31. Ashley

31

ASHLEY

One month. I’d been married to Declan Wolfe for one month, and I honestly couldn’t believe how much my life had changed, and yet nothing had changed. It was a strange Twilight Zone existence.

I sat at the kitchen table, tore open the tab of the white, legal-sized envelope, and pulled out the documents. My eyes scanned the paperwork that had just been delivered to my house via FedEx. Even seeing the proof in black and white was still not enough for it to actually sink in that Declan had delivered everything he’d promised.

Everything I’d outlined in my grant proposal had come to fruition. Declan had made Artistic Horizons a reality. I was officially the executive director of a non-profit with a healthy budget of half a million dollars a year at my disposal. The five hundred thousand was guaranteed, but he’d also promised to hold an annual fundraiser on its behalf.

He’d kept his word and paid off my student loans and credit card debt. And his generosity didn’t stop there. A few days after our wedding, I checked my bank balance and discovered that he’d deposited a hefty sum in my personal bank account, and there were more zeros in my savings than I’d ever seen before.

I felt entirely unworthy of everything he’d given me. I hadn’t earned it. I didn’t deserve it. Like the diamond ring, I’d told him to take it back; I told him I could not accept the money; I told him that he’d gone above and beyond our original agreement, and it was too much, but he was hearing none of it. Besides being generous, he was aggressively stubborn and accustomed to getting his way. People typically did what Declan Wolfe wanted them to do, including myself, it seemed.

A loud knock sounded at the door, and I jumped at least an inch off the kitchen chair. Mr. Purrfect shot into the living room and disappeared into one of his various hiding spots. He wasn’t the most sociable of cats. I headed down the hall to the entryway and wondered if this was another flower delivery. I was averaging three per week over the past month.

There was no rhyme or reason for when they would show up on my doorstep. They were all different arrangements with different flowers in them. Declan had continued to surprise me.

Besides showering me with floral attention, he was in constant communication with me. He texted every morning and several times throughout the day. And every night, he’d call or FaceTime. The nightly check-ins had quickly become my favorite times of the day. I found myself looking forward to them. Our nighttime talks lasted anywhere between fifteen minutes to several hours. I’m not even sure what we talked about. That was the thing with him; we never really ran out of things to say.

Out of everything that had transpired since we’d said our I-dos, that had surprised me the most. I assumed once I was his wife, he’d basically ghost me until he needed me for the Christmas party. I could not be more wrong. Part of me wondered if the attention I was getting was just his way of keeping me happy until he signed the papers. It was his insurance that I wouldn’t bail. It would make sense if that were the case. It was actually the only thing that would make sense.

He’d been the one to point out the ulterior motives any man I married on a reality show would have. It was how his mind worked. It wouldn’t be such a stretch to believe that he was just doing his due diligence to make sure his investment was secure.

When I opened the door, I was surprised to see Nadia standing on the other side, holding a bottle of wine and a bag of junk food snacks. I’d barely seen her since my wedding day. We’d only hung out once since I’d sent out the bat signal calling her to my impromptu secret ceremony, watched an entire season of Love is Blind, and drank copious amounts of wine.

Seeing her standing on my porch served to jog my memory. She’d sent a text a few days ago asking if I was free this Saturday to binge the latest season of Love Island . With everything going on, it had completely slipped my mind.

“Hey, chickadee!” I hoped that I covered my surprise and the fact that I’d totally blanked on our plans.

“Hello, stranger!” She stepped inside and gave me a hug.

The past month had been crazy busy. If I wasn’t working on Artistic Horizons, I was at Skylar’s helping with Luna, the baby, housework, cleaning, and cooking. Hank was an incredible new daddy, but due to Skylar having an emergency C-section, her recovery had been more difficult than it had been with Luna, and she needed extra help. I was so happy that I’d had the time and flexibility to be able to be there, which I would not have had if I were working full-time. Declan had made that possible.

“So, how is married life treating you?” Nadia asked as she set the bottle of wine and snacks down on the kitchen table and sniffed one of the rose bouquets. “From the looks and smell of it, I would say good.”

There were over a dozen floral arrangements sprinkled throughout the front room and kitchen.

“Um, yeah. It’s good.”

“These are all from Big, right?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “They are.”

Big . It was so strange to think of him as the man I met in the bar whose name I didn’t know. The mysterious one-night stand who I fantasized about for six months. It was also so strange to think of him as the boss who’d made my life miserable for six months and who I couldn’t stand. Neither of those people fit the man I now knew as my husband. The man who sent me good morning texts and flowers several times a week for no reason. The man who FaceTimed Luna’s ballet recital because he couldn’t be there in person. The man who listened to me talk about Mason’s diaper rash and tummy time. The man who made me feel heard, seen, valued, and appreciated in a way no one on this earth, including my sister, ever had.

Nadia walked over to the kitchen table and set down the wine and tote filled with junk food. “What’s all this?”

“That is Artistic Horizons.”

“Wow. So it’s actually happening.” She stared down at the article of incorporation as if she didn’t believe what she was seeing.

I could relate. It had been a pipe dream for so long that the fact that it was a reality hadn’t fully set in. I kept waiting for someone to tell me this was all a joke or some Truman Show situation and that I was on a television show, and none of this was actually happening.

“Yep. I found the perfect space downtown, and I’m gonna sign the lease on Monday. Actually, I was going to talk to you to see if you wanted to come on as the program manager. I mean only part-time. And it would be flexible around your teaching schedule, of course.”

Nadia had recently inherited her grandfather’s home, which needed a ton of work, and her bank account didn’t have a ‘ton of work’ budget. She’d been talking about getting a part-time job since teaching paid next to nothing.

Her face lit up, and I could see dollar signs in her eyes. “Seriously?”

I nodded. “Yeah, do you think it’s something you’d be interested in?”

“Does Howdy Doody have wooden balls?!” She threw her arms around me in a hug.

I hugged her back. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

My phone vibrated on the counter, and my heart skipped a beat. Lately, it had been the default whenever I got a notification because I knew there was a fifty-fifty chance it was from Declan.

I picked it up and when I saw it was Declan, I couldn’t help the automatic smile that spread on my lips. It was an involuntary response—a knee-jerk reaction. He was checking to make sure I got the paperwork and asking what I was wearing. The “what-are-you-wearing” question was a running joke…sort of. He’d asked once because he’d FaceTimed me when I was with Luna, and we were dressed up as beekeepers for a school science project she was working on. It was the first thing he asked, and now he asked as a joke every time he texted or called. Although I’d noticed that lately, he’d gotten a little bit flirtier than he had been. I liked it—a lot.

“Uh oh.” Nadia voiced the sound of doom as she mimed her hands playing a piano or organ. “Dun, dun, dun, dun.”

My brow furrowed. “What?”

“You are in love with him.”

“What?” I repeated.

“You’re in love with your husband.”

“No, I’m not.” I quickly denied the accusation.

Her head tilted to the side as her eyes narrowed. “Who just texted you?”

“Why?”

“Who texted you?” she demanded.

“Declan, but?—”

“No buts about it, baby. You have cartoon hearts floating around your head. You are in love with him.”

“No, I’m not?—”

“Stop.” She held up her hand. “There are worse things than being in love with your husband.”

“I’m not, and he’s not really my husband.”

“I hate to break it to you, but he really is. In the eyes of the law and the man upstairs.” She pointed up.

“You know what I mean. This is temporary.”

“Only if you want it to be.”

I never should have told Nadia that Declan had made it clear he would be open to staying married to me. It was a moment of weakness after we’d had a few glasses of wine at our last reality TV binge-watching session.

“I don’t love him,” I maintained. I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince, myself or Nadia.

“Yes, you do, and it’s not a bad thing.” She extended her arms out like a showcase model on The Price is Right. “He’s clearly into you; see exhibits A-F. He’s hotter than Georgia asphalt, richer than Scrooge McDuck, gives you better orgasms than your vibrator, and he put a ring on it, so he’s not afraid of commitment. I do not see what the problem is.”

“He doesn’t believe in love.”

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “In the immortal words of Ms. Tina Turner, what’s love got to do with it?”

Everything. I sighed internally. That was the problem. For me, love has everything to do with it.