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The rest of the day passes quickly with photos and the reception. We had a simple, small wedding and it was perfect. I couldn’t have planned a better wedding if I would’ve had twelve months instead of two weeks. Mrs. Windell is obviously some kind of miracle worker. Eventually, the festivities come to an end and our small crowd of friends and family see us off.

Once we’re alone in Madden’s Audi, I suddenly feel uncomfortable. It’s so quiet that every tiny movement I make seems amplified. The tension is thick, like when it’s extremely humid outside and the air makes it difficult to breathe. Thankfully, Madden’s place isn’t far and soon enough we pull into a parking spot right next to Dad’s old Buick. My parents dropped it off yesterday “in case I need it”. I feel embarrassed by how junky it looks parked next to all the new, shiny vehicles nearby. I move to open the car door, but Madden turns to me and gently touches my arm.

“Odette, wait.” He swallows and takes a deep breath. “I can’t let this day go by without telling you what an absolutely beautiful bride you are.” His eyes are so sincere that I can’t look away.

The only response I seem capable of is a whispered, “Thank you.”

Madden and his brothers moved my things over yesterday while my Mom and I got our nails done, so we have very little to carry in now. Madden steps out of the car and comes around to open the door for me, and then we silently walk up the path to the brick apartment complex. Coming inside, I follow Madden to the elevator and we ride up, floor after floor, in a strange silence. Neither of us knows what to say.

I breathe a sigh of relief when the elevator doors finally open at the very top floor. We step into a short, wide hallway with only one door at the end. Madden leads me to the apartment door and opens it for me. To my relief, he doesn’t offer to carry me over the threshold.

I walk into the most pristine home I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. There’s a brown leather sectional, a big flat-screen TV, a few pieces of modern art on the walls, and no clutter whatsoever. I turn into the dining area, and that’s when I spot an out-of-place picture on the wall above the table. I look over at Madden and he can barely contain his laughter, so of course, I laugh right along with him.

The picture is a watercolor painting of the English countryside with a mansion at the center. A small plaque at the bottom of the frame reads, “This is Our Pemberley.” Obviously, a nod to the start of our lives as Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett.

Except they were actually in love.“I saw it online, and I just had to get it.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets like a little boy.

I laugh and touch his arm. “It’s perfect. Thank you for the laugh.”

After an awkward pause, Madden removes his hands from his pockets and rubs them together. “Well, Mrs. Windell, let me lead you to your chamber.” He bows and then gestures down the hallway to the master bedroom.

All of my bags are already inside. The room looks very cozy with a king-sized bed, fluffy white comforter, lavender candles on the nightstands, and pretty brass lamps. There’s a spacious closet in the corner and an attached bathroom with a walk-in, marble shower, and a giant bathtub that I’ll definitely take advantage of later tonight. I smile and nod approvingly. “Wow, Madden. This place is awesome.” I clear my throat. “And where’s the guest room?”

He has his hands in his pockets again but pulls one out to run it through his hair. “It’s just down this hallway, along with the guest bathroom. So I won’t ever have to bother you.” He laughs nervously.

I bite my lip. Having Madden Windell as my roommate already feels weirder than I thought it would. “Right. Well, I’m just going to get settled in and probably jump in the shower.”

“Sure, okay. I hope you sleep well. I know it's been a long day.” He leaves quietly and closes the door behind him.

Chapter 14

Madden

Do not think about Odette in the shower, I repeat; do not think about Odette in the shower. You’re not a perv, Madden. You can handle this.

I smother myself with my pillow as I lay on my new bed in the guest room, repeating this mantra and trying not to smell the delicious aroma of her shampoo currently wafting through the entire apartment.

This is fine. Everything is fine. I can live platonically with my gorgeous wife–er, roommate–while keeping my hands to myself. No biggie.

I let out a loud groan and dramatically scrub my hands down my face. The idea of living with Odette didn’t seem like such a big deal, but now that she’s here in person and I can smell her and see her, and I know she’s sleeping just down the hallway… it’s much more tempting than I’d imagined.

I just have to get through the day tomorrow. After that, it’ll be Monday and we’ll announce my campaign at a press conference. Then we’ll get busy hitting the campaign trail hard. Throwing myself into campaigning is just the distraction I need to keep myself from thinking about Odette.

After making a campaign to-do list in my head, I eventually drift off to sleep.

At 6:00 AM the next morning (on the dot), I wake up as usual. I’ve always been a morning person, but I’m especially thankful for that today as I’ll have the chance to move around before I come face to face with my wife. I go straight to the guest bathroom to take a hot shower, then dress in a t-shirt and the comfy llama pants Odette’s mom got me for Christmas. I walk down the hallway to the kitchen to brew some coffee. Entering the living room, though, I come upon a sight that stops me dead in my tracks.

Odette is doing yoga. In tiny yoga shorts and a tank top.

Jesus, take the wheel. I can’t do this. I turn and silently bang my head against the wall.

“Good morning! Uh, Madden? You okay?” Odette has come out of her warrior pose and stares at me with concern.

“Yes, of course.” I squeak out. “This is just how I wake up in the mornings.”

“By banging your head against the wall?” She looks at me like someone should send me to an insane asylum. Frankly, someone probably should.

“Yep. I read about it in one of those self-help books. Gets the blood pumping.” I’m going to need to read a lot more self-help books. I slap a charming smile on my face, but I probably look like a doofus. “Would you like some coffee?”