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Aster doesn’t answer.
“Thank goodness there’s divorce,” I tell her.
I was just joking about it earlier, but now, it seems like a serious possibility. In fact, it seems to be the next logical step. If you pretend to marry someone, you pretend to get divorced. If you marry someone for real, you get divorced. For real.
“I’ll have my lawyer draw up the papers and we can sign and make this whole mess go away.”
It’s not what I want, but if Aster doesn’t really want to be married to me, I can’t force her.
“No,” she says suddenly.
I arch my eyebrows. “No?”
“We’re not getting divorced,” she tells me. “Not yet. If we do, then that’s disrespectful. And it would make my dad unhappy. He’ll know that I married just for him. He’ll worry about me even more, and I’m supposed to be easing my dad’s fears, not making him worry.”
Makes sense. Noah wouldn’t want a divorce. In fact, I’m absolutely sure he wouldn’t.
Aster shakes her head. “We’re not getting a divorce. We’re already married. We should stick to it until my dad…”
She stops. I already know what the rest of the sentence is, though.
Until his memory fails. Or is it until he passes away? I’m well aware that a person diagnosed with Alzheimer’s doesn’t have long left to live. Ten years at most? Usually eight. More often, three to five. The mind goes and then the rest of the body follows. Right now, Noah’s disease hasn’t progressed much, but that doesn’t mean the clock hasn’t started ticking. I’ve seen Alzheimer’s patients who are lucid one minute and not the next. They can lose their memory slowly or in one go. And once it goes, it’s gone for good. The patient can still have a lucid day, but usually, it’s a parting gift, a chance to say goodbye. Then they’re gone. All gone.
“We’ll stick with it for a while,” Aster rewords her earlier statement. “If that’s okay with you.”
“Yeah,” I answer.
No protests here.
“I know it’s a little late for me to ask, but you don’t have a girlfriend, do you?” Aster asks.
I chuckle. “No.”
“But I’m sure you can easily find someone when we’re done, even if you’re already forty.”
“I’m flattered you think I’ll still be attractive by then,” I say.
I don’t want to think about finding someone else, though.
Aster stands up and shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind if you started looking, actually. Like I said, this marriage isn’t – ”
“No,” I cut her off. “No cheating. This marriage may not be real to either of us, but it is to your father and the rest of the world, and we have to keep it that way.”
Aster nods. “Okay. No cheating.”
Good. Even if it’s just for the next ten years, I won’t have to worry that she’ll be with another man. With any other man.
I lift a hand to touch Aster’s cheek. She draws a breath.
Ten years is a long time. During that time, a lot of things can change or be accomplished. I can make her mine. I can make her unable to leave me or want any man but me.
“Mason?”
My thumb touches the corner of her lips. I can still remember how they felt against mine even though that kiss we shared after the ceremony earlier barely lasted two seconds. Our second kiss. I’ll make sure the third lasts much longer.
I consider giving it to her now, but Aster purses her lips and takes my hand off her face.
“I don’t think we should kiss, either,” she says.
My heart sinks. Seriously?
“Actually, I don’t think we should have any physical contact.”
In other words, she’s saying no sex. Well, I’ll be damned if I agree to that.
“Are you sure about that?” I ask her. “Sure you don’t want me to touch you?”
I let my knuckles slide down the outside of her arm while my gaze holds hers. She trembles.
My fingers collide with her lace glove as I reach her wrist, but I don’t stop. Instead, I trace a random pattern on her palm with my fingertips. Aster flinches. She jerks her hand away, but I grab it and flatten her palm against the middle of my chest. I leave it there and challenge her with my gaze.
“Sure you don’t want to touch me?”
Aster swallows. For a moment, her hand remains on me as her eyes try to resist mine. Then she pulls it away and turns her head.
“No.” Her answer is barely above a whisper.
I step forward so that my body is just inches away from hers. My lips hover above her ear.
“No, you don’t want to touch me or no, you’re not sure you don’t want to?”
I brush my hand against her hair, then slip my fingers beneath it so that they graze the skin behind her shoulder blades.
“Mason.” Aster puts a hand on my arm as she looks up at me. “I’m not ready for this.”
