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“It’s the one bougie thing we Markhams do. And only once a year,” Kieran explained, reading my mind.
We ambled to the gate and picked up our baskets. The Markham family seemed perky, elbowing each other excitedly.
“Not many people out here, eh?” Tim beamed. “Got the place all to ourselves. This is what Kate and Wills must feel like.”
We started apple-picking, and I think I figured out why the Markhams were such huge fans of this get-together. They were all competitive asfuck. I’d seen less bad blood between the variousGame of Throneshouses. Kieran climbed those trees like a fangirl on a nineties rock star, trying to get to the high branches with the most untapped apples. Meanwhile, Tim jumped and swatted branches down, shaking tree trunks in a bid to get as much fruit as possible. Mrs. Markham resorted to gathering fallen apples from the ground, some of them squashed and inedible. The only person who didn’t try to outperform her family was Duffy. She looked pensive and thoughtful. I plucked apples from high-hanging branches, watching her alertly.
“Is your head okay?” Duffy asked about twenty minutes into the carnage her family was inflicting on the place.
“More or less.”
“Is it more, or is it less? Because I gave you two paracetamol. It should’ve done the job.”
“My head’s fine.” I gave her a WTF look. “Why so constipated, Poppins?”
“I’m allowed to be worried about my fake husband,” she said hotly.
“Aw.” I looped my arm around her shoulder, jerking her close to plant a kiss atop her head. “Is someone catching feelings?”
She huffed, “I need you alive to get a visa, remember?” It was ironic that Daphne had dreamed of a tiara growing up. She’d have nowhere to put it even if she had married a royal. The woman clearly had horns.
I chuckled bitterly, strolling into the thick of the apple orchard, wandering away from her family.
“When are you going to reschedule your appointment to the neurologist?” She followed me. She’d been going on about this like it was open-heart surgery.
“Soon.Ish.” I picked an apple from a branch midstride, took a juicy bite, and tossed it on the ground. “Why do you care?”
“I already said, I need—”
“Me for your visa. Right. Pretty sure I’ve got a few more months in me.”
She pressed her lips together, catching up with my pace. I was getting fed up with the hot mess referred to sometimes as our relationship. Us fucking, then reassuring one another that we didn’t give a shit. I ventured to the corner of the apple farm, looking to get away from the Markham clan. They were a good bunch, but not enough that I wanted them privy to our next conversation.
“Why are you like that?” Duffy was practically running after me.
“Like what?”
“You’ve been in a mood ever since I got back home from visiting Charlie yesterday.”
That’s because your boyfriend’s coming home and you’re not addressing the elephant in the room, even though the fucker took a huge dump and is stinking up the place.
“I’m not in a mood.” I picked an apple and cleaned it against my shirt. “Bored, maybe.”
“Do I bore you?” Her expression wilted, crestfallen.
Say no. Don’t be a dick. Don’t take your frustration out on her.
Running a hand over my face, I grunted, “It’s the whole situation. Nothing personal.”
“Fuck you, Riggs.”
“Right now?” I tsked. “No, thanks. But I’m thinking of maybe sampling the local crop later tonight.”
I didn’t know what I was saying or why I was saying this. I just knew I wanted to hurt her as much as it hurt me to think of her crawling back into that asshole’s arms once she realized he’d cut his trip short to get her back.
Duffy stopped behind me, and I knew immediately that I’d gone too far. I wished there was an unsend button on my mouth. I’d pay good money for one right now.
“Jolly good, then. Have fun with your local crop,” she spat out. “See if I care. All you’ve done since we first met was highlight how little you think of me. Well, congratulations. I finally feel as disposable as a plastic fork.”
