Page 39 of Merging Wright

Playlist: “Yours” – Russell Dickerson

[Mach]

Jane wouldn’t look at me, but worse, she wouldn’t speak. Her behavior should have felt like a typical day at the office. She could run hot and cold, and I enjoyed that aspect of her temperament. Her silence now was more than I could bear, though.

That damn morning after. I should have kissed her back, proving to her our wedding night meant something to me. However, I didn’t respond to her because our night meant too much. The way I feel about Jane I haven’t felt since Tracy, and it’s . . . frustrating.

“Is that Jane?” Landon asks as I sit in the barber’s chair.

“Where?” I turn my head toward the window of The Barber Shop. A simple name for a simple place in the heart of Wrightwood.

“Whoa,” Landon cries out. He stands with the beard trimmer in hand, arms up. “Warn a man.”

Despite trimmers at my throat, I didn’t give a second thought to what Landon was doing when I swiveled to catch a glimpse of my wife.

“Where did you see Jane?” Sunshine streams through the window causing a clear view of the street, but I don’t see her.

“Walking on the other side of the street.”

Shit.

“I take it wedded bliss is going well,” Landon teases, resting a hand on my shoulder to settle me in place before returning to the heavy scruff on my face. I should have had a trim and a haircut before my wedding day. I should have handled a lot of things differently forty-eight hours ago.

“How did I get into this mess?” I mutter, casting my gaze to my boots.

Landon clicks the trimmer on again. “What mess? Marriage?” He tips my head back to clip along my jaw. “You can’t tell me being married to that woman is a hardship.”

Glad to see that even in his late sixties, Landon still recognizes a good-looking woman. Unfortunately, I don’t want him noticing how hot my wife is.

I want to be the only one aware of that ass and how it feels under my hands. Or those breasts and how they fill my palms. Or her mouth that kissed me like I was everything to her.

Deflecting a discussion about Jane’s physical assets, I snort. “She’s strong-willed.”

“Huh. Sounds like another woman I know.” Landon meets my gaze in the reflection of the mirror. He arches a brow for emphasis.

I know exactly who he means. “How do you and Ma fit in this farce?”

“Farce?” Landon crooks a smile. “I was simply your grandfather’s attorney. And let me assure you that document is solid.”

“So you knew the details in the will. But isn’t there some attorney-client confidentiality that slipped your mind when you told Ma about me needing a wife?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Landon’s smile curls into an all-knowing grin.

“Then tell me this. Why did he do it?”

Landon stops trimming and looks at me through the reflective glass. “Only that old man knows his reasons. But if I had to guess, I think he thought it was time for you to come home. Time to make amends with your brother. And time for your heart to move on.”

My forehead furrows. “Are you serious? Fischer never forgave anyone. The only hatchet Fischer would like to bury was one in my father’s back. And I’m not certain dear ole Granpa had a heart.”

“Son, every heart loves differently. I don’t believe old Fischer didn’t have a heart. He just didn’t always recognize the beat of it.”

Good God, Landon sounds like Ma and her fucking acushla thing.

“What’s going on with you and my mother?” I tip up my chin, risking Landon nicking me.

He stills, lowering his gaze. “Your mother and I are old friends.”

“Uh-huh. And?”