“You know—the big thing we don’t want to talk about. Sex.” She whispers the last part like someone might hear her.
I have no idea what elephants have to do with sex but maybe I’m drunker than I thought. “Sex?” I finally ask.
She giggles again and then claps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. It’s just…this is our wedding night. We should be all over each other. Instead…we’re just sitting here like we’re scared.”
Her meaning is beginning to sink in.
The elephant in the room is the awkwardness between us. Because we are legally married and we should be having sex.
“I think we will be okay,” I say.
What else can I say?
“Aren’t you scared?” she whispers, suddenly turning big blue eyes to me.
I don’t have to think about that. It takes a lot more than an in-name-only marriage to scare me. I grew up in a rough neighborhood of Moscow. That was fear. This is…something much less terrifying.
“I am not afraid,” I say quietly. “A little bit of worry but not fear. There is nothing to fear.” I pause. “Well, maybe some fear of my mother. She is…difficult.”
“Like my father.”
“Yes. Except with guilt.”
“Yeah.”
We’re both leaning so that our heads are resting on the back of the couch, and she turns to look at me. “What do we do next? I don’t mean tonight, but when we go home?”
“We go to see house.” I contacted a realtor before we left and said I needed a house fast. Quick sale. Cash. I gave her some parameters and just this morning she emailed me three possibilities. One is too far away, but the other two are in Peachtree Heights, which is where I live now.
“In the meantime, we have to live together. Share a room. A bed.” There’s enough concern in her voice to sober me up quickly.
I meet her gaze directly. “You do not have to worry about me. I will never touch you without…” Shit, what’s the word for consent in English? “Approval?” I finish with a scowl.
She nods. “Consent. Yes. I sense that about you. But here’s the thing.” She sits up and faces me. “I’m pretty sure my father is going to do everything in his power to either discredit you, break us up, or make us so miserable it becomes more trouble than it’s worth to stay married.”
“Your father does not scare me.”
“He’s a state senator. He has powerful friends. If he gets wind that this isn’t a real marriage…”
“How? He will be in our bedroom in the night?”
“No but…” She chews her lip. “If you’re out with other women, and he hires someone to follow you—this whole thing is going to blow up in our faces.”
I study her thoughtfully.
She has a point.
I honestly didn’t even consider sex until today, and I think somewhere in the back of my mind I assumed I would discreetly take care of my needs with the occasional one-night stand. That way, I wouldn’t be overly frustrated and she would never be embarrassed. I’d probably have to suck it up during the off season, but one-nighters are easy once hockey season starts. Especially on road trips.
Her father having me followed adds a complication I hadn’t considered.
“You are saying I must remain faithful.”
She looks embarrassed. “I think…if this is going to work, we can’t give my father anything he can use against us. Especially you.”
“I am not afraid. I have done nothing bad. There is nothing to find. Let him look.”
She stares at me and then nods. “Okay.”
