Again, I don’t miss the dig. Just because Figgy doesn’t mind traipsing through sheep shit and climbing trees to watch thesunset like we used to do as teenagers, doesn’t mean she’s better than Stella—it just means they’re different people.
Figgy’s always been a little pushy, but these underhanded comments are new. Is this her last-ditch effort to see if I would ever choose her? Because if it is, it’s failing—miserably.
I don’t want to be unkind, despite how low she’s stooping. “I promise those will stay just for us.”
Her mask finally slips, betraying her underlying anxiety. “Really?” she presses. “Because with how you’ve been avoiding me, I have to wonder if we’re even still friends.”
I soften a little. “Of course we are, Fig.” We’ve known each other a long, long time, and I’m not trying to completely throw away the friendship we’ve built, even if she seems desperate to do so for a chance at a romantic relationship. “But that’s all we’re ever going to be, okay? I need you to understand that.”
“Thomas,” she pleads, clutching at my arm. “Come on. Everyone knows this marriage of yours isn’t real. She’s just some woman you married while drunk in Las Vegas, and now you’re trying to figure out a way to cover that up.” Her grip tightens, nails digging into my skin. “You don’t have to lie to me.”
My heart pounds so hard that I swear everyone in the room can hear it. No one else has called me out this bluntly so far, though I know plenty of people have been thinking it. It makes sense Figgy would have her doubts, but she’s not buying this at all.
The hope written across her face has me sick to my stomach. She truly thinks she still has a shot—that all she’d have to do is get Stella out of the picture and we could ride off together. I don’t know how else to get it through her head that it’s never going to happen.
“Even if I were lying to you,” I grit out, pulling my armfrom her grasp, “it wouldn’t change the fact that I’m married and I respect the vows I made to the woman you seem so intent on insulting. That’s mywife, Figgy, whether you like it or not.”
Her lips part in surprise, hand falling back to her side, and for one awful moment I think she might cry. But then she narrows her eyes and says, “I’m going to tell your parents this is a sham marriage. That you’re trying to fool everyone and failing miserably at it. What would they think of that?”
The last question is a taunt. Whatwouldthey think? My eyes dart to Stella and my mother laughing together. To Calais and Geneva giving each other the look that I know meansOh, we like her. Even Evil Edith is watching Stella curiously from the corner of her eye. My family has already opened their arms to her, even if they have their own misgivings about how the marriage came to be.
Besides, in a world like ours, reputation means more than the truth. Stella and I can’t back out now that we’ve declared to the world that we’re together. And I know my family will stand behind the lies for as long as they benefit the Maxwell-Brown name, whether they like my wife or not.
“Do whatever the fuck you want,” I snap, then, a little too loudly I say, “Would you mind moving your stuff out of the room next to mine?” The question draws eyes to us, but I don’t care. I’m burning from the inside out, furious thanks to her petty threats. “I’d prefer to have Stella closer to me.”
Before she can reply, Andrew calls out, “Wait, you and your wife aren’t in the same room?” When I look over, he squints at me. “Why not?”
I’m already heated, but my face somehow grows hotter at being questioned. “We have enough bedrooms in this bloody house that everyone could have two of their own,” I huff. “Is it so wrong to have our own space?”
He scoffs, and even my younger sisters snicker, but they all know if Mum or Dad had decided automatically that they disliked Stella, we’d be on opposite sides of the house.
“You’re newlyweds, Thomas,” he drawls, swirling the dregs of his espresso martini. “You’ll be sneaking into each other’s rooms to fuck anyway.”
“Andrew!” Mum scolds, turning to slap his arm before giving me an exasperated but apologetic glance. She then turns to Stella. “I’m so sorry for my eldest son’s behavior, but we’ll have your things moved into Thomas’s room. No need to sleep separately.” She snaps her fingers at the staff member lingering by the doors, and the woman nods before rushing off.
As Mum turns back to her bartending setup, Stella and I lock eyes across the room, the same thing written on her face that I’m sure is written across mine.
Oh shit.
Looks like I’ll be sleeping with my wife tonight.
Chapter 19
Stella
“So…I guess we’re roommates now.”
I stare at my bags in the corner of Thomas’s bedroom. I’ve been too afraid to look at him since dinner ended, not sure what I’d find on his face. Annoyance at having to share his space with me? Eagerness at the idea of being in bed together? Hopefully not disgust, but I can’t rule it out.
“I guess we are,” he says, and I finally let my eyes swing up to him.
I don’t find any of the things I was considering. Instead, I see a knowing smile, like we should have expected this to happen all along and he’s not remotely mad about it.
I think that might be the worst of them all. Because this…thisI don’t know how to handle.
“How do you think dinner went?” he asks, shutting the door behind us and moving toward the dresser.
We didn’t talk on the way up to his—our—bedroom, lest anyone in the family overhear, so I guess it’s time for the debrief. But other than being bombarded for hours with questionsabout my life, my businesses, and my marriage, dinner was a breeze.
