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“Okay then. Budget is no issue, understood. What else?”
“I need a spacious living room, an airy kitchen, and a sex swing.”
“An air—hold up, what now? Sexwhat?”
“Sex swing,” he says, nodding. “For when we entertain. Didn’t I mention? We’re getting intoswinging.”
I groan, face in my hands. “That has to be the worst joke in the entire world. I’m serious, Gareth, I can’t decide if I’m offended because of the jab at my parents or offended because it’s so lame.”
“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”
“Honestly, I’ve never been less attracted to you right now.”
He leans closer, eyes sparkling. “When were you themostattracted to me then?”
I glance at him, thinking back to that moment in the outdoor shower. My cheeks turn red. “I plead the fifth, counselor.”
“Oh, I know what you’re thinking.” His voice drops an octave. “Does it involve sun and sand? Maybe some water?”
“Easy there.” I jump to my feet, clearing my plate. “You barely talk to me all week and now you want to reference our sexual escapades?”
“Escapade. Singular. And yes, you’re crazy if you think I’m not always thinking about it.” He helps me carry the dishes into the kitchen. I refill my wine, chewing my lip.
“Seriously, if you’re always thinking about it, why the silence for the last week?”
He looks away, body language tensing. I worry I’m losing him as he turns and walks into the living room. I follow at a distance, not sure what’s going on in his head. I could back down, return to the status quo, to awkward silences and long absences, but I don’t want that.
He pauses near the windows, looking out at the night, at the spots of light, at Dallas spread out along the ground like blackened wood.
“I’ve asked a lot of you, Fiona,” he says, not looking at me. “Maybe more than I should have.”
I move closer to him. “Not really. I got a free beach trip. I met some very nice criminals. Overall, it’s been easy pretending to be your wife so far.”
His lips twitch slightly, like he’s trying not to smile. “You’re lying to people. You’re pretending to be something you’re not. You’re in more danger than you realize.”
“That’s how fake marriages work. Didn’t you know?” I sip my wine, feeling anxious.
“Then there’s Boston.” He turns to look at me. “It’s a big ask, uprooting you. I know what you said at the beach, but I want you to think about it. I’ve been giving you space so you don’t feel pressured.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” I ask softly with a relieved laugh. “I thought you were mad at me or something.”
He looks confused. “Mad at you? For what?”
“I don’t know. You’re so damn grumpy, it could be anything.”
“I’m notthatbad.”
“Yes, you are, but it’s okay. It’s endearing. Sometimes.”
He rubs a hand through his hair. “I’m just trying to do right by you, Fiona. It’s one thing to go on a weekend trip. It’s another thing to move to a new state, start a new life, all while pretending to be married to someone.”
“You are offering to pay my student loans, don’t forget.”
He waves that off. “As far as I’m concerned, you already earned payment.”
“Gareth. Look at me.” He glances over, eyes dark and staring into mine. The tension in the room’s so brittle it’s about to crack. I stand closer to him, breathing deep, barely keeping myself under control. “I know what I’m doing, okay? I want to go to Boston. I want to try this.”
I want to try more thanthis.
