Page 45
I followed, grabbing a quick shower and changing to meet her by the door once she was ready. It wasn’t lost on me that as many problems as money had caused—for my family and for Alicia—in a ridiculous situation like this, being filthy rich actually wasn’t so bad after all.
CHAPTER 22
ALICIA
Holden and I stood in the home goods store, bickering like an old married couple. In all my idle fantasies of what it would be like being married one day when I was all grown up, I’d never have guessed that a place like this would be the location of my first official marital dispute with my husband.
As it was, however, we stood in the brightly lit appliance aisle, facing off in front a gleaming monstrosity made of polished chrome and covered in digital touchscreens. Holden motioned toward it, digging in his heels as he shook his head.
“It connects to the internet, Alicia. We’d be able to start grinding the beans before we even leave our beds in the morning,” he argued passionately. “Plus, it has a built-in milk-emulsifying chamber and it comes with an app. Think about walking into the house out of the freezing cold this winter and finding a piping hot, fresh cup of coffee waiting for you after a long day of work.”
As good as that sounded—and it really did sound amazing—the machine looked like a state-of-the-art piece of equipment stolen from a NASA laboratory, and it had a price tag to match. “It costs the same as a brand-new, mid-range SUV, Holden. I refuse to spend that much money on a coffee machine.”
Playfully moving his hand away from the pristine keypad he was flicking through options on, I pointed it toward an appliance on the other side of the aisle. “Let’s get the drip machine. It’s red, which is pretty funky, and it’s got a clock. That’s fancy enough for something that only needs to put caffeine in a cup.”
“It’s forty-five dollars,” Holden said.
I shrugged. “That’s the beauty of it. When it breaks, we’ll get a new one, and in the meantime, we won’t have to worry about it attempting to gain sentience and overthrowing the household.”
His eyes narrowed in what appeared to be genuine bewilderment. “Why are you fighting me on this? I’m trying to give you a machine that creates liquid gold and here you are, campaigning for a plastic bucket with a heating coil.”
“That plastic bucket with the heating coil is perfectly sufficient for our needs,” I shot back, crossing my arms. “Unless you have a plan I don’t know about to start a high-end coffee shop, we do not need the fanciest espresso machine in the history of mankind.”
He stared at me for a long moment, surprise registering on his features before he sighed. “You really are this frugal, aren’t you?”
“I am.” I felt a smile I didn’t want to fight start on my lips. “Did you really think I was so much of a gold digger that I’d marry you for a coffee machine smarter than the both of us combined?”
Holden sucked his teeth, but he didn’t deny it. “Honestly, I don’t know what I thought, but I definitely expected more than a forty-five-dollar drip machine.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you.” I grinned and bumped my shoulder against his bicep. It was as close as I could get to bumping it against his shoulder. “Think about it this way, if we get the cheap one, we can always have this argument again in a year or two.”
I’d meant it as a joke, but a strange gleam entered his eyes, like he was only just realizing he and I might still be together in that amount of time. Then he shook his head. “Only a fool pays twice. We’re getting the big one. Consider it in an investment in our future.”
“How about we start with a little investment and work our way up from there?” I asked, but Holden had already waved over a sales assistant. “Seriously, we don’t need—”
He spun back toward me, those blue eyes suddenly vibrant and alive. God, I didn’t know a coffee machine meant that much to him.
“We don’t need it, but we both want it, so why not?” he said. “You can afford it now, Alicia, but so can I, so I’m buying it for us as a wedding gift. Happy belated I-do day.”
As I gaped at him, he motioned at the machine, and a few minutes later, the sales assistant was helping us load it into Holden’s car. I shook my head, but there was no use arguing. It was already done.
For the rest of the afternoon, although neither of us spoke about it, we ran errands like a real married couple would on a crisp Sunday afternoon. We went to the dry cleaners, stopped by the post office, and eventually ended up at the grocery store, pushing a squeaky metal cart through the produce aisle. Holden squinted suspiciously at the green sprigs I’d tossed in, bending over to read the label.
“Why are we buying fresh rosemary?” he asked. “Are we landscaping the kitchen?”
“No, but I’m making garlic-herb roast chicken tonight,” I said, picking out a bag of fingerling potatoes. “I like to cook. It helps me unwind after a long day of reading fairy tales to toddlers.”
He tried, but failed, to hold back a laugh. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“Nope.”
“Fine.” He started pushing the cart forward again, dutifully pausing whenever I did and waiting for as long as it took before I’d selected whichever item I’d been after. “You know, you like to cook and I like to eat. I hate having to admit it, but from where I’m standing, that makes us a match made in heaven.”
My heart gave a tiny, elated flip, but I picked up a lemon and dropped it into the cart, not wanting to read too much into anything. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Thayer. You haven’t tasted my food yet. You might still want to divorce me by dessert.”
“I have a remarkably high tolerance for bad food,” he countered, his voice carrying a gentle, teasing tone that made my ears burn. “I doubt that’ll be an issue. If you had any idea what I’ve eaten, you’d know that even burned chicken that tastes like dust is a marked improvement.”
He flashed me a smirk that edged us into flirty territory, and weirdly, it didn’t stop there. We were both restrained about it, but we kept tossing little quips back and forth, treading carefully while also falling into a surprisingly easy, fun rhythm together.
