Page 116 of Merging Wright

And I’d do it again because I’m foolish like that. I fell in love with a town.

My actions were for a village, but I wouldn’t succumb to Mach. Not his tender touch. Not his vulnerable eyes. Not his soft voice.

“Let’s fix this town and finish.” I restore my earlier resolve. I’m here for Wrightwood. Mach can get his life back, and I can move on.

“If that’s all you want, baby.”

I close my eyes again at the sweet endearment and lie once more. “That’s all I want.”

53

Playlist: “Burning” – Sam Smith

[Mach]

Jane might be back in the house, but she isn’t in our bed. She isn’t even in our room, and I start searching the other bedrooms Ma will soon turn into guest rooms for her future inn.

In one of them, I find Jane on a bed, curled on her side, tablet in hand. The low light on the side table is the only glow in the dark space.

We’ve circled one another throughout the remainder of the day. She thought she had some explaining to do to the businesses on Bridge Alley, and the best way to restore their faith in her was to jump in. I didn’t have a doubt she’d win them back over. Most businesses were completed. People in general adored Jane.

Thankfully, Riverbank Mercantile Co. and The Barber Shop didn’t have much damage other than some exterior charring. Trixie’s Trim was a complete loss, but Ma had insurance. Both the old salon and the vacant space were being rebuilt. Three weeks wouldn’t restore them completely, but the exterior should be finished in time for Kringle Fest.

Despite Jane’s distance, I can’t seem to stay away from her. I flop onto her bed while she keeps her back to me.

“You quit, but where are you going to go?” Anxiety laces concern in my rugged tone. I can’t believe she left Impact.

“Worried about competitors?” Her voice is sharp as she shifts to look over her shoulder at me. She’s so beautiful. Sad, but still stunning with those piercing blue eyes. I miss her smile. I’ve erased it from her face. And this snappy attitude might remind me of office-Jane, but I want Jane-my-wife.

“No, I’m not worried about the competition. But . . .” I swallow around a question I hate to ask. I stare at the ceiling above me when I do. “Are you staying in Chicago?”

Jane flips to her back and rolls her head to face me. “I’m certain our paths won’t cross, Mr. Wright.”

I swipe a hand down my face. “Would you stop it?” Running into her is the last thing I’m concerned about. Her running away from me is my fear.

Jane exhales. “I made a promise to this town, and I keep my promises.”

The censure in her tone isn’t missed. I’ve disappointed her and I roll my head to face her. “Jane.”

She huffs. “If you had told me, even the next day. If you had said, I made a mistake, Jane. Or apologized for bribing me but explained that you still needed me to pretend to be your wife; I would have done it.”

I don’t believe it could have ever been that easy.

And I won’t apologize for asking her to be my pretend wife. Not when I want her for real.

I shift entirely, lying on my side and holding up my head with my hand. “Why?” Why would she still have done whatever I asked? I should know the answer. Myles said my eyes weren’t open because my heart was closed, but my heart is open now. What am I still not seeing?

“Because I’m a fool, Mr. Wright.” Jane looks up at the ceiling. Blinking rapidly, she whispers. “Romantic to the core.”

She blows out another breath. “But you told me there is no romance in marriage. I mean, you were right. Mae didn’t have it with her ex-husband, Adam. And my mother didn’t have it with my father. I should thank you for the reminder. They were all acts. We can be one more on your list.”

My brows lift. “You don’t think we had romantic moments?” My mind wanders to all the places we christened in town. All the nights we shared in a different bedroom. How we danced during Trophy’s Frank-N-Steins party. Our day dates, especially the Wine Cellar Park. Our wedding night.

I hate how cynical she sounds, and I hate that I’m the one who caused this new opinion.

While Jane swipes at her eye, I ask, “Baby, why are you crying?”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. Taking a deep breath, she opens her lids and stares up at the ceiling again. “It doesn’t matter. I have my own list to write.”