Page 20 of Marrying the Underboss

I look over at Kane and he gives me a curious glance and a cocky smile. “We just got married a few weeks ago,” I answer.

She smiles at her husband who has walked over to stand beside her. He wraps his arm around her shoulders and kisses the side of her head. “We’ve been married for over forty years. Want me to tell you the secret for a happy marriage?” He asks, looking at Kane.

He nods then reaches out from across the table to squeeze my hand, rubbing his thumb over the ring I put back on my finger for our outing. I told myself it was because I wanted to go along with our story, but I was excited to put it back on my finger.

“It couldn’t hurt. I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep her,” he says, staring at me intently.

“Aww, young love.” the wife croons.

“It’s really easy. You just have to trust each other. It’s you and her against the world. Nothing else matters. Do that, and make sure you two keep talking, and you’ll keep this sweet girl for the rest of your life.”

Kane looks at me. “I can do that.”

Chapter Twelve

KANE

Once we left the restaurant,things shifted between Jennifer and me. She stands closer to me and smiles more. She’s more open than ever, laughing and playing while we run our errands. We go grocery shopping, getting everything and more off the list, probably going overboard, but not wanting to be without for however long this storm lasts. I make sure to get enough cases of water and some charcoal for the grill. We also got a ton of junk food and snacks that Jennifer assured me were essential. I couldn’t tell her no.

When we get home, we work together to put the groceries away, and then Jennifer starts making a large pot of chili and some jalapeño cheddar cornbread. She’s not only a great baker, but the woman can cook her ass off. I’ve probably gained ten pounds since we’ve been here, not that I care.

I start a fire as the first snow begins to fall. I’m at the dining room table on my computer, and Jennifer is sitting on the couch reading a book she got at the grocery store when the power goes out.

“Well, that didn’t take long,” she laughs and sets her book down on the side table next to her. “How long do you think it will be out for?”

I stand and stretch my arms above my head. “It's a good bet it will be out until after the storm.”

“We should probably sleep in here tonight, in front of the fire, you know, to keep warm,” She stammers.

It’s hard to see, but I swear she’s blushing. “Good idea. I’ll move the mattress in here if you’ll light the candles we put out earlier.”

“Ok,” she smiles.

Thirty minutes later, the living room is transformed into a bedroom with the king mattress in front of the fire. Jennifer ultimately took over and made the bed with all the pillows and blankets we have in the house.

“What should we do now?” She asks.

“Want to eat?” I suggest.

“Sure,” She shrugs and walks into the kitchen. I walk in behind her, and we make our bowls of chili and cornbread. There is no need to talk; we move around each other seamlessly. The act is so simple, so domesticated, so fucking perfect. How could she think we wouldn’t work?

Over the past few weeks, we’ve learned a lot about living with one another. The only place we butt heads is when it comes down to her being with me since I work with her dad. Could I give that up for her? Would she ask me to? I crave the darkness my ‘job’ affords me. Too much fucked up shit has gone down in my life to settle and be like everyone else.

I can also appreciate where she’s coming from, not wanting to be a part of something that took someone so important away from her. Now she knows how much I understand what she’s gone through. Over the course of a day, our differences don’t seem so big. I haven’t given up hope that someday soon, wecan find common ground. Once I deal with fuck face, we can go home and begin our life together.

We eat at the table surrounded by a soft glow of candlelight. “Your chili is amazing.”

“Thank you,” She beams at me. “I’ve always loved to bake, but since we’ve been here, I’ve really gotten into cooking too. It’s one of those things I don’t get to experiment with as much during the school year.”

“Is teaching something you want to continue doing for a long time?” She scrunches up her nose, making me laugh. “I guess not.”

“I don’t know. I always thought it was what I’d do until I retired, but now I’m realizing it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Just because you became a teacher doesn’t mean you have to do it forever. If you want to do something else, do it. Don’t waste your life doing something you don’t love.”

She holds up her wine glass. “You’re right. Here’s to not wasting our lives and going after what we really want.”

Holding up my whiskey glass, I clink it against hers. “I can drink to that.”

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