Page 6 of Honeymoon Phase
“What if I have too much pride for that, Evie-girl?”
“Love is stronger than pride.” Everly grabs my arms and forces me to look at her, her blue eyes bright with determination. “Best-case scenario, she falls in love with you back. Worst-case scenario... she doesn’t, and you’ve at least helped a friend out and kept her safe. But then you’ll know and can finally move on with your life.”
I pull my hat off and rake my hands through my hair, agonized over this place I find myself in. A few years ago, I never even wanted a girlfriend. Now I’m supposed to try to marry one of my closest friends as a manipulative way to get her to fall in love with me?
Jesus, I’m pathetic.
Then again, watching Roe marry a stranger sounds too painful to watch. Not to mention dangerous as fuck.
Maybe Everly is right. Maybe I could even convince myself that I’m simply encouraging my friend to marry me for her protection. That’s what a friend would do, not stand aside and leave her to face potential danger. I can’t let her do this with justanyone when I’m obviously the safer choice. I can help her with her situation and ensure her happiness and safety at the same time. That’s definitely what a friend would do.
And if in the end, she doesn’t share my feelings, I’ll accept that as her choice and let her do what’s best for her. Even though it will probably kill me.
“Let’s say she agrees to marry me this time. What then?” I ask, pushing the heaviness away from my chest as I pose this question to my college-aged niece.
Everly smiles victoriously. “Then the real fun begins, and we figure out how to make your wife fall in love with you.”
Chapter 3
Fact or Fiction?
Old men make good husbands.
Addison
“Marry me, Chuck,” I holler, throwing my hands out and kneeling before the forklift as the man old enough to be my father, and who was complaining of gout earlier this morning, climbs into the driver’s seat.
He barks out a wet cough and shakes his head, his face full of so many wrinkles, you could turn it into a maze. “I’m going to say no for a fourth time. I’m sorry, darling. You know I hate breaking your heart.”
I buzz my lips and stand to prop my hands on my hips. “Where’s Bullhead? He hasn’t said no to me this week yet.”
“But he said no last week. Why do you think his answer will change?”
I shrug. “He’s older than you, so I’m banking on him being a little senile.”
Chuck eyes me with zero humor on his face. “I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again. You ain’t gonna find any man in this lumberyard willing to say yes to you because everyone here knows your daddy. And if I walked up to your daddy and told him I’m marrying his twenty-eight-year-old daughter, I’d be watching a two-by-four break my nose and finding myself canned before the blood dried.”
“But I’m a lumberyard heiress, Chuck!” I stomp my foot dramatically. “I can buy you a new nose.”
“I’ll stick with the honker I got.” The forklift beeps a loudnoise as he backs up away from me and with a growl, I turn on my heel and make my way back into the building center.
I pause as I stare at our signage etched across the glass door.
Monroe Lumber and Building Center: Family owned since 1903
Apparently, that means fuck all to my father because he went and had tofall in love. Gross.
I stomp inside the building and make my way to the office in the back. It used to be my father’s throne, so it’s not much in terms of decor. Just a cheap veneer desk and filing cabinets covered in sawdust and cast-off office chairs that have seen better days. But the view of the lumberyard with the Front Range behind it is one that I’ve gotten used to and don’t feel like surrendering if it’s up to me.
And apparently, it is up to me. Me and my future unsuspecting husband. My phone buzzes in my back pocket and I pull it out to see my dad’s face on the screen like he knew I was thinking about him.
“What do you want, Old Man River?” I snipe into the line as I drop down onto my desk chair.
“Well, someone’s in a mood,” my father drawls. “You too busy for your old man?”
“Chuck turned me down again,” I grumble, propping my Converse platforms up on the desk.
“What about Bullhead?”
