“That you don’t know what you’re doing or what the next move is,” he said evenly. “Which is new for you.”
I groaned. “This isn’t exactly a normal situation, Nathaniel. Everything about it is fuckingnew.”
He put his hands up, his head shaking slightly before he took another sip of scotch. “I know, but you’d better figure it out and fast.”
I ran a hand through my hair, glancing at the snow falling outside my kitchen window. Deep down—hell, not even that deep down—I knew he was right. Jane and I would have to figure this out, and the sooner the better, but fuck.
It wasn’t easy. She had her reasons for not wanting to move in together and I respected them, but at the same time, this situation we had going on right now wasn’t sustainable.
“Dad’s already talking about grandkids,” Nate added casually. “He’s chomping at the bit at the prospect of you having a son.”
I shot him a look but stopped short of actually admitting that I was nowhere near consummating my marriage, let alone thinking about children. But I wasn’t surprised my dad had gone there. No doubt her mom was wondering about it too.
We were married now, right? To people of a certain age, that meant kids were the next logical step, regardless of our situation or our own feelings about it. None of which, however, was Nate’s fault. “Jane and I haven’t even spoken about procreation yet. Drop it.”
“Sure,” he said. “I’d get ready for the questions if I was you, though.”
I nodded slowly and took a long sip of my scotch. The smooth liquid slid down my throat, relaxing me slightly. “This marriage is strategic. Dad has to cool his fucking jets and let us get the Thayer acquisition finalized. We can deal with everything else after that.”
Nate studied my face. “Just be careful not to treat her like part of the acquisition, Alex. No matter how you got into thisthing, she’s still your wife now. If you’re going to make a go of this, it’ll help if you’re on the same team.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I held his gaze, then sighed when he didn’t back down. “I wouldn’t treat her like property. You know me.”
“That’s why I’m worried you’re going to screw this up. Despite having met her because of the job, she’s not a part of it, Alex. Remember that.” He shook his arm out a little, then glanced at his watch and drained his drink. He set his empty glass back down on the counter, grabbed his coat, and straightened up. “I’ve got to get going. I’m meeting Will for dinner. All the paperwork for that deal he made is in the folder. I think he crossed all the t’s, but look it over and let me know if we’re missing anything.”
“Happy to help.” I nodded and walked him to the door. “I could use the distraction from my marriage.”
After he left, the condo felt even emptier. I stood by the window, my reflection staring back at me. It was no wonder Nate had been worried. Even people who didn’t know me would be able to see that I was completely off kilter.
Three days married. Three days without hearing her voice.It’s fine, though. Space is healthy. Especially in a situation like ours. I’ll see her tomorrow and we’ll talk. Probably.
My phone felt heavy in my pocket as I drummed my fingers against my thigh. I pulled it out, mostly so I could stop feeling the weight of it, but now that the seemingly inoffensive, innocent black rectangle was in my hand, I couldn’t stop staring at it.
This is fucking insane.I closed billion-dollar deals without blinking. I dismantled boards before breakfast and rerouted legacies on my way out of the office.
Yet calling my wife—my actual, legal wife—felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, wondering how badly it was going to hurt if I jumped.Grow some balls, Westwood. Fuck space.
Before I could change my mind, I scrolled to her number and hit call. She answered on the third ring.
“Jane Thayer,” she said crisply, ever the professional.
“Did we ever discuss you changing your last name?” I asked.
She hissed out a breath that wasn’t quite a sigh but sounded more like she was bracing herself. “No, and we’re not discussing it now.”
Background noise filtered through the line, shouts, a sharp whistle, and people yelling things that sounded vaguely threatening, but enthusiastic. I frowned. “What are you doing? It sounds like you’re in a cage match.”
She snorted. “You’re close, actually.”
“An MMA fight?” I teased. “If that’s your thing, I can get us seats in Vegas.”
“I’m at my brother’s wrestling meet,” she said dryly. “It’s not MMA and it’s not the kind of wrestling with cage matches.”
I blinked back my surprise. “Just plain old wrestling?”
“Yes.”
“Like, high school wrestling? You’re watching children fight?”
