formal entry hall remodel, Paisley drove home. Exhaustion didn’t come close to describing her level of tired. Her feet throbbed. Her lower back ached, and her boobs had mysteriously swollen to twice the normal size.
She’d just dumped split pea soup in a pan to boil, then headed to her room to change into sweatpants and a roomy T-shirt when a knock sounded on her door. Wayne? Part of her hoped it was him, but another part just wanted to be left alone. In the face of Monica and Logan’s true commitment, Paisley’s sham marriage felt icky and wrong.
A look through the peephole showed Wayne standing outside.
The baby kicked. Was that a good or bad sign?
Rubbing her belly with one hand, she opened the door with her other. “Are you as sick of hashtag #Mogan as I am?”
Wayne groaned. “As part of my best man duties, Logan made me put on a T-shirt that read SEALing the Deal! #Mogan.”
“Eew. I have no doubt I’d have been in the same boat, only Monica couldn’t find a T-shirt big enough to fit over my belly.”
He laughed, then drew her into a welcome hug. “Sorry. That wasn’t funny. For the record, I think your bump is cute.”
“Thanks?” It should be criminal for a man to smell so good. Hints of sweat, sun and Irish Spring wrapped her in the cozy bliss of Wayne’s strong arms. If she were smart, she’d resist, pushing against him until reaching a safe distance that allowed her to think. This close, her only coherent thought was that she could stay like this forever. Which totally wasn’t happening, so she ushered him inside and shut the door before checking on her soup. “I should be scolding you popping in again unannounced, but we have bigger issues. What are you thinking for damage control? I guess the happy couple already told your mom we’re getting married and expecting.”
“Well...” He sighed, helping himself to her fridge. “You’ve gotta get more food.”
“I’d love to—assuming the baby follows this trend of actually allowing me to eat.”
“Right.” He shut the fridge door.
“Want some of my soup?”
He blanched.
“Okay, spill it,” Paisley said.
“Your soup?”
Hands on her hips, she frowned. “Really? Spill the reason why your complexion looks grayer than mine.”
He sighed. “You’re not going to like it. I don’t like it. Honestly? We should bail.”
“Is this about #Mogan?” She poured her soup into a mug, then joined him at her kitchen table that was a repurposed wrought iron patio set she’d painted white. Her protruding belly wouldn’t allow her anywhere near the table’s surface, so she cradled her mug and leaned back in her chair.
“Look, I don’t know any way to say this other than blurting it. My mom called and is expecting us to get married along with the happy couple. She’s arranged for our family pastor to perform the service and told me to show up with you and our license. She’s expecting a real marriage, but we—”
“Are just neighbors! What do you mean we’re getting married? Like she’s expecting a real wedding in front of God and everyone we know? It’s official, you’ve gone off the deep end. I don’t even have a dress.”
“We’ll find one.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Promise, everything will be fine. Besides, as soon as Dad... Well, we both know this is only temporary.”
The fact made her beyond sad.
But it was the truth.
Another truth? The more this sham relationship forced the two of them together, the more she saw that maybe Wayne was more of a stand-up guy than she’d always thought. He was handsome and sensitive. Funny. A safe driver. Great for fishing her flip-flops out from under her sofa. But legit husband material? Nope. Not happening. Her baby boy was all the testosterone she could handle.
For his dad, for the sake of their friendship, she had to play this sham marriage through to the tragic end.
“I’ve got an idea.” She set her mug on the table.
“Lay it on me.”
“What if we faked the license? I’m sure we can grab one online, then fill it out, but not file it. For that matter, you could even grab a legit one from the courthouse.”
Eyebrows raised, he asked, “You’d be okay with lying before our friends, my family and God?”
“How upset was your mother?”
“Sobbing. I’ve never heard her like that. But she wasn’t upset about Dad—but us. She was mad at me. I honestly don’t think she has a clue how bad off he is. Which means he’s either doing a miraculous job of hiding it from her, or there’s more to the story. She wouldn’t even talk about him. It was bizarre. But then he got on the phone and sounded happier than I’ve ever heard him. He was a new man. Didn’t even sound sick.”
“Grief affects everyone differently.”
“I suppose.”
“Or, maybe you’re right and he hasn’t told her. I can’t imagine how tough it would be for him to hide something like this, but I suppose if he’s determined it could be done. We won’t know for sure until we get there and see the two of them together.”
Arching his neck, he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefingers. “I’m sorry to have dragged you into this. We should probably call it off. I’ll come clean with my parents and—”
“No way. If this news made such a huge improvement in your dad’s entire demeanor, we should at least try. If he makes a full recovery and they figure out our marriage isn’t legit, we’ll deal with it then, but otherwise, for his sake, let’s roll with it.”
“You’re sure?” He held his hand out to her, only not to shake, but hold.
Her pulse quickened at his touch. Her attraction to her neighbor had Paisley unsure of her own name, let alone if this was a good or bad decision. But then he released her and she just as quickly rationalized this was a horrible decision—for her.
For Wayne’s poor, dying dad? It was the only way to go.
Paisley nodded. “Absolutely. Let’s do this.”
* * *
THE FRIDAY BEFORE the Easter weekend, after a grueling run and ocean swim, Wayne brushed sand from his base locker, beyond relieved for the weekend and to get off at the highly reasonable hour of 3:00 p.m.
He’d worked it out with his CO to have a week’s leave in conjunction with the Easter holiday. Logan had done the same. The plan was to leave next Thursday, celebrate and help with wedding prep, get married on Saturday, celebrate Easter Sunday, then depart for a brief honeymoon at some nearby swanky ranch/spa that Monica’s mother highly recommended.
Wayne
