When we make it back to the house, all I want to do is crash. I didn’t sleep on either flight. Saylor was able to rest on both, leaning against me. Each time I asked the flight attendant for a blanket for my wife, the word cemented with me. I should have dropped her off at her place. Instead, I convinced her to come home with me so we could discuss how to get out of this mess—her words not mine. I could never consider being married to Saylor as a mess. It’s impulsive and out of character for both of us with that level of commitment, but not a mess. After we boarded our connecting flight and she fell back asleep, all I thought about was how to get her to try this ruse of a marriage and see if we can make it work. Not something that I would have ever thought I’d hear myself say.
Things changed when I met Saylor.
“Come on in,” I say, opening the front door and letting her pass. I could have walked on in, but I’m a starving man when it comes to her. I’ll take any chance I can to touch her. Placing my hand on the small of her back, I lead her into the living room.
“How do we do this, Rhett?” she says after getting settled on the couch.
I take the seat right next to her and rest my hand on her thigh. “I don’t know. I’ll call my family’s lawyer on Monday and see what he says. I don’t even know if he handles divorces.”
“I can’t believe we did this,” she says with a heavy sigh.
“What? You don’t like being married to me?” I ask her.
“We’re not really married,” she counters.
“I beg to differ. Those papers in that white envelope in your bag say otherwise.”
“You know what I mean. We’re not in love,” she says.
“Married?” a gruff voice says from the doorway.
“Shit,” I mumble under my breath. “He never comes downstairs unless we have company,” I tell Saylor.
“What am I?” she asks.
“My wife,” I say deadpan. The more I say it, the more I like the sound of it.
“You’re married?” Gramps asks, using his cane to enter the room.
I wait until he’s seated in his recliner to tell him the story. “Funny story,” I say before telling the tale, piece by piece. “I’m going to call the family attorney on Monday and see if he can start on the divorce process.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Gramps says sternly. “Where is your marriage license?”
“I have it,” Saylor jumps up and runs to her bag, digging around until she’s holding the white envelope. “Here.” She hands it to him.
“You both want this, right? You agree to end this marriage?” he asks.
“It’s not real, Grandpa Rhett,” Saylor says softly. “We were under the influence of alcohol. It’s not a union of love,” she explains.
“Saylor,” I say, not really sure how to say everything that’s running through my head. She turns to look at me, and all I want to do is kiss her until her smile reappears.
“We’ve talked about this,” she says.
“Yeah,” I mumble.
“All right then, I’ll take care of this. Be warned this isn’t something that will happen overnight. We can’t just call a judge and ask for this to be erased. There will be paperwork and a court hearing. It’s not an easy fix,” he tells us.
“Thank you so much,” Saylor says, bending to give him a hug.
“You’re still family here, sweet girl. No matter what, you’re always welcome.”
Tears glisten in her eyes. I stand and reach out for her. I can’t take her tears. “Come here.” I pull her into my arms, and she comes willingly. “Why don’t you just stay here tonight?”
“I really should go home,” she says.
“Are you sure?” I ask her.
“Yeah. Thank you.” She pulls away. “I’m ready to just go home and get some rest.”
I want to ask about all the sleep she got on the plane, but I keep quiet. “Come on then, I’ll take you home. Gramps, you sure you got this?”
“I’m sure. I’ve been laying in that bed too long. This will give me something to do since you took my job,” he quips.
“You know you’re not well enough to pull an all-day shift at the distillery.”
“I sure as hell can call a lawyer from my bed. Frank and I are old friends; we need to catch up anyway. Besides, maybe I can use the distillery as leverage to do what he can to clean this up?”
“What do you mean?” Saylor asks.
“It would be a shame if I had to find a new attorney, now wouldn’t it?” He winks at her.
“No, I don’t want that. Don’t let it affect your business. We can do this on our own.”
“Nonsense. Let me help you. It will do me some good to have something to do other than watch mindless television. Frank will be hearing from me daily until we get this issue resolved.”
“Thank you.” She kisses his cheek.
Suddenly, I’m jealous of my seventy-seven-year-old grandfather. “Let’s get you home,” I say. Standing, I grab her bag and wait until she’s slipping back into her coat. I lead her to my truck with my hand on the small of her back. I wish I could have convinced her to stay, but asking again would be more than pressing my luck.
“He’ll take care of it,” I say when we pull into her driveway. The drive here was quiet, both of us lost in our thoughts. “I’ll keep on him.”
“It’s fine, Rhett. It’s not like I have any pending offers that I’m rushing out to accept. I just don’t want to be the reason you’re held back,” she confesses.
My chest tightens at her confession. “You’re not holding me back, Saylor. I know it’s just a piece of paper, but you don’t have to worry about me being with anyone else. We have to file with the courts, so word is going to get out.”
“Shit, your parents,” she says, burying her face in her hands. “They’re going to hate me.”
“Hey.” I grab her hand and pull it away from her face. “You’re impossible to hate. I’ll call them later and explain what’s going on. Don’t worry. It will all work out like it’s supposed to.” I fight the urge to lean in and kiss her. The pull is there like a current in the ocean. Pulling away, I climb out of the truck and retrieve her bag.
She doesn’t bother to tell me she can get it this time; she’s learned her lesson. I follow her up the stairs, dreading saying goodbye.
“Thank you,” she says softly.
“You’re welcome. I’ll call you tomorrow? We should keep in touch; you know, until this is all cleared up.”
“We’re still friends, Rhett. This doesn’t have to be awkward.”
“I don’t want it to be, but I can’t stop thinking about being inside of you, and now you’re my wife. That fucks with my head, Saylor,” I say, leaning into her.
“We’re both adults. We can manage,” she says with mock confidence. I can see the desire in her eyes.
“Can I kiss my wife goodnight?” I ask her, my lips now hovering over hers.
“We shouldn’t,” she says, gripping my coat.
I eliminate the distance and press my mouth to hers. I nip at her bottom lip until she opens for me. Sliding my tongue past her lips, I get lost in the taste of her. My cock is hard as steel, remembering how she feels. Is it possible that this kiss is better than all the others? That it’s sweeter knowing she’s my wife? I know she’s not really mine, but the thought of it somehow changes things. Sweeter, softer, more electrifying. I never would have thought it could have been possible, not with us. Every time my lips touch hers, it’s explosive. Slowly, I pull away from her. “Goodnight, Say,” I whisper. Before I release my hold on her, I drop a chaste kiss to her forehead. I motion for her to go inside, handing her her bag.
“Night, Whiskey,” she whispers before closing the door.
I stand there on her step, fists clenched. I want to beat the fucking door down until she lets me in, inside her house and inside of her. I need to get my head on straight where she’s concerned. She’s made her position clear. I just need to figure out why it bothers me so much.