Page 45 of A Win-Win Situation
After we’ve gathered "her stuff,"which consists ofonesuitcase, we make our way to the car.
This is it. Leora is my wife, and now my roommate.
I can't help but feel a sense of unease wash over me. This is the first time I've ever lived with a woman, let alone a significant other. And the idea of not knowing how it will play out is making me nervous. I sneak a sidelong glance at Leora, her gaze fixed on the passing cars outside the window. She seems distant, her posture tense and her fingers restlessly fidgeting in her lap. She's clearly uncomfortable with the whole "living together" arrangement. What had I expected? Of course she’s uncomfortable, but I’ll try my best to make her feel more at home.
I wish I didn't have that whiskey during the wedding because if I were sober, I could've been driving. Which would have allowed me to focus on the road rather than the woman sitting next to me, or on the kiss we'd shared.
As soon as the crowd started chanting, I knew I had to put on a show, but when my lips brushed hers, I couldn’t stop. It was as though my lips already knew hers. All I craved was more of that sweet taste. Unfortunately, the memory also leaves me with a semi every time I think of it.
Eventually, we arrive at my apartment building, and as I pick up Leora's suitcase from the trunk, I can’t help but notice that it’s light. A feeling of annoyance washes over me as I recall asking her to buy some clothes just two days prior. However, Ihad a feeling she wouldn’t listen. So, I took it upon myself to ask Camille to do some shopping and hang the new clothes in her room.
We step into the elevator that takes us to my penthouse, and I sneak another quick look at Leora. Her eyes dart around nervously, taking in her surroundings. There’s a slight tremble in her hands as she adjusts her grip on the strap of her purse. Her breathing seems to have quickened, and her eyes won’t meet mine, as if she’s afraid to look at me.
I let out a frustrated huff. I understand she’s nervous about moving in with me, but this level of fear seems unwarranted. It’s as if I’ve forced her into marrying me at gunpoint. If anything, considering her fiery nature and history of throwing things at my face,Ishould be the worried one.
As soon as the elevator doors open, she practically rushes out. I follow closely behind, noticing the relief in her eyes as she steps into the apartment. Taking the lead, I guide her into my space, trying to project a sense of calm, despite the tension that seems to be lingering between us.
Again, I can't help but notice her gaze darting around, taking in the details with a mix of wonder and trepidation. Gradually, her shoulders seem to lose some of their tension as she moves through the hallway and into the expansive living room that connects to the kitchen.
"It's so big." There’s an awe in her voice as she looks around at the floor-to-ceiling windows surrounding the sitting area.
"It is quite spacious," I respond, a faint smile tugging on the corners of my lips at her chosen words. A moment of stillness settles and I find myself captivated by how the natural light streaming in casts a soft glow on her face. She almost looks angelic.
"We'll have plenty of room for ourselves," I offer, aiming for lightness, but her answering smile seems strained, not quite reaching her eyes.
I clear my throat. "Let me show you to your room so you can change out of your dress."
I lead her to one of the guest bedrooms, choosing the door closest to the living room. My own room is strategically located on the far side of the penthouse, a considerable distance from hers. It’s the best case in this situation. That way I can keep her at arm’s length and have my own space. The truth is, we don’t need to hang out that much when we’re in private. Our roles are set. Out there, we act; in here, we exist.
Her room is cozy and well-appointed, with a comfortable, queen sized bed, soft linens—egyptian cotton, of course—and tasteful decor. A small sitting area by the window, that offers a nice view of the beach. I remember she told me she enjoys reading and that spot is perfect for it.
I turn to Leora and gesture toward the room.
"This will be your room," I try to sound as welcoming as possible, but when we step in, we both freeze.
"You really went all out, didn't you?" she says, this time with a genuine smile on her lips, but as beautiful as it is, my mind is preoccupied with what’s in front of me.
On the bed lay a bunch of rose petals forming the shape of a heart, and there’s candles scattered all around the room.
"Camille,"I hiss through my teeth. Leora’s giggle turns into full-blown laughter, and she almost topples over with amusement. Camille is my most trusted employee, the only one who knows the truth about this arrangement.
"I'm going to fire her," I grumble, though a small smirk tugs at the corner of my lips. Despite the awkwardness of this situation, her laughter is infectious, and for a moment, I forget about the complications and just enjoy the sound of it.
All I had asked Camille to do was to buy Leora some outfits and shoes. Simple.
Apparently not for Camille. Instead, what she managed to do was raise my blood pressure through the roof. Attempting to mask my annoyance, I nonchalantly shrug, trying to dismiss the situation.
"Camille wanted to surprise you," I say, trying to justify her actions.
Leora chuckles, her eyes dancing with amusement as she teases me. "Well, it looks like she surprised you even more."
I take a deep breath, reminding myself to keep my composure.
This day has been overwhelming.
I’ve married a stranger, been surprised with a wedding reception, then had to kiss said stranger. Even if my body seems to long for another taste of her lips, it still doesn’t change the fact that this whole situation is nowhere near ideal.
"There are some new clothes for you in the wardrobe," I say, changing the subject, fully expecting a retort about how she doesn't need my help or my money. But to my surprise, Leora remains silent instead.
