Page 17 of The Marriage Mistake

Jack’s chair rattled on the tiles as he pushed it back and stalked across the kitchen to the corner cabinet.

I turned back to Darby. “Your father and I have a contract,” I said. “And no matter what Nurse Doris or anyone else says, you absolutely don’t have to call me your stepmom or anything.”

I very nearly shuddered. There wasn’t a motherly bone in my body. I was not signing up to be this girl’s replacement mom, no matter how many times I’d wished for one when I was her age.

Darby’s gaze shuttered, and she dropped it to her food. She didn’t say anything, and I cringed, glancing up when Jack set a wine glass beside me. The red liquid glugged out of the bottle and splashed up the sides as he filled it up way past the point where proper wine drinkers usually stopped.

“Thanks,” I said, staring at the vat of red wine he’d just poured me.

He nodded, pouring himself a similar glass. We ate in relative silence, and then Darby got up, put her plate in the dishwasher, and left the kitchen.

“Darby,” Jack called, waiting for her to pause halfway down the hallway. “Have you practiced today?”

She let out an almighty groan, then stomped to the living room, leaving Jack and me alone. A moment later, the sounds of a piano began to echo in the house. Darby started with major and minor scales, playing them so loudly it felt like a message. After a few minutes, a classical piece began to filter down the hallway, coming to us in stops and starts with stumbles every few moments, punctuated by teenage sighs.

I took a sip of wine, shocked to realize I was almost at the bottom of my glass. It was dry but not puckeringly so. Surprisingly easy to drink, even though I knew I shouldn’t have been drinking anything at all. I’d be back on the road tomorrow, probably, and it would be three more days of driving. Not fun to do with a hangover.

Jack refilled my glass and, in a low voice that wouldn’t be heard by Darby over the sound of the piano, he said, “I’m not sure this arrangement is a good idea.”

Despite the fact that I agreed, my heart sank. Rejection was familiar, but it still hurt. I nodded. “I understand.”

“Darby seems like a tough kid, but she’s sensitive.”

I glanced at the door where his daughter had disappeared, a pinch forming in the center of my chest. I knew what it felt like to hide behind a hard exterior. Most people thought I was cold. Frigid. Emotionless. But the truth was, I’d learned to hide. My gaze slid back to Jack, and I wondered if his daughter was having the same experience I’d had with my dad. If her household was as emotionally repressed and steeped in resentment as mine had been.

Then I looked around the kitchen again, and I knew it wasn’t. Jack loved her in a way my father had never loved me.

“If this is going to work, she can’t get attached to you.”

I blinked. That wasn’t what I’d expected him to say. “You still want to move forward with this?” I gestured between us.

He leaned his elbows on the table and clasped his hands, staring at the chair where Darby had sat to eat dinner. “If it isn’t you, it’ll be someone else. My grandma won’t give up. And I guarantee they won’t be offering me three hundred and fifty grand to tie the knot.”

His words shouldn’t have made my stomach twist, shouldn’t have sent heat searing up the back of my throat, but they did. It was our agreement. The words written in black and white in our contract. So why did it feel so bad to hear it coming from his lips?

Was I expecting him to like me? To, what? Fall in love with me? That was the opposite of what I wanted!

“You want me to keep my distance from her?” I asked, then nodded. “That’s fine. I’m not motherly, anyway, so I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

“You can still cook for us,” he hurried to add, then grinned at the flat look I gave him. He laughed, shrugging. “Hey, dinner was really good. Beats the frozen pizzas we usually eat at least four times a week.”

“That’s a pretty low bar,” I noted. He laughed harder, which confused me as much as it sent a pleasant kind of warmth soaking through my belly. Before I did something so rash as laugh along with him, I added, “I’ll keep my distance from her. I’ll only be here as long as it takes to file the certificate, anyway. After that, there’s no reason for me to stay.”

A frown was there and gone. He nodded. “Right.”

“You don’t agree?”

“My grandma might have questions.”

“She might have a whole lot of questions when we file for divorce, but it’s still going to happen.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but a buzz interrupted him. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he glanced at the screen—and then frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“My brother Bennett messaged.”

“Is everything okay?”