: Chapter 7

“Good morning,” Sloane says as she joins me in the kitchen, wearing a long dress that reaches her ankles. It’s dark blue with a gold overlay of cutout flowers. The off-the-shoulder sleeves show off her shoulders and nothing else. I picked the dress out and assumed it wouldn’t make me think about bending her over my desk, but as she floats innocently through the kitchen, I’m quickly realizing it’s not what she wears. It’s just her. “So from the lack of coffee machine, I’m going to assume you don’t make coffee here.”

“Nope,” I answer.

“Okay, um, so is it a no on a coffeemaker? Because, you know, some people might like one.”

“Tell me which one you want, and I’ll get it,” I answer as I finish my protein shake and rinse my cup out in the sink.

“Well, in that case, one of those espresso machines only baristas know how to work.”

I eye her and she laughs, the sound so fucking heavenly. She reaches for a banana and starts to peel it, which is my sign to leave because I don’t need to watch her eat that thing.

“I’m meeting Hardy for breakfast. I won’t be in the office until later, so no need to get me my green drink.”

“Sounds good,” she says, and I glance over my shoulder, where I catch her taking a bite of her banana, but she’s not eating it the way I thought she would. Instead, she’s treating it like a piece of watermelon and eating it horizontally.

“What the hell are you doing?” I ask.

She pauses, ready to take another bite. “Eating a banana.”

“I see that, but why the hell are you eating it like that?”

She looks down at the banana boat in her hand and then back at me. “Because I knew if I ate it the other way, you’d moan and groan and envision the banana as your penis and me as the sucker of said penis.”

I nearly choke on my own saliva. “Excuse me?”

“Please, all men do it. Don’t act like you’re innocent. I was saving you just now.” She takes another bite of her banana, and it splits in two. The proper answer would be, thank you. I stand there, stunned, so she continues. “You’re welcome. Anyway, since you’re not in the office this morning, think I could go to my place and pack up some things to bring over here? Maybe show my sister that I survived the night despite you constantly kicking me?”

My eyes narrow. “I didn’t kick you, did I?”

She smiles and pops one of the banana halves in her mouth. “No, but it’s nice that you’re concerned. For a second there, I thought you were a robot.” My face falls flat, which makes her laugh. “So is that a yes on gathering my items?”

“Yes,” I answer and then head toward the garage. “I’m taking my car. Bart is out front, so he’ll drive you wherever you need to go. After work, we’ll go to dinner together.”

“Oh, is that right?” she asks. “You’re just going to tell me what we’re going to do?”

“Yes.” I pick up my car key, stick my wallet in my pocket. “See you at the office.”

“Hey,” she calls out and walks up to me. She pauses, then slips her hand behind my neck, pulls me down to her, and then, to my surprise, she kisses me on the nose. When she releases me, she says, “Nose kiss,” as if it’s a funny inside joke. “Have a great day, Husband. See you in the office.” Then she twiddles her fingers at me and goes back to the kitchen.

Christ. Out of all the women…she’s the one I married.

Great, Hudson.

Really great.

Think of the property purchase. This is only temporary. You can stick this out for a month.

“I swear to Christ, I keep unsubscribing, but no matter what I do, those fucking flamingo emails keep coming in,” Hardy says as he stabs his eggs with his fork.

“It’s because you keep donating,” I say to him as I lean back in my chair, my food barely touched.

“It’s hard not to when JP makes such a compelling argument about the damn birds.” Hardy leans forward and whispers, “I donated to the pigeons too.”

“Dude.”

“I know,” he groans. “Fuck, but the email had a picture of a once-domesticated pigeon, now looking into the window of a warm house, snow falling around him. It was devastating.”

“It’s a fucking pigeon.”

“Trust me, I hate myself.” He shakes his head and takes a mouthful of his eggs. “It’s just so fucking cruel. Society takes these birds in, domesticates them, and then we’re like, nope, see ya, you fucking sky rats.”

“You need help.”

“That’s what Everly told me this morning when I was bitching to her about the damn emails. Maybe I just need to change my email. You know how people are too scared to quit the gym, so they change their credit card altogether? Maybe I’ll do that, change my email to stop getting those fucking sad bird emails.”

“He’ll find you,” I say. “JP will fucking find you.”

Hardy slowly nods and wipes his mouth with his napkin. “I know. I’m just fucked. Before you know it, you’re going to see me on the pier with JP, talking to the damn pigeons.”

“That’s one way to get Everly to break up with you.”

“You think she would? You don’t think she’d see it as the sensitive side of me?”

“Not a chance,” I answer and take a sip of my orange juice, something I know Sloane will tell me has a ton of sugar in it and will make my wrinkles deeper—which, is that even a thing? I make a mental note to look it up.

“So why aren’t you eating?” Hardy asks.

“I ate.”

He takes his fork and pushes at my half-eaten omelet. “I’m calling bullshit.”

“Just not hungry.”

“Also, calling bullshit. What’s going on with you?”

I guess there really isn’t a good time to tell your brother that you got married. That’s why I brought him here after all.

“Uh, I have something to tell you,” I say as I push my silverware to the side. His eyes follow my movements, specifically my hands, and I know the minute he sees my ring.

His mouth falls open and he slowly lifts his head. Pointing at the ring, he asks, “What the fuck is that?”

I clear my throat and shift on my seat. “Um, so I have something I have to⁠—”

He yanks my hand across the table and looks at the ring closely. He taps it a few times. “That’s fucking real. Dude, you know that’s real, right?”

“Yes, I know it’s real.”

“Is that like…one of those decorative rings? You know, that people wear for style?”

“Do you think I’m someone who would wear a ring for style?”

He swallows and shakes his head. “No…no, you’re not. But you’re also not someone to wear a ring for…other reasons.” He continues to stare at the ring and then he reaches for his phone. “I need to call Haisley.”

“No,” I yell, slapping his phone out of his hand, sending it to the ground and skittering toward the table next to us.

“What the fuck?” Hardy asks while an older gentleman picks up Hardy’s phone and hands it to him. We offer our apologies and then Hardy leans forward and whispers, “Why can’t I tell Haisley?”

“She can’t know.”

“Why not? You clearly got married. I think that’s something our sister should know.”

“She can’t, Hardy.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” I say and steady my breath. “Because I married her husband’s sister.”

The look of shock on Hardy’s face would be comical if I wasn’t so fucking terrified out of my skin from announcing those words.

“No, you fucking didn’t,” he says.

I slowly nod. “I did.”

He leans back in his seat, his hands resting in his lap, looking…defeated. “Well.” He nods, staring off into space. “It was nice knowing you, Hudson. You’ve been a good big brother. For a moment, I thought it might be a heart attack that kills you because, well, you know, Dad and all. But no, it’s going to be our brother-in-law.”

I want to say he’s overreacting, but I know he’s not.

He’s right.

Then he leans forward again and whispers, “She’s like twenty years younger than you, you fucking pervert.”

“She’s thirteen years younger.”

“Oh yeah, much better,” he scoffs.

“Twenty years would make her fucking illegal, nimrod.”

He starts to slowly clap. “Glad you did the math to make sure she was legal.”

“Hey, she’s the same fucking age as Everly.”

“Yeah, but I’m younger than you, so should I do another round of clapping?”

“Can you not?” I shoot back. “I’m, I’m fucking struggling here.”

“I can’t believe you married Sloane. And here I was, bitching about flamingos and pigeons, and you’re just sitting there with that goddamn ring on your finger. Jesus Christ, that should have been the first thing you said to me when we sat down.”

“I was working up the courage.”

“Because you know what you did was wrong.”

“Of course I know that,” I answer.

“Then why the hell would you marry her? Are you two in love? Jesus, have you been fucking this whole time? You were giving me grief about Everly, and there you are, in a secret relationship with your assistant, our brother-in-law’s sister. The fucking hypocrisy.”

“We were not in a secret relationship.”

“Okay, sure, yeah, so you just got married?”

“Yes,” I answer.

“Stop fucking with me. There’s no way you would get married unless you were in a—” He pauses and tilts his head to the side, his mind working. Slowly, it hits him. “No.” I glance down at my lap. “Hudson. Please, for the love of fuck, don’t tell me.”

He knows.

“Don’t tell you what?” I say, still looking at my lap because I feel so fucking ashamed.

Speaking quietly, he says, “Did you marry her to get into that fucking club?”

I blow out a heavy breath and say, “It was her idea.”

“Holy…fuck.” He leans back in his chair, hand to his forehead. “You’re…you’re dead. You are so fucking dead. You realize how bad this is, right? Like how incredibly bad this is.”

“Yes, I know.”

“And you still went through with it. I mean, did you? Well, clearly you did,” Hardy says, his voice growing hysterical. “You’re wearing the goddamn ring—unless you’re just trying it on for size to see how you like it. Please tell me that’s the case. Are you just playing pretend right now?”

I look up at my brother and level with him. “Sloane is my wife.”

“Noooo,” he groans out, dragging his hands over his face. “You fucking idiot. Out of all the stupid things we have done collectively, you and me, this has got to be the cream of the crop, the most idiotic decision either one of us has ever made.”

“I know.” I hang my head. “For what it’s worth, I said no to her several times.”

“Oh wow. Should I tell the town crier? Throw you a fucking parade?” In a whisper-yell, he says, “Hear ye, hear ye, Hudson said no to her several times; let’s all praise his fortitude.”

“I don’t need your sarcasm right now.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need your stupid-ass decisions right now. Christ, man. Why her? You know how protective Jude is. And he’s…he’s our brother-in-law, our business partner.”

“I know who he is, okay? It’s not like this is forever. It’s just until, well, until the property purchase is over.”

“Uh-huh.” He nods, his tongue poking at the side of his cheek. “And when Archie later invites you and the wife over for dinner, what are you going to do?”

“Pay her to come to dinner.”

“Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head and then stops. “Hold on. Did you pay her to be your wife?” I wince, and he shoots straight up from the table. “I…I can’t handle this.”

“Sit the fuck down,” I say through clenched teeth.

He sits and then practically lies across the table to get as close to me as possible. “You fucking paid her?”

“It was her idea. She needed the money to put a down payment on their house that they love, and she told me she would be the bridesmaid Sheridan needs and she would marry me. This was after I fired her of course.”

“You fired her?” Hardy’s eyes nearly pop out of his head before he sinks low in his chair. “This is too much. Way too fucking much. What the hell happened to you? You used to be smart.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” I twist my water glass on the table. “She slept at my place last night.”

“Of course she did, because might as well keep digging your grave deeper and deeper.”

“We didn’t do anything, but Frederick thought it would be best if we treated this whole thing like a real marriage, so he wrote it in the contract that she was supposed to live with me and treat me as a real husband.”

“That’s just great. Wonderful actually. So excited to see that you’re treating Jude’s baby sister like a mail-order bride because your lawyer told you to. This isn’t going to backfire at all.”

“It’ll be fine. And I’m making sure to treat her like my wife, with care and sensitivity. She’s going to live like a queen—anything she needs or wants, it’s hers.”

He studies me for a moment. “Are you looking for an award? Because you’re not going to get one from me. When Jude finds out, he’s not going to care about that shit.”

“He’s not going to find out,” I say, trying to convince myself as well. “As long as you don’t say anything to Haisley or Everly.”

“You think I’m going to keep this to myself? You’ve lost your fucking mind. No way I’m keeping this from Everly.”

“Hardy,” I say in a stern voice. “Jude and Haisley can’t find out. Which means you can’t tell Everly because she’ll tell Maggie, who will tell Brody, and that motherfucker can’t keep anything to himself. He’ll end up posting on his social media about it because he’s such an idiot.”

“I agree, Brody is an idiot, but dude, you’re leading in that category right now. The gold medalist with no one coming even close to challenging you.”

“I’m being serious. You can’t tell anyone. If this is going to work, we need to keep it sealed.”

“Then why the hell tell me?”

“Because I’m going to need to consult with you when I’m in London. You’re going to need to know that I’ve taken a wife.”

“Taken a wife? What are you living in, the 1800s?”

Exasperated, I say, “Please just tell me you’re not going to say anything to anyone.”

“I’m telling Everly, but I’ll swear her to secrecy. She’s good at keeping secrets. She didn’t tell me about the crush she had on me for a long time. So I know she can hold out.”

I roll my eyes and then point at him. “If this gets out, it’s on you.”

He shakes his head. “No, man, this is all on you.”