“He’s not a serial killer.”
“You don’t know that. I searched him out after we got back today, and he has a clean record, but it seems you forgot to tell me one thing about him.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And that is?”
“That he looks like a Calvin Klein model.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What? Wait a minute… are you…?” I began giggling as I stared at the serious expression on Jeff’s face. “Are you jealous?”
He tossed his hands up in defeat. “I’m glad you find this funny! It’s not every day your girlfriend marries a good-looking-ass guy.”
“Just a quick reminder that none of this was my idea, Jeff. It was yours. I didn’t want to go through with it.”
“I know, all right? I know. I just didn’t know you were shacking up with a Greek god.”
I moved in closer and wrapped my arms around him. “I didn’t even notice his looks, honestly.”
That was a lie. I did notice his looks. It was impossible not to do so.
Jeff appeared relieved by my response. “You should keep your distance.”
I smiled. “I don’t see the jealous side of you often. It’s kind of a turn-on.”
He placed his records down and pulled me onto his lap. “Yeah? That does it for you?”
“My boyfriend being jealous of my fake husband? Oh, yeah. That’s the key to my turn-ons.”
He glanced down the hallway. “Are you free for a bit?”
“Yes.” I felt butterflies forming in my stomach as I snuggled into him, thinking the next stop would be our bedroom. Instead, Jeff’s phone rang, and the small connection we had was interrupted as he answered it with me in his lap.
“Hello? Hey, yeah. What’s up?” Jeff listened to the other person speaking, and his eyes lit up. “Right now? Oh hell yes, I’m in. Give me twenty minutes. I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone and went to stand quickly, knocking me out of his lap and onto the floor.
“Hey!” I argued.
“Sorry, babe. Just got a call from 5-90 club. They need a last-minute DJ, and Cassie gave them my name.”
“Cassie? Who’s Cassie?”
“Another local DJ,” he explained. He looked at me, and a wicked smirk fell against his lips. “Now who’s jealous?”
“What? I’m not…” Okay, maybe a little. But he didn’t have to throw that in my face. He knew everything about Damian and the situation. I’d never heard the name Cassie fall from his lips, not once, but I didn’t want to fight. Not with everything going on. “You’re going now?”
“Yeah. It’s a big opportunity for me. For us, I mean. I gotta go spin.”
“Wait, we still need to talk. Especially about that new equipment you have, and—”
“Stella. Not now. I lost out on money last night, and I can’t again today. Can you chill with the overthinking for a moment?”
I got quiet.
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let me guess. You’re going to be pissy now.”
“What? No. It’s just… I feel like we’re having a disconnected moment.”
“That’s just because you’re too sensitive and overthinking this. We’re fine, baby. I forgive you for overreacting.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek before he hurried out of the space and went to collect his things.
Was I overreacting? Was I too sensitive?
He’s right. I’m overthinking it all.
Once he finished, he came out and found me still sitting on the living room floor where he dropped me. He walked over to me and kissed my forehead. “Wish me luck.”
“Luck,” I muttered.
“I’ll see you in a bit, all right? And I’m not kidding, still. Set up a dinner meeting for Damian and me. I want to make my presence known.”
“Okay. Love you,” I called out.
“You too,” he replied, slamming the front door behind him.
14
Damian
* * *
That’s him?
That’s the boyfriend?
I’m sorry, but…
What the actual fuck?
How did someone like Stella end up with someone like him?
I couldn’t comprehend how someone as gentle and bubbly could end up with someone like Jeff. He was the poster child for a spineless dick who walked all over women and broke them down just so he could feel an inch bigger and better than the loser he truly had been.
It didn’t make sense in my mind. Sure, Stella had no choice in choosing me as her husband due to the arrangement, but I was beyond baffled that her choice would lead her to a man like Jeff. Her standards weren’t even at ground level. They were completely underground. The bar was in hell, and Jeff set it on fire.
“Are you going to keep pacing on my front porch or actually come inside?” Maple called out from inside her home.
I stood still, thrown off by being caught pacing, even though Maple hadn’t turned to see me.
“Open the door, son,” she said, urging me to step inside her home.
I did as she said, closing it behind me. She sat at her dining room table, flipping tarot cards with crystals and lit candles surrounding her. It looked like a fire hazard of sorts. As Maple flipped through her deck, I walked over to her.
“How did you know I was out there? Your shades are drawn,” I asked.
“Call it a sixth sense.”
I went to take a step closer, and she turned to face me with her deck in hand. “Pick a card?”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe in that stuff.”
“What do you mean by that stuff?”
“Witchcraft and voodoo mumbo jumbo.”
Maple smiled, unmoved by my dismissal of her craft. “People don’t believe in a lot of things. That doesn’t mean it’s not real. Regardless, I understand. Aries men are a bit harder to believe in things not directly in front of them.”
“I’m an Aquarius, not an Aries.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t believe in this witchcraft, voodoo mumbo jumbo?”
“I don’t. Though, I’ve been told enough to know my zodiac sign.”
“Spoken like a true Aries,” she said again, laying out a spread of cards.
“I told you, I’m not an Aries.”
“Of course, you aren’t. With your sun sign, at least. But, sweetheart, today I’m talking about your moon.”
I had no clue what the hell she was going on about, and she smiled bigger, noticing my confusion. She placed down her final cards, studied them, made a stumped sound, then looked at me, looked at the cards, then back at me. “Hmph,” she muttered again.
Then she blew out her candles, stacked her deck, and turned her chair to face me. “How can I help you, Damian?”
“I have a question for you.”
“I know. So, ask.”
“Is there any chance that Jeff is hurtful toward Stella?”
Maple raised an eyebrow. “Did he do something to her?”
“Yes, well, no. Not physically that I can tell. I just have a bad feeling.” I shifted in my shoes. “He’s rude to her. And undermining. And a drunk.”