Honeymoon Phase By Amy Daws Read Free Chapter 19

Luke

“Oh my God, what is that heavenly smell?” Addison exclaims as she comes bursting into my house on Friday night at six o’clock sharp.

Our house.

Not my house.

She came bursting into our house.

That small mental correction has me smiling like a lovesick puppy as I watch my wife unlace her Converse shoes and drop all her stuff in a heap by the front door.

We’ve been living together for almost a week now and I still get so excited at the sight of her coming home to me. Every time it happens, my heart feels like it’s going to explode in my chest. And we’re not even sleeping with each other.

I shake away those crazy thoughts to answer her question. “Steak and potatoes. The only thing I really know how to make.”

Addison cuts me a look of disbelief as she walks over to the oven and opens it up to peek inside. “What are those?”

“Parmesan potatoes. My mom’s recipe. They’re not too hard. Just some flour and parmesan cheese and butter.”

“Looks incredible,” she says, turning to the counter to peek at the steaks that are marinating in a dish. “I thought I was supposed to be the one cooking in this marriage of convenience and you were going to do the shopping. What did I do to deserve this?”

“You cooked every night this week, Roe. This is literally the least I can do.” I huff out a noise of indignation. “Besides it’s nothing special.”

She splays her hand out on the counter where I’m chopping up some lettuce for side salads. “Um . . . you put your life on hold for a year to fake marry me so I can inherit my family business. That’s pretty damn special, which is why I should do all the cooking.”

My brows fold at her response because nothing about this feels fake, except for the fact that she doesn’t sleep in my bed. And I’d really fucking like her to.

She snatches a cherry tomato out of the container in front of me and asks, “Do I have time to shower quick?”

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll throw them on the grill while you’re in there.”

“Great,” she replies rubbing her hand down my arm as she walks past me. “Be right back.”

I watch her disappear down the hall and try my hardest not to picture her stripping down to nothing and jumping in that hot shower all alone. Her fingers undoing the braid in her hair as her soft, dark tendrils caress her creamy back—a piece brushing over her hardened nipple in the front.

Fuck. Stop, Luke.

You’re wooing her, not trying to hook up with her in the first week. This is a marathon, not a sprint. Although considering Everly thinks I need to close this deal before the wedding, it’s more like a half-mile run maybe. Is a mile a marathon? Or a 5K? Fuck if I know, I just know that every time I see her, I want to kiss the ever-loving shit out of her and see what she looks like under those fucking T-shirts she prances around in at night.

I’ve had to watch her make sourdough bread every goddamn night this week while I stroke my cock.

Wait . . . that’s not what I meant.

Rufus.

I mean stroke Rufus.

We’ve gotten into a habit of her baking bread while I feed Rufus his nightly snack. Addison usually plays music when she does her “stretch and fold” ritual, and I watch her sway her hips in the kitchen so much that Rufus has shit on the floor three times this week and I didn’t even notice because I was too busy eye-fucking her.

God, I have it bad.

I think on some level, I wondered if moving Addison in with me could help me get over her. Like, maybe we weren’t as compatible as I once thought, and we’d grate on each other’s nerves. I know it’s only been a week, but we already have a routine together and that seems like a really good early sign.

And if I’m not mistaken, the touching is getting way more frequent. Roe always has been a little handsy with me . . . usually in playful shoves or hits. But lately, it’s caresses and rubs or just resting her palm on me when I’m talking to her. The way she touches me before she says good-night is fucking killing me. It gives me hope that maybe she sees me as more than a friend too, but her head hasn’t caught up to her heart yet.

God, I could only hope.

She emerges twenty minutes later barefaced with her black hair wet and tied up into a clip. The smell of her lotion is so strong, I have to fight back the urge to wrap her up in my arms and bury my face in her neck. God, I love that eucalyptus smell on her.

I plate our food and pour a couple glasses of red wine and we sit at the dining room table together, on the same side so we can watch the sun set. That’s another one of our routines. She loves watching the sunset so we’ve started eating earlier so we don’t miss it.

She takes a bite of steak and moans. “Ugh, so good.”

“I’m sure you could have done better.”

“Nope,” she says, stabbing another bite of steak. “This is perfection. Food always tastes better when you don’t have to cook it.”

“That’s good to know. I was worried you’d be irritated.”

“Naw, I love to cook, but it’s fun to be surprised.”

“So you like surprises?” I ask, still trying to learn as much as I can about my best friend.

She wiggles her ring finger at me as proof and I can’t help but smile. She hasn’t taken it off since I gave it to her, and the immense pride I feel in that is alarming. I researched a ridiculous amount of time on the internet to find the perfect ring. Something that wasn’t too flashy because I know she would have been awkward about that, but I wanted it to be something that matched her essence. The fact that Cartier had the ring in stock and the sample size fit her perfectly was just fate telling me I got it right.

“Any more surprises from my mom this week?” I ask, taking a sip of my wine.

Addison shakes her head. “She just texted me requesting my guest list, which I was able to crank out without having a nervous breakdown.”

“Nice,” I reply with a laugh. “How many people?”

“Not a lot. My dad, Edith, like six of the guys from the lumberyard plus a few of my dad’s clients that he’s known for years. So, all together only like fifteen people.”

“Okay, that’s perfect. That’s about my number too. I told my mom we were keeping it small and not inviting the entire town of Boulder to this thing.”

“Who is on your list?” she asks, taking a sip of her wine.

“My mom, my brothers and the ladies, Everly, Ethan, Judy who owns the Mercantile in town, and a handful of my mom’s friends from Boulder.”

“So like thirty people roughly?” she says, doing some quick math. “That’s not too scary. Did you finish our quiz?”

“I did. And you’ll be happy to learn that I am a Summer.”

“Thank God,” she replies dramatically, splaying her hands out on the table. “Our color palettes won’t clash with each other and ruin our precious photos.”

I chuckle softly. “I can show you some of the things I picked out if you want? No big deal if you’re not interested though.”

“I’d love to see them,” she replies with wide eyes. “Let’s see what kinds of vibes I can expect for our big day.”

“We also need to pick a date,” I state, pausing my eating to eye her seriously. “I was thinking the weekend before Christmas could be good because Everly is home by then and we’re not completely taking over the holidays.”

Addison nods and her eyes widen. “Holy shit, that’s like six weeks away.”

“Shit, is that too soon? We could do New Year’s too.”

“No, it’s fine,” she replies with a casual wave of her hand. “I’ll check with the old man to be sure that works for him, but it’s okay by me.”

“Cool,” I murmur while rising from the table to grab my laptop. My heart rate spikes over the fact that she said it’s only six weeks away. That means I have only six weeks left to get my wife to fall in love with me.

No pressure.

I pull up the website my mom set up for us and point to the collage of items that populate on the screen. “I tried to answer all the questions with you in mind and it basically created this whole, like, proposal of what the day could look like.”

“Your mom called it a mood board!” Addison says, pulling the computer closer to her.

“Does it look okay?” I ask, watching her nervously because this feels like a test.

I went with understated elegance. It’s a winter wedding so I highlighted a lot of greenery and spruce decor with rich red florals mixed in. The website said good colors for an Autumn are burgundy, warm oranges, mustard yellows, earthy browns, olive greens, terracotta, teal, and deep golden tones . . . not that I knew what any of those fucking things were before I lost hours of my life on this godforsaken website.

I can see why Roe lost her shit on it.

But it did a nice job putting everything together for me. Lots of candles in glass holders and reception tables with simple white linens and natural winter accents like spruce tips, berries, and pine cones. It suggested a wool suit in charcoal or navy for me, so I snagged a couple options like that, and for her, it showed lots of long-sleeve lace gowns with fur shawls. Not that I have a clue what kind of wedding dress Addison would pick out. Maybe this will help her decide.

“This is beautiful, Luke,” she says, smiling as her eyes scan the screen. “The little wooden accents are so cute.”

“I thought you’d like those. I mean, I didn’t want to be too on the nose with the lumberyard tie-in, but the natural elements look pretty cool. I have no idea how my mom will even accomplish all of this, but she’s kinda legendary for getting shit done.”

Addison looks up, her eyes fixing on the window as the sun begins to disappear behind the trees. The golden light on her face is stunning as her hazel eyes look lighter than ever.

“Hey, do you think we could have the wedding outside here?” she asks, catching me completely off guard while I’m busy marveling over her beauty.

I jerk my attention to the window. “Here? During winter?”

She shrugs. “A winter wedding up here seems beautiful. On my run yesterday through those trails you showed me out back, it started to snow, and I swear I just stopped to watch it fall for like a whole hour. I was mesmerized by it. I’ve lived in Colorado my whole life but never really appreciated the mountains like this.”

My chest swells with pride over how easily she’s adjusting to life up here. Like she was always meant to be here. And call me delusional, but I love that she’s put some thought into this. This wedding means more to her than she’s ready to admit and I will do whatever I have to to foster that feeling she’s embracing inside of her.

For so long, Roe has lived such a minimal and practical life. She loves the lumberyard and her work, but I’ve never seen her really dream the way I’ve seen Trista and Dakota dream. Hearing her state so clearly something she simply wants just because she wants it . . . feels good. Like maybe this whole marriage of convenience is healing her in unexpected ways.

“Plus, my dad is paying for this wedding, and I guess I feel guilty renting an expensive venue when this is all just for show.”

My eyes close and I pinch the bridge of my nose, really wishing she didn’t add that last part. But she’s Roe. She is nothing if not practical.

“We could probably figure it out,” I reply with a frown and clear my throat, trying to hide my raging disappointment. “We’d need a backup in case there’s a storm or something. The barn is bursting at the seams with all of Trista’s rescues and we’re still a ways out from developing her new rescue center. But thirty people could probably fit in Wyatt’s house.” I glance out the side window toward his house, and Addison sidles up next to me to look as well. Even if we got snowed in between my house, Calder’s, Wyatt’s, and the apartment above the barn, we could probably make it work. “And Wyatt has that big angular window that overlooks the mountain so if we stood in front of it, we could feel like we were outside still.”

“That sounds perfect.” She smiles brightly and grips my arms. “I mean, I’m never doing this again in my life, so I guess I want it to be kind of . . . memorable. And a mountaintop wedding could certainly be that.”

I nod and watch her thoughtfully, trying to discern what is more important to her, budget or beauty. Please God, let it be beauty, because I’ll do anything to keep that smile on her face. I clear my throat and add, “I’ll talk to him but I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.”

“Amazing. Now I just have to hope dress shopping goes this well tomorrow.” She cringes and takes a sip of her wine. “Cozy, Trista, and Dakota are coming along, so that should help be a bit of a buffer with your mom at least.”

“Is my mom really that bad?” I ask, my face grave. “I can talk to her. Ask her to back off.”

Addison shakes her head and her shoulders lift slightly. “It’s not your mom. It’s me. I’m just . . . weird with moms. Ever since my mom left, I just . . . can’t seem to connect with women. Edith, bless her heart, tries so hard with me and I’m just such a bitch to her.”

“When was the last time you spoke to your mom?” I ask, venturing into new territory, but considering she spoke pretty freely about her brother the other night, maybe that’s a sign she’s willing to share more.

“I was twenty, so it’s been eight years now.” She sets her fork down and steeples her hands in front of her. Her lips thin when she adds, “She’d just got out of prison.”

I blink back my shock, trying not to let the first words stumble out of my mouth.

“She was the one driving the car when my brother died.” She expels the words with a shaky breath, like they’d been cooped up inside of her for way too long.

“Oh God, Roe. I had no idea.”

She makes a strange noise in the back of her throat. “He was only eight and she was a grown-ass adult . . .” She takes a long pause as she holds up her glass of wine, staring at it like a wine expert before adding, “with a blood alcohol level of .21 at the time of the accident.”

My heart sinks at the last part of her statement and a sickness forms in my stomach. “I’m so sorry.”

She nods, her lips pursed tight before she takes a drink of her wine, savoring it like she didn’t just drop the biggest bomb on me. “She was supposed to be sober at the time too, so that was a whole thing she lied to us about. I didn’t have my first sip of alcohol until I was twenty-two, which I know is nothing to really brag about, but at the time, it felt like a big deal because I thought I was never going to drink.”

“I can understand why you’d hesitate after a situation like that,” I say, my mind going back in time to clock all the times I noticed Addison taking a cab even after only one or two drinks. She’d always manage my transportation too, sometimes making me crash on her couch even when I’d only had a couple drinks. I didn’t really think much about it at the time, but now, it all makes sense.

“For years I looked at alcohol like this big bad thing that took my brother from me. I was obsessed with it. Noticed what everyone around me drank, noticed what my dad and his cronies drank. Counted every beer can they tossed out of their truck windows driving down gravel roads and went back to pick them all up the next day.”

She laughs and shakes her head, pushing her plate of food away before turning in her seat to face me. “This is embarrassing, but when I was a kid, I used to think the cops could find my dad’s beer cans on the side of the road and DNA test them and trace it back to him. Then he’d go to jail too and I would be an orphan.”

“That’s not embarrassing.” I reach my hand out and rest it on her leg as a small sign of comfort. “That just shows what happened affected you. It should have affected you. It was tragic.”

“It clearly affected my dad, but not in a good way,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. “I love that man but when I think back to my childhood after Aaron died, it was seriously fucked up.”

“I suppose he was just coping in his own way,” I offer, not really wanting to defend Addison’s dad, but the man lost his son. His baby boy. I know loss firsthand now and can’t imagine how it would affect me if I’d lost one of my brothers. Or if Max lost Everly or Ethan.

Fuck. How does a man ever come back from that?

“Yeah, he’s not as bad as he used to be, thank goodness. Which is maybe why as I got older, I realized it was crazy of me to obsess over something I’d never even tasted before. So, one day I just started having beers with the guys after work. I think I expected this big, heavy thing to overcome me. I thought I’d get addicted and instantly start craving it. But I didn’t. It was just a drink. It wasn’t stronger than me and I took pride in that. I resented my mother for letting it be stronger than her.”

I nod slowly, thinking back to when I first asked Roe to go out with me for beers. She would have been twenty-three at the time so not drinking long. I bet her mind was fixating on every sip she took.

“Where is your mom now?” I ask, watching her thoughtfully.

“I have no idea,” she replies with a laugh. “She got out of jail, came home to get some of her stuff, and I never saw her again. She didn’t even say goodbye.”

My eyes tighten as I watch Roe curl up into a ball on the chair, looking so young and childlike. I kind of sensed she had some abandonment issues, but this goes even deeper than I realized.

“Ugh, I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this.” She shakes her hands out and stands up to start clearing the plates.

“Don’t do that,” I state, grabbing her wrist to stop her movement.

“Don’t do what?” She frowns down at me.

“Don’t open up and then shut down. You don’t have to do that with me. If you want to talk, I’m here to listen. Always.”

Her eyes hold mine captive for a long, silent moment and it feels like we’re having a full conversation with no words. She’s always carried something dark and painful inside of her. I can see it when she’s around her dad. She loves him, but there’s a pain they share that I’ve wanted to understand more. But if I pry too hard to open up, she’ll just push me away.

Her breath catches before she drops back down into her seat and leans back against the table, gazing into the kitchen with a pensive look in her eye. “Apparently my mom had gotten out on parole for good behavior or something. We had no idea because we never got to visit her in prison. She had to put us on a list to see her and no matter how many times my dad put in a request, she always denied him.

“Anyways, I was still living at home with my dad, and we’d come home together after work one day to find her car, which was stored in one of the machine sheds, parked out in front of the house with the trunk open. My mom appeared on the front step with an armload of her stuff, and I swear it was like seeing a ghost.”

My heart lurches as her voice cracks, and I can’t help but notice the tremble in her chin as she fights away the emotion bubbling up to the surface.

“It’s weird to have this twelve-year-old mental image of your mom and then suddenly you’re an adult and seeing her through more mature eyes. I barely recognized her as I had a totally different image built up in my head. My dad told me to stay in the truck and even though I was an adult at the time, I suddenly felt like a kid all over again, so I just listened and sat there totally mute, watching him follow her in and out of the house as she gathered her things. They were fighting and shouting, and he looked so mad at one point, I thought he was going to hit her.”

“Fuck,” I murmur under my breath, pressing my fist to my mouth as I swallow down the knot in my throat.

“Finally, he stopped following her and just stood on our front step while she got in her car and backed out of the lane. She stopped beside my dad’s truck and looked at me through the closed window. It’s weird because it made me think of the prison glass I’d always seen people talk to the inmates through on movies and stuff.”

Addison licks her lips and chews the bottom one, pointing to her chin as it begins to tremble. “Her chin trembled just like mine does. It was like I was looking in a mirror that aged me twenty years. We have the same dark hair, same hazel eyes and round cheeks. Same wobbly chin that shows all our emotions.”

She swipes at some errant tears that fall down her face before adding, “I held my breath, waiting for her to get out of the car to hug me, to beg for forgiveness, to tell me how much she missed me and that she was sorry for lying to us. She wasn’t a bad mom before the accident. I have good memories with her. Memories that now all feel like a lie, because if they were real, how could she just drive away and not say anything to me? How could she go eight years without hugging me and still not want to hug me before she left? Even just to say goodbye?”

Addison shudders a breath as she braces her hands on her knees. I stop myself from touching her, because I don’t want to pop this bubble she’s in right now. She holds so much inside, she’s like a dam ready to break at any second. And if she’s going to break, I’m right here to catch her.

She clears her throat and wrinkles her nose, steeling herself for the end of the story. “But she didn’t get out. She drove off and I never heard from her again. It’s been just me and my dad ever since.” She pulls her leg up onto the bench and holds her knees to her chest, shaking her head, raw and spent from that emotional confession.

I reach over and wrap my arms around my friend, holding her to me, kissing her on her head as I say, “She missed out.” I swallow the pain in my throat and repeat, “She missed out on a whole lot.”

Roe nods woodenly and rests her cheek on her knees, looking at me through watery eyes. “I like it here, Luke,” she says, pinning me with a sobering look. “I like being with you and I need us to be good and not worry about this falling apart, okay?”

I frown and stare back at her, guilt settling in my gut over the magnitude of her request. It’s a simple request a friend should be able to make to a friend.

It’s much more complicated when one of the friends is in love with the other. But ultimately, I’d do anything for this girl.

I half smile, reaching out to touch the curved nail wrapped around her finger. “For better or worse, Addison Monroe . . . I got you.”