“Something with a garden. She wants to grow tomatoes.”
Reed nodded. “Michael wants a garage so he can work on projects.”
“What kind of projects?” she asked, her curiosity peaking.
“Building things. Bookshelves. Maybe refinishing furniture.” He shrugged. “Michael is practical like that.”
She watched him as he drove, his shaggy hair falling over one eye. She wanted to brush it back. He looked so calm and at ease. So comfortable playing the part of loving husband. Like it was a role he’d waited his entire life to play.
“You’re good at pretending,” she said.
He glanced at her, giving her that easy grin. “I’m not pretending.”
They stopped for gas in a small town near the southern border of Montana. It looked like an even more rustic version of Fate Mountain Village. Old west style buildings lined the main street. Motorcycles sat outside the tourist attractions.
Reed pumped the gas. Siren went inside to use the bathroom and buy snacks. The air was cool and thin and she buttoned up the white cardigan against the chill.
She walked into the convenience store and headed to the rest room. When she was done, she moved through the aisles, grabbing packages of anything that looked good. Chips, candy, beef jerky, trail mix. It should tide them over until they stopped in for the night. She planned to park near Mammoth Hot Springs before heading east in the morning. She made her way to the register and dropped her snacks on the counter.
The clerk was a woman in her fifties with reading glasses on a chain around her neck.
“You find everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. This is it.”
Reed walked in and his hand found the small of her back as he stepped up beside her. She almost flinched.
“Let me get this, honey. I’m on pump three,” he told the clerk, opening his wallet. He slid his Michael Phillips credit card across the counter as the woman rang up the stacks and gas. She put everything in a bag and handed it to Reed.
He opened the door for Siren as they walked out of the store and then opened her door when they got back to the van, handing her the snacks when she was inside. He closed her door and then climbed into the driver’s seat.
“You flinched when I touched you,” he said, turning on the car. “Sarah wouldn’t flinch.”
Siren sighed.
“Yeah. You’re probably right. I’ll work on that.”
He pulled out of the gas station and made his way back to the highway. Siren checked the windows for a tail but didn’t see any signs of being followed.
“Where did we get married?” he asked, reaching into the bag in her lap for a candy bar.
She opened a bag of trail mix. “Courthouse in Vegas. Small ceremony. My parents weren’t thrilled.”
“They wanted a big wedding. But we were young and impatient.”
She considered this. “Do we regret it? The small wedding?” She was losing herself in the fantasy. But there was nothing else to do. No hostiles to defend against. No interrogations. No research. Might as well pass the time.
“No,” he said, changing lanes. “We talk about renewing our vows sometimes. Doing it right, with all our friends and family. But we never get around to it?”
“Why not?”
“Because the truth is, the first one was perfect. It was just us. And that’s all we ever needed.”
She watched the road unfurl ahead of them. Like the life they were building together inside their minds. The life of two people who didn’t exist.
Several hours later, they stopped at a grocery store near the campground she’d planned, and they stocked up on food supplies. After they’d put everything away, Siren directed Reed to the campground as the afternoon light was fading toward evening.
Reed pulled up to the small office near the entrance and went to check in. He returned a few minutes later with a bundle of firewood tucked under his arm.
