I frown.
“So you’re saying there are other secret societies out there?”
“Yes. It’s a dog-shit-eat-shit world. The board only cares about the elite and money.”
Lyrical mentioned to me that the women aren’t supposed to know what goes on at the club.
I polish off my bagel.
“How do women fit into this?”
“Women are only there to serve us as our wives and bear our children.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Does every member have to have a baby?”
“Yes. It’s how we keep the club and bloodline going.”
“So, the girl you marry for real is only meant to serve you?”
He nods. “They just now allowed women to get degrees. My mother wasn’t able to go to college.”
I rub the back of his hand.
“What was your mother like?”
He gives me a bewildered look.
“What?”
“No one’s really asked me about her.” He smooths out his tie. “She was sweet. And kind. Loved animals. Especially huskies. My father hated all the animals she brought home, and he got rid of them after her death.”
I want to tell him I know how it feels to lose a close family member, but I’ve lied for so long that I forget my parents are dead until the nightmares come back.
He gets up from the table and throws away our trash. “It’s time to go to class,” he states. He picks up my book bag and straps it across his shoulder, then straps his own against the other shoulder.
Irvin walks me to class, holding hands. It feels nice yet wrong. I almost forget to act like we’re in a relationship—since I only had one relationship throughout my life.
Once we’re standing in front of the double oak doors of Freud Hall, I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his lips. “Thanks for breakfast.”
He nods. “I’ll be waiting for you to walk you to your next class.”
I smile widely at him. Once I arrive at my psychology class, I sit at the front, ease out my MacBook, and set it on the eggshell desk.
I realize it’s my nerves and paranoia. I’m afraid to get close to anyone, which is why I feel like my deal with Irvin is too good to be true.
He’s just playing the dutiful husband, and it’s okay to trust him.
Lilac
When I arrive at my apartment, I stride to the bedroom and bang my big toe on one of Irvin’s boxes. It aches. Quickly, I grab onto the chair and ease myself onto the soft queen-size bed.
I lie on the pillow, staring at the ceiling, and then realize I have to catch up on some homework.
I had a long day, and I’m tired as hell. Classes took forever, moving at a snail’s pace. There’s still some stuff in boxes, and I’m going to help Irvin unpack his things. I’m so glad that dinner with Irvin’s father is over. It went better than I thought, and Preston didn’t mention anything about my parents. I suspect Irvin told him not to bring them up. So it wasn’t a complete disaster.
I fixate on my wedding band, untwist it from my finger, and set it on my nightstand. It still feels weird to have a fake husband, and it feels even weirder to be in a fake relationship. In Irvin’s mind, we’re together for real. He’s taking this fake-husband thing way too seriously. He kept his promise, walking me to all of my classes and bringing me lunch and dinner.
It’s weird to have a man cater to my every need.
