner of a business in a male-dominated industry. Slay, Queen.
I own a large cabin we can cohabitate in with spectacular views and a spare bedroom you can sleep in, so this marriage will remain one of convenience and not one of nakedness.
I put the toilet seat down... no exceptions.
I am a food enthusiast and whilst I do not possess the abilities to make the international delicacies you excel at, I vow to clean up after every meal and give you a five-star rating. I will also happily run to the store for missing ingredients that inevitably pop up with culinary experiments.
You’d be safe from all the creeps out there.
And most importantly, I am your friend. If you can’t marry your friend, who can you marry?
Cons:
I have a big cock. He roosts on my front porch and sometimes comes inside my cabin. His name is Rufus, and he crows at 6:04 a.m. every day. If he shows any cock-like aggression towards you, I will move him back to the barn. You will be my number one hen.
Moving to Fletcher Mountain means a small commute to Boulder for work every day but you can join the Fletcher Brother carpool. Wyatt is a stickler about our carbon footprint.
Your father hates me. No good workaround for that reality I’m afraid.
I have brothers who are my neighbors. They are obnoxious and nosy and will most likely be pains in our asses. You’ve been warned.
With all this said, I believe with perseverance we can work through these difficulties and form a happy, platonic union. Let us merge our families at your earliest convenience so you can fulfill the feminist destiny you were born to achieve.
Your friend,
Luke Fletcher
Okay, I’m not laughing this time. Not laughing at all. Not... laughing... A nervous giggle bubbles up my throat and I slap my hand over my mouth to try to hide it.Fuck! Stop laughing, Addison. You’re going to push him away again and he’s the only man in the world who seems to be able to tolerate you these days.
Get your shit together, Monroe!
I blow out a slow breath and attempt to look at this list more critically. He wants me to move onto Fletcher Mountain for a year? Is he unhinged? I’ve only been up there, like, twice in my life. And didn’t he tell me once they can get snowed in for days up there? I won’t survive that kind of isolation. What would we even do for days together? I’m a tomboy for the most part but I can’t do off-grid. I need groceries and snow removal and signs of life around me.
But if I said yes to this and we lived here, I know for a fact Luke wouldn’t take my bedroom and let me have the couch. He’s too noble and shit. Damn him.
Rereading the list, I snicker at the big cock comment. Luke is a good writer. Not something I would have suspected of a burly mountain man. Then again, he has cinnamon roll energy. He’s sweet and sensitive and gooey on the inside. No wonder he’s good at expressing himself.
