Page 80 of Merging Wright

Mach is thoughtful for a minute. “I couldn’t wait to get out of these mountains,” he admits. He’s already told me how he wanted to leave, and his wife wanted to stay. He squints at the crackling fire. “I didn’t plan to ever come back here, and I hadn’t until now.”

“I’m sorry you had to return.” My voice softens, truly sorry he’s had to face some demons being here.

However, diminishing his return means I wouldn’t be here. And for me, being here has been life-altering, both because of Mach’s attention and the town’s restoration. I’m finding purpose I haven’t felt in years, even if my marriage and this project aren’t long-term. I’m saddened the time won’t be longer. I like Wrightwood.

Garrett once said Blue Ridge was the home he never knew he needed. Large spaces, pine trees, and the love of his life. Wrightwood feels similar to me with the river noise, the bustle of a small-town rebuilding, and Mach. Being with him has changed my life. As for love, I don’t expect Mach to ever feel about me the way I feel about him, but my heart knows the truth of my emotions.

I’m in love with my fake husband.

“You know, the place might be growing on me again. A little bit.” Mach glances back at me. The corner of his lip curls upward, teasing me.

“Just a little bit?” I joke, pinching my forefinger and thumb and then widening the space between them.

“Hey now. At least nine inches worth.”

“Nine?” I cough, laughing at the implication. It’s not like I’ve broken out a ruler to measure Mach, and while I’m certain he’s the biggest, thickest, lengthiest I’ve ever had, nine inches sounds extreme.

“At least larger than average. Admit it.” His cocky grin grows exponentially bigger.

“Oh, I can admit that.”

Mach laughs, hardy and rich before leaning toward me and lowering his voice. “Are you acknowledging that my dick is the best you’ve ever had?”

“Not that your ego needs the boost, but yes. Yes, you are the best.”

Mach hums, pleased with himself. “So are you, Mrs. Wright.”

He closes the distance between us for a quick kiss, and while I want to believe him, I don’t. Mach has been with tons of women over the years. I don’t want to be self-deprecating, but there’s no chance I’m his best.

While I give into the kiss, the wrongness of his comment lingers after he pulls back.

And I press at stable topics. “What about your brother?”

“What about him?” Mach’s eyes narrow. “He doesn’t have the best dick, and I don’t expect you to ever find out one way or another.”

“Not his dick.” I dismissively scoff. “I told you about Garrett, but what about you and Myles. Were you close when you were younger? You’re twins. Isn’t there some dynamic of sameness and reading each other’s minds and sharing thoughts?”

“Like sharing a wife?” Mach’s voice drops from the playful sound of seconds ago to bitter and rough.

“That isn’t what I’m asking, and if you don’t want to discuss him, we don’t have to. I’m just curious if before . . . if the two of you were close.”

Mach stares at the fire again. “When we were young, he was my best friend. For years, we were each other’s only friend. But while he got in good with Fischer, I didn’t. I was resentful of the years Fischer kept us in the Small House, not letting us into the bigger one. We were his family, but Fischer didn’t know the definition of the word.”

His comment puzzles me, considering Fischer left the town to both boys essentially, but I ask something else. “Were you and Myles competitive?”

“Define competitive.” He scoffs, lifting his glass for another sip of his wine. “We were always trying to outdo one another, but Myles won in the most important category. He had Fischer’s attention. I don’t know how exactly Myles did it, but the old man loved him and not me.”

“I doubt that’s true.” How can a grandparent dislike a grandchild? Then again, how can a father abandon his children? It happens.

Mach guffaws like something sour fills his mouth. “It doesn’t matter. I’m too old to harbor feelings of resentment anymore, and Fischer is dead.”

“Then maybe it’s time to make up with your brother.” The suggestion tumbles out before I consider how Mach might interpret it.

His previously warm brown eyes turn hard and distant as he glares at me.

Despite his declaration, he is still bitter about his grandfather’s lacking attention and his brother’s betrayal, whatever that might be. “I’m not defending Myles. I’m just—”

“Are you done with that?” He nods toward the sliver of wine in my plastic glass. Discussion over.