Page 53 of The Work Wife

“Please let me take care of your bag, princess. It’s man’s work.” He winked at her, and she rolled her eyes as he dragged her limping suitcase across the parking lot.

“And I don’t believe you about the boobs comment. For someone who doesn’t care about my boobs, you were sure checking them out in my dress at Wedding Part Deux.”

“Maybe I was, but they started it. They were checking me out first.”

She laughed and led him to her car, where he heaved her bag in and turned to her.

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“Monday.” She nodded.

“Should I pick you up so it looks like we live together?”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” She frowned and looked up at the gray blah of the sky. Then she shook her head. “You usually go in before me. That would be a good reason for not driving together.”

“That’s right, screw gas prices and efficiency. We shall not wake the princess forty minutes earlier so she doesn’t have to battle traffic. That would be lunacy.”

“I think I’m over the princess thing. I’ll pick you up on Monday since you’re on my way.”

“You promise not to leave a huge space between you and the car in front of you so everyone in Boston can cut in front of us?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“It’s called a safety buffer. If we were supposed to ride so close to the person in front of us, there would be hooks linking us together and it would be called a train.”

“Safety buffers are for Southerners.”

And with that, the sneaky sky let loose its secret plan for the day. Sleet.

“Fuck you, Boston,” she muttered, and got in her car.

* * * *

Wes unlocked the door to his apartment and went in, braced for the silence that greeted him every night. It had been a lot of fun spending the week with Jamie and her dad. There hadn’t been much silence. He’d been part of a real family.

Granted, part of that family was reluctant and rather off-putting, but it was still more sincere than his own family. And Mr. Witmer had warmed up in the end. He’d even called him son instead of The Husband.

He smiled at the memory as he carried his bag to the laundry room and started the washer. Like normal, he threw everything into one load, not having enough for two. He knew Jamie would probably be doing the same thing at the Laundromat.

He couldn’t help but wonder if they would have enough to do lights and darks if they put their laundry together like real married people.

With a sigh he went out to check his kitchen for food. The milk had lost the battle. Wes took a deep breath and held it before dumping it down the drain.

He flopped down on the sofa and turned on the television. If he desperately wanted some company he could log on to a game. But he wasn’t up for it. Those people wouldn’t care that he was newly married. They didn’t know him well enough to know he hadn’t been married before. Except maybe by the fact that he spent hours every night gaming instead of doing whatever husbands normally did.

He went for groceries and finished his laundry. Then he sat on his sofa and looked around his empty living room.

“This sucks,” he said to no one.

He sent Jamie a message a few minutes later. What are you up to?

Laundry.

He’d gotten it right. Do you want to get breakfast tomorrow? He couldn’t imagine spending an entire day in his apartment alone.

Sounds good. Kline’s?

Nine?

Ten. She answered back.