A heavy awkwardness settles over everything by the time we find ourselves standing in the kitchen together. It’s not the same demure apprehension that lingered between us the last time we stood in this same spot just over an hour ago. This time, there’s a quiet, clumsywhat now?hanging in the air.
I set my bouquet down and begin picking at one of the roses while he leans back against the counter, crossing his arms and drumming his fingers idly over his elbow. He stops and looks down at the ring on his left hand before he hides it behind the opposite arm.
“So, um, I guess I’m good to turn in that paperwork now,” he offers after a while.
“Right,” I return with a forced smile.
He nods absently. “What should we have for dinner tonight?”
I sigh. “I’m not even sure what I’m going to have for lunch.”
He huffs out a laugh. “You’re right. It’s only eleven in the morning.” I fidget uncomfortably, and he opens his mouth to speak again.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. What’s ‘marital debt?’ ”
“Hmm?” I squeak.
“You mentioned it before, but I’m not familiar with the phrase.”
I feel the tips of my ears reddening. “Oh. Well, it’s um … are you sure you’ve never heard the term before?”
He shakes his head. “No. Is it a trad-Catholic thing?”
I shrug. “I guess you could say that.”
“I almost asked Rowan what it meant the other day, but I figured it’d be suspicious out of context.”
A small, strangled sound escapes my throat. “Please tell me you didn’t?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “So it’s …thatkind of debt?”
“I don’t think the euphemism was intended to exclusively refer to the type of debt you’d be calling in right now if we would have gotten married for any other reason, but yeah … pretty much.” My stomach dips at the mere thought of what a real wedding night with Landry might look like.
His eyes flare slightly, but we’re interrupted by his phone chiming before he can say more. “Sorry, it’s Lo,” he mumbles. “She wants to know when we were planning to tell her that we moved in together.”
“Should we have asked her before we made that arrangement since this is technically still her house?” I cringe.
He shrugs and frowns down at the phone. “It shouldn’t make a difference to her. She should be worrying about her babies and not about our living arrangements, anyway.” But his face reddens, and he clenches his jaw as he continues reading. Then he growls under his breath as he types in a quick reply.
“Is she upset?” I venture.
He huffs and puts the phone away. “She’s questioning my intentions for moving in with you.”
“Oh,” I say on a laugh. “No worries there.”
My comment doesn’t seem to register with him, though. He’s too angry now. “Yeah, well, she doesn’t have much room to talk in this situation.”
“I’m sure if I explained why I need you to drive me around, she’d understand.”
“I thought you didn’t want anyone else to know about your last couple of seizures?”
I shrug. “She should know that you’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart and not because you’re trying to hook up with me. And I’m sure I can trust her, right?”
But he shakes his head. “Don’t bother. There’s nothing you can say to make my sister think I’m anything but a jerk.” The way he says it so matter-of-factly makes my chest ache. “But, hey, at least you know she cares about you, right?” he adds sardonically.
I sigh. “Yeah. Look who’s becoming the optimist now.”
“I guess you’re rubbing off on me,” he replies, his tone still flat. “Anyway, back to lunch. How does this work now that we’re married?”
