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It’s not what you think, I want to tell them all. He’s not actually infatuated with me. And I’m not actually naive enough to marry a man I’ve only known a few weeks.
But I can’t say any of that. So instead, I flash a fake, brilliant smile, and head to my cubicle.
If I just focus on the work, I tell myself, my coworkers will too.
Soon everything will be back to normal.
Nothing’s back to normal.I can’t get any work done because everyone wants to know all the details. What Cole’s like outside of work. How we met. How he proposed.
I can’t even wash my hands in the bathroom without someone making a winking comment about how bossy Cole must be in bed.
I’m still blushing from that conversation as I head to the office kitchen. There’s a glitzy cafe down on the main floor where people can eat lunch if they want. But the kitchen stocks the coffee and snacks we need to get us through the day.
I make a mental note to tell Cole all the lies I made up today. A list that now includes,Actually, he’s very happy to take direction in bed.
Although for all I know that one’s true.
Nope, not thinking of that, I tell myself. Just like I haven’t been thinking of the way he all but growledIf there’s anything at all you wanton Saturday night when we were alone in his kitchen.
Did he know how sexual that sounded?
Maybe it’s just his voice.
One of my friend’s always complains that she has “resting bitch face.” Everyone thinks she’s mad, but that’s just what her face looks like.
Cole has resting sex voice, I decide. Everything he says sounds sexual, even when it’s not.
And now I’m living with him. God help me.
I pour myself a cup of coffee. Maybe I should take my best friend Maddy up on her offer for a free vibrator. Just to take the edge off while I’m living with a man who looks like a movie star and growls like he wants you desperately, when all he actually wants is for you to move out of the way so he can pour himself some cereal.
“There you are,” Howard says from behind me.
Cole’s dad doesnotsound happy.
But when I turn around his smile is firmly in place.
“Howard,” I say, kind of wishing our last conversation hadn’t been me essentially telling him to go screw himself.
But what was I supposed to do? Let him keep belittling his own son?
I try to smile, but the best I can manage is a vaguely pleasant eyebrow raise. “Did you want to talk to the graphic design team about something?”
“No,” Howard says. “I wanted to apologize.”
I almost drop my coffee in shock.
“I behaved poorly this weekend. When I should have been welcoming you to the family.”
“Ok,” I say cautiously. I want to believe him, if only for Cole’s sake. I want to believe that despite their obviously complicated relationship, Cole has a dad who wants his only son to be happy.
“Ah, you don’t trust me,” Howard says, like we’re trading banter over a harmless card game. “Words are easy. You need proof. A gesture.”
“That’s really not necessary—”
“That’s why I called your parents,” Howard says.
This time I do drop my coffee. The mug cracks, spilling coffee across the tiled floor.
