“That’s incredibly patriarchal,” Lane objects.
Willow shrugs. “I wouldn’t miss community dinner. That was just an easy cop-out to please hubby. Give me some grace, I haven’t had my coffee yet,” she adds with a glance my way and a small smile.
“Ooof… not even married a week and already he lets things slide,” Beck says, an arrogant smile on his face. “I’ll make you your coffee.”
I sit at the counter. Might as well own up that I messed up this morning and won’t be good for shit. “Make me another one, too, will you?”
Willow serves the oatmeal in little bowls, then picks up a sheet of paper from the counter. “What’s this?”
Beck looks over her shoulder. “Ah. That’s your husband’s house duties schedule. Guess his OCD is acting up again. Want me to tack it on the fridge, like the good old days?”
Lane frowns. “He still does that? When’s my turn? Who’s on vacuuming duty this week? Please tell me it isn’t me. I can’t stand the vacuuming.”
“And that’s why we need this,” I manage to interject.
“I don’t see my name,” Willow says.
Lane and Beck look at me. Like I’m going to put Willow’s name on our stupid chore table.
Willow turns around and dramatically tears the schedule apart, dropping it in the recycling pail and swiping her gaze across us. “You guys need to grow up.”
My heart swells. “That’s a tall order.”
Lane and Beck look from Willow to me with their mouths hanging open.
“Now everyone eat their oatmeal while it’s warm,” Willow says as she slides onto the stool right next to me.
“So… you guys ready to face the mob?” Lane asks after a decent enough time has gone by.
“What mob?” What did I miss now?
“Um…the whole town? At Lazy’s? Tonight?”
“I’m bracing myself for the Bitch Brigade for sure,” Willow answers.
twenty
Willow
This fake marriage does a lot of things to me. And making me nervous about going to the community dinner is at the top of the list right now.
I’ll be facing the whole town as Noah’s wife, Willow-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-tracks. I try to shake the imposter syndrome that’s deeper than just from this marriage being fake. I can’t help but still see Noah as someone I shouldn’t have.
I know Emerald Creek isn’t judgmental the way other small towns can be. We’re in a hardscrabble part of the country, relying on each other to make it through. Rich or poor doesn’t matter when you’re stuck in a snowstorm or a barn fire threatens your house. Everyone’s help counts.
And yet here I am. A nervous wreck.
Probably more so because I lied to my friends, and that was strategically stupid on my part. I should have made up a proposal and a decision to elope. They would have bought it. Ithink. Now it’s going to be a repeat of the other day at the bakery, times ten.
“We have to really put on a good show,” I remind Noah as I’m applying makeup, looking at myself in the bathroom mirror while he gets ready in the bedroom.
I washed my hair and let it hang loose so it finishes drying naturally. I chose my bell bottom jeans with the stitched flowers in all sorts of colors, and the short-sleeved ruffled shirt in a light yellow that looks awesome with my tan. I’ll throw a shawl on my shoulders just in case.
“Really make them believe we’re together-together,” I add, not wanting to pronounce the words “in love” but wanting to make sure Noah understands that his mission tonight is to put his hands on me, whether he likes it or not.
Noah’s changing the shirt he wore all day for a fresh one, and I catch a glimpse of his torso and abs as I glance at him while talking.Oops.Didn’t mean to, butdamn. He’sripped. Hides it well too. I avert my eyes and swallow with difficulty.
“I know,” he says, tension radiating from him.
