Page 12 of Double

She sucked her teeth. I kept eating. “Fine,” she finally huffed out. “As your wife⁠—”

I cut her off again. “Yeah, I like the way that sounds.”

“Ugh!” She frowned at me before picking up her plate and leaving the table.

I didn’t follow her. If we were going to form a real friendship, she would have to get used to my personality quirks, just like I would have to get used to hers. It was better to show her the real me, rather than woo her into a false sense of security. I kept eating.

Less than a minute later, she returned. “As your wife,” she started as she retook the seat across from me. “I would like it if we ate our meals at this table and talked to each other instead of being distracted.”

I made eye contact with her. “I like that idea. You got that. Starting with dinner or breakfast tomorrow?”

“Maybe breakfast.” She covered her yawn with a dainty hand. “I might sleep through dinner.”

“Listen. I know this isn’t the situation you saw for yourself, but outside of the obvious, are you cool?”

She breathed out a sigh that was heavy with the weight of everything she probably felt at the moment. “I’m glad that instead of being at my wedding, I’m away from that situation. I’m still pissed, though. Not like, at you or at anybody in particular, outside of Gretchen and Sterling Gillespie. I’m just pissed at the whole thing. The fact that my aunt was willing to trade me, a whole human, in an effort to save a company and get her hands on my money. The whole thing makes me want to flip everything over. And in order to avoid that, I literally had to leave my business, my apartment, and basically everything I’ve ever known. I had to be kidnapped/rescued under the cover of night, marry a different stranger, and be airlifted out of my home country. To be honest, I haven’t even processed all of this. Nothing even seems real to me.”

“Damn. You’re right. I hate that shit.”

“I know this is a long shot, but do you think there’s any way I could get some of my belongings from my apartment back in Felicidad? Probably not, huh?”

“Nah. That’s not likely. Gillespie probably has your place under twenty-four-hour surveillance.”

“Well.” She exhaled. “At least most of the things that I treasured are at Velvet & Vintage. Maybe one day, in a hundred years, Faylise can send them to me.”

“What’s Velvet & Vintage?”

“My company. Faylise, you know my friend that the cocky guy with the gun knocked unconscious? She’s my business partner. We do event design.”

“Word?”

She stared at me.

“It means, like, for real? Are you serious?”

The giggle that floated into the air was soft and sweet. “I’m gonna learn to speak and understand American slang.”

“Black American slang.”

“Black American slang,” she corrected. “Yes, word. I’m serious. We started the business eight years ago, right out of university. It’s taken a minute, but we’ve finally been seeing growth.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do this. You didn’t turn my life upside down. Gretchen and her scheme did this. In a weird way, you’re the hero of my story.”

I was shaking my head before she even got the entire statement out. “Nah. I’m not looking to be nobody’s hero. Just let me be your husband. There’s enough pressure in trying to get that right.”

“Since there’s no way I can get my stuff, I’ll need clothes.” She gestured up and down herself. “These are all the clothes I have. I grabbed the duffle from Gretchen’s place, not even realizing it was basically empty. This outfit is the only thing that was in it. I have no clothes.” She gave a plaintive sigh. “No panties. No money. No phone.”

“You have your ID, though, right?”

She nodded.

“Clothes, money, and phones, I can replace.”

“Thank you. I’ll pay you back as soon as Judge Bosco’s able to get them to release the money in my trust.” She threw up her hands. “But who knows when that will be?”

I picked up both of our empty plates and took them to the kitchen. When I got back to the dining room, her head was on the table. Small sobs floated from her lips. When my hand landed on her shoulder, she sat up.