Page 37 of Merging Wright

“There’s not much to tell.” How could I explain myself? Did I say I was doing Mach a favor? Did I tell her it was all an act? Did I mention that this would make me partner? The idea made me feel like I’d sold myself to the devil, and in many ways I had. Volde-Mach. I needed a new term for him. He was worse than innocent Harry Potter’s nemesis. He was worse than Darth Vader, Darth Maul, and any other Darth out there. In my opinion, Mach defined the dark side.

I hated how much he had hurt me.

To my dismay and surprise, Mach made it to our bed last night. After our wedding brunch, a few men convinced him to join them for drinks at a place in town called Trophy’s.

He didn’t get a proper bachelor party, Myles had mocked. Did Myles have any inkling to the bachelor-ness of his brother? Sleeping around, breaking hearts was all in a night’s work for Super-Mach, the anti-hero.

At some uncertain hour, Mach had fallen next to me on the old spring mattress. He’d turned toward me, but I’d refused to look over my shoulder at him. The moment reminded me of nights with Ripley near the end of our relationship. An end I hadn’t seen coming.

Again, stupidest lamb in the flock.

For an intelligent woman and smart businessperson, I’m dumb about love. And sex. I was spot on in my five facts about Mach. He valued honesty. He lacked intimacy. He was upfront about what he wanted, and he didn’t want me.

Only one night. I’d gotten the memo loud and clear the following morning.

The interesting thing about Mach coming to our bed last night though, was by this morning, his ankle was wrapped over mine like it had been when we fell asleep on our wedding night. In fact, both his ankles held my leg hostage, curling around mine like a manacle. I should have kicked his feet free of touching mine, but instead, I’d taken a foolish moment to absorb his heat, enjoy skin to skin, before slipping out of bed.

“It’s so irresponsible of you.” Mae’s chuckle snaps me back to the moment. “I mean, maybe irresponsible is the wrong word. Just spontaneous. I’m so proud of you.”

Pride is the last emotion I have at the moment.

“Why wasn’t Tucker at the funeral?” I already know why he couldn’t attend our wedding. Six hours to initiate a plan and implement it isn’t enough time to hop a flight to West Virginia.

“Mach was adamant he needed Tucker at the office. We’re in Chicago now.”

My sister owns a flower shop and garden center in a small town in northern Michigan. Mae’s Flowers is her joy next to her two grown boys. Since Mae and Tucker have declared their love for each other, Tucker spends a large portion of his time working remotely from my sister’s home. With Mach’s absence, it makes sense Tucker should be in the office.

“What did Tucker tell you about Mach and me?”

Mae sighs. “He mentioned Mach was excited to be married to you. Tucker is surprised but just as thrilled as I am.” My sister pauses. “I didn’t know you two had hooked up.”

Oh, we’d hooked up alright. Hook, line, and sink me in that river. The words are perfect for a country love song.

“Yeah, it was kind of a last-minute thing.” I didn’t know what direction to take this conversation. I didn’t know how much information I could, or should, share. While neither Mach nor I saw our current status coming, we still need to present a united front. At least in front of our clients, which happen to be the entire town of Wrightwood.

The idea sparks some energy, reminding me our arrangement is business. I can do this. I can get through our situation if I focus. If I had to stand by and watch Ripley do what he did to me, I can handle this heartbreak as well. Then again, the current ache in my chest feels so much worse. The cheerleading act isn’t exactly working but, if I give myself this pep talk every day, the lie might eventually sink in.

We are saving a town. That is the plan.

The idea adds a little more umph to my self-motivation speech. This could be good for me. I love a challenge.

And you’ll be partner after this year. The statement isn’t as inspiring as it should be. For eight years, a partnership has been my personal end-goal. A lot of things can happen in a year, and a year out of the office is a long time. But as Mach said, we can take things month-by-month. For now, I need a minute-by-minute distraction because working side-by-side with Mach for three-hundred and sixty-five days is going to be hell. Like devastating to my soul because I now know what he feels like inside me and how he can kiss and the romantic way he is without realizing he’s being romantic.

“Mae, I hear Mach calling me for breakfast. Can I call you back a little later?” The lies are adding up and I hold my breath, surprised at how easily they roll off my tongue.

Like the one where I convince myself I don’t want Mach.

“No more Volde-Mach, huh? I’m so happy for you,” Mae gushes through the phone. She is the romantic among us Fox sisters, wanting the fairy tale of husband and home. She got it alright, but along with her marriage came years of misery. Her kids and her business are her greatest achievements, she’d told me once. Her happily-ever-after came after her divorce.

Maybe mine will too.

One year.

“Yeah. Happy,” I mutter.

“Jane?” Mae pauses.

I don’t want her to worry about me. I’m the worrier in the family. I’m the responsible one. As she pointed out, spontaneity isn’t synonymous with Jane. I organize. I strategize. I schedule.