Natalie fell asleep with hope that this situation would work out for the best. Vincent seemed more than ready to give it a try once he realized he’d spoken with Natalie the whole time and not her sister, but as the next few days wore on, she believed he regretted his decision to keep her around almost immediately.
Sunday passed with her wandering around the house and picking through the library she’d found the day before. There were several interesting titles she was curious to page through and occupied her time reading from the comfort of the couch. Vincent checked on her once or twice throughout the day, each time opening his mouth as if to ask her questions, but he would smile quickly and walk away. Dinner was dreadful, both eating only to get away from the table and hide from each other again. The house was large enough that it was easy to make herself disappear. She considered talking to him Monday when he came home from the office, but the scowl on his face let her know he was in a pissy mood. Gruffly, he told her he would be on the phone all evening in his study and apologized for not being able to spend time with her.
Tuesday, while he was at the office again, Natalie busied herself with tracking down some cookbooks in the library and whipping together a good old-fashioned steak and potatoes dinner with a flair. She was pouring the red wine when he walked in.
“You don’t have to cook for me,” were the first words out of his mouth, and Natalie’s chest tightened, fighting back her hurt.
“I know, but I thought you might enjoy a meal when you came home. I don’t mind. Besides,” she added, handing him a glass of wine, “what would everyone think if they knew your wife didn’t cook for her husband every now and then?”
His eyes narrowed and he sat down hard at the kitchen table. “We’re still working on the husband and wife thing, remember?”
Natalie pushed her tongue against her upper lip, annoyed, and cut into her steak. “You’re right, sorry. I won’t mention it again.”
“Natalie.”
“Huh?”
“Your piercings. You put them all back in.”
She tugged at her right ear. “I have to wear them every now and then or the holes will close.”
“What if someone came to the door today?” he asked, not looking at her. “Did you wear that all day, too?” He motioned to her typical sweatshirt and denim shorts.
Natalie breathed in and out, counting to ten in her mind. “Yes, I did. I only brought so many clothes. The rest of my stuff won’t be delivered until next week. Do you have an issue with how I look?”
“I told you, public appearance is very important,” he reminded her stiffly. “You can’t have the piercings at the reception.”
“Whatever you say, dear,” she snapped and pushed back from the table.
“Where are you going? You didn’t even touch your food.”
“I’m not hungry, thanks.” She poured more wine into her glass, picked up the book she’d read all day from the counter, and trudged upstairs to her bedroom. Her eyes skimmed over the words, but none of them registered in her mind. What happened to the Vincent she’d warmed up to on Saturday? The man willing to give her a chance—give them a chance? She stayed in her room for the remainder of the night, not daring to venture out until she heard his door slam around midnight.
Saturday finally arrivedand Natalie dreaded it. She slipped into the one nice outfit she’d packed, her snug black slacks, short black heels, white blouse, belt, and red tank to wear underneath. She did her hair, curling it and pulling the curls up with pins. Her makeup was simple, and she only wore a single pair of silver studs with a matching necklace resting above her cleavage. She stared at her reflection for several long minutes, hating how Vincent’s attitude and words the past few days had started to wear her down so she second-guessed whether she looked good enough for him. Years ago, she hadn’t given a shit what anyone thought, and then the accident happened. After that, she locked herself away in her apartment, angry at the world for turning against her for something that wasn’t even her fault.
“Ready?” Vincent asked, knocking on her door.
“Yeah, just a second.” She smoothed her hands down her slacks and opened her door. “Is this appropriate?”
“You don’t have a skirt or dress?”
Setting her jaw, she pushed past him for the stairs. “No, and if I have to change we’ll be late.”
He muttered something behind her, but she tuned him out, picked up her purse, and walked out the front door. A car was waiting for them this evening, and she didn’t wait for him before she walked to the back door and the driver opened the door for her. She sucked in a deep breath before she climbed inside and closed her eyes, hoping she wouldn’t get sick on the way to the hotel. Her annoyance at Vincent helped her focus on something other than the vehicle she was in. The drive to the hall was horribly awkward, but no worse than the night before. That had been atrocious. He’d come to her in the library and said they had to go over a simple plan to explain to people how they met and why they kept their relationship and wedding a secret. She wanted to tell him why not tell the truth and simply print out her twin sister’s profile since that was who he really wanted by his side, but she bit back the words and did her best to help him.
They agreed to say they met at a Rangers game two years ago and had dated ever since, always keeping it private so news of her dating life wouldn’t affect her career.
“What is your job anyway, if you’re not a paralegal?” he’d asked.
“Junior college professor,” she’d told him. “It’s why I currently have nothing to do. I don’t teach classes over the summer.”
“I thought you didn’t like to be around people?”
“I don’t. I teach the online courses.”
If he was really curious about what she taught, he didn’t bother asking and she wasn’t offering anymore answers to make it easier for him. If this was the real Vincent Cunningham, she was glad her sister had not been the one to go through with the wedding. Lana was too nice for her own good, and this man would have walked all over her.
“You know everything you’re supposed to say?” he asked as the car parked outside the hotel, and she released her grip on the edge of the seat. They’d made it in one piece.
“Do you?” she challenged.
The annoyance on his face was no match for what she felt. The driver opened the door before he could respond, and she slid out of the back seat, making him keep up with her so they could walk into the hall together.
You said you weren’t going to fuck with his career, she reminded herself sternly. Stop being a bitch and suck it up, princess.
She waited for him outside the door and held out her hand. “Ready, dear?” she asked, trying to sound like a happily married wife and not pissed off.
Vincent took her hand firmly in his and planted a kiss on the back of it as the doors opened from the inside. “Always.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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