Page 35 of Honeymoon Phase
But on Luke? This mustache? I squint as I take in the sight of him again. I hate to admit it, but I think it’s working for him. It’s got this rustic, effortless quality to it. Thick and sloped downward on his upper lip with a little bit of playful character to it. It’s giving confident, mature, masculine. His beard did that too, but this makes Luke stand out a bit from his brothers. A little... originality. A thirty-three-year-old has to be confident to rock a ’stache, right?
“I’m not mad at it,” I state with my voice rising in pitchdramatically. My eyes drop to his square jaw where he has four stitches etched into the front of his chin. “I’ve just never seen your chin before so it took a second to adjust.”
“They had to shave my chin in the ER and asked if I wanted to keep the ’stache. I was a little loopy on muscle relaxers when I said yes but it’s growing on me.” He rubs his face and a flush of color darkens his cheeks as I blatantly inspect him.
I smile and then frown as I continue my ogling, only to balk at what he’s wearing. “You’re dressed up,” I state accusingly as I take in his tan slacks, white shirt, and brown dress shoes.
“Well, we have an appointment to get married,” he says, adjusting his collar.
“I know, but it’s not real,” I reply with a frown.
“I know, but we’re going to see your dad afterward, so I want to look respectable,” he says, cutting me a look. “Plus I wasn’t sure if we’d need to take pictures or something.”
“Well, shit,” I exclaim, glancing down at my work jeans and dirty Converse. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“You look great.” Luke waggles his brows playfully and I shove him in the shoulder.
“Go to my house, I need to change.”
With a heavy sigh, Luke turns on the next road and makes his way to my side of town. When he pulls up in front of my building, he says, “Our appointment with the clerk is in twenty minutes, so you better hurry.”
“I’ll be freaky fast!” I call out as I hop out of his truck and run up the steps to my apartment, already knowing what I’m going to wear because I was cataloging my whole wardrobe on the way here. I have the perfect outfit that was a bit of an impulse purchase last year after I became obsessed with Caitlin Clark. She’s a former Iowa Hawkeye basketball player who wore this stunning Prada outfit to the WNBA draft. I found a dupe of it and bought it without having a single place to wear it becauseI still had to have it. And weirdly, I feel like it’s been waiting for this occasion.
It’s a white satin blazer with a matching miniskirt and underneath I have this loose, cropped rhinestone top. It’s a little sexy with a little class—a combo I enjoy on the rare occasions I have to get dressed up. Since I hate wearing heels, I finish the ensemble with my black platform Converse that don’t look like they’ve been worn around a lumberyard all day. Taking a few minutes in the bathroom, I add a bit of mascara and blush and spray myself with some perfume before unclipping my hair and rifling my fingers through it, then I finally rush out the door and back into Luke’s truck.
I buckle up and yank the mirror down to add a touch of lip gloss. “What are you waiting for?” I ask, when I notice he still hasn’t pulled away from my building.
I turn and find him staring slack-jawed at me. “You just had that outfit lying around?”
“Do you think it’s too much for the clerk’s office?” I glance down at my exposed legs that probably would have looked ten times better with some shimmery lotion.
“No, it’s not too much. It’s perfect. You look...” Luke clears his throat and I glance up to see him blinking rapidly. “You look beautiful, Roe.”
My chin trembles at that very sweet, very heartfelt compliment. “I was just trying to rise to your level, man. You clean up good, Fletcher.”
One perk to Luke losing his beard? I can see him blush. And that boy is flaming red as he puts the truck in Drive and makes his way to the clerk’s office to marry me. Who knew I had to marry my best friend to get him to stop being mad at me? What a sap.
Ten minutes later, Luke is pulling into a parking spot of the county clerk building and he holds a finger up to me as he hopsout of the vehicle, rushing over to my side of the vehicle to open my door.
What a move.
He holds his hand out to me to help me out of his truck, his eyes dropping to my legs briefly before flashing back up to my face. Now I feel like my cheeks are suddenly really hot too. This whole moment reminds me of Mexico all over again. We’re like two weirdos not used to seeing each other in nonwork clothes and forgetting how to behave like civilized adults.
As we walk the tall flight of concrete steps up into the old building, Luke asks, “So are you going to keep your apartment, then?”
“Yes, I’m going to keep my apartment. Why? What do you mean?”
Luke opens the door to the building and steps back. “I mean, paying rent for a whole year at a place you’re not living in seems like a waste, no?”
“I guess so,” I reply, considering that thought. “I don’t really want to lose it though.”
“Maybe you can sublease?”
“Yeah, maybe,” I reply as we make our way through security.
We probably should have sat down and ironed out some of the specifics of this arrangement beyond the prenup, which I emailed him after he got home from the ER. I paid a lawyer a pretty penny to draw up a contract that basically says we leave with what we came into the marriage with, so whomever I marry can’t retroactively decide he wants half the lumberyard.
Not that I’d worry about Luke ever doing that. But when I was trying to find guys on Tinder to marry... hell yes, I needed a legal, binding contract. I need to protect my family legacy as well as myself.
