Natalie fell asleep with hope that this situation would work out for the best. Vincent seemed more than ready to give it a try once he realized he’d spoken with Natalie the whole time and not her sister, but as the next few days wore on, she believed he regretted his decision to keep her around almost immediately.
Sunday passed with her wandering around the house and picking through the library she’d found the day before. There were several interesting titles she was curious to page through and occupied her time reading from the comfort of the couch. Vincent checked on her once or twice throughout the day, each time opening his mouth as if to ask her questions, but he would smile quickly and walk away. Dinner was dreadful, both eating only to get away from the table and hide from each other again. The house was large enough that it was easy to make herself disappear. She considered talking to him Monday when he came home from the office, but the scowl on his face let her know he was in a pissy mood. Gruffly, he told her he would be on the phone all evening in his study and apologized for not being able to spend time with her.
Tuesday, while he was at the office again, Natalie busied herself with tracking down some cookbooks in the library and whipping together a good old-fashioned steak and potatoes dinner with a flair. She was pouring the red wine when he walked in.
“You don’t have to cook for me,” were the first words out of his mouth, and Natalie’s chest tightened, fighting back her hurt.
“I know, but I thought you might enjoy a meal when you came home. I don’t mind. Besides,” she added, handing him a glass of wine, “what would everyone think if they knew your wife didn’t cook for her husband every now and then?”
His eyes narrowed and he sat down hard at the kitchen table. “We’re still working on the husband and wife thing, remember?”
Natalie pushed her tongue against her upper lip, annoyed, and cut into her steak. “You’re right, sorry. I won’t mention it again.”
“Natalie.”
“Huh?”
“Your piercings. You put them all back in.”
She tugged at her right ear. “I have to wear them every now and then or the holes will close.”
“What if someone came to the door today?” he asked, not looking at her. “Did you wear that all day, too?” He motioned to her typical sweatshirt and denim shorts.
Natalie breathed in and out, counting to ten in her mind. “Yes, I did. I only brought so many clothes. The rest of my stuff won’t be delivered until next week. Do you have an issue with how I look?”
“I told you, public appearance is very important,” he reminded her stiffly. “You can’t have the piercings at the reception.”
“Whatever you say, dear,” she snapped and pushed back from the table.
“Where are you going? You didn’t even touch your food.”
“I’m not hungry, thanks.” She poured more wine into her glass, picked up the book she’d read all day from the counter, and trudged upstairs to her bedroom. Her eyes skimmed over the words, but none of them registered in her mind. What happened to the Vincent she’d warmed up to on Saturday? The man willing to give her a chance—give them a chance? She stayed in her room for the remainder of the night, not daring to venture out until she heard his door slam around midnight.
Saturday finally arrived and Natalie dreaded it. She slipped into the one nice outfit she’d packed, her snug black slacks, short black heels, white blouse, belt, and red tank to wear underneath. She did her hair, curling it and pulling the curls up with pins. Her makeup was simple, and she only wore a single pair of silver studs with a matching necklace resting above her cleavage. She stared at her reflection for several long minutes, hating how Vincent’s attitude and words the past few days had started to wear her down so she second-guessed whether she looked good enough for him. Years ago, she hadn’t given a shit what anyone thought, and then the accident happened. After that, she locked herself away in her apartment, angry at the world for turning against her for something that wasn’t even her fault.
“Ready?” Vincent asked, knocking on her door.
“Yeah, just a second.” She smoothed her hands down her slacks and opened her door. “Is this appropriate?”
“You don’t have a skirt or dress?”
Setting her jaw, she pushed past him for the stairs. “No, and if I have to change we’ll be late.”
He muttered something behind her, but she tuned him out, picked up her purse, and walked out the front door. A car was waiting for them this evening, and she didn’t wait for him before she walked to the back door and the driver opened the door for her. She sucked in a deep breath before she climbed inside and closed her eyes, hoping she wouldn’t get sick on the way to the hotel. Her annoyance at Vincent helped her focus on something other than the vehicle she was in. The drive to the hall was horribly awkward, but no worse than the night before. That had been atrocious. He’d come to her in the library and said they had to go over a simple plan to explain to people how they met and why they kept their relationship and wedding a secret. She wanted to tell him why not tell the truth and simply print out her twin sister’s profile since that was who he really wanted by his side, but she bit back the words and did her best to help him.
They agreed to say they met at a Rangers game two years ago and had dated ever since, always keeping it private so news of her dating life wouldn’t affect her career.
“What is your job anyway, if you’re not a paralegal?” he’d asked.
“Junior college professor,” she’d told him. “It’s why I currently have nothing to do. I don’t teach classes over the summer.”
“I thought you didn’t like to be around people?”
“I don’t. I teach the online courses.”
If he was really curious about what she taught, he didn’t bother asking and she wasn’t offering anymore answers to make it easier for him. If this was the real Vincent Cunningham, she was glad her sister had not been the one to go through with the wedding. Lana was too nice for her own good, and this man would have walked all over her.
“You know everything you’re supposed to say?” he asked as the car parked outside the hotel, and she released her grip on the edge of the seat. They’d made it in one piece.
“Do you?” she challenged.
The annoyance on his face was no match for what she felt. The driver opened the door before he could respond, and she slid out of the back seat, making him keep up with her so they could walk into the hall together.
You said you weren’t going to fuck with his career, she reminded herself sternly. Stop being a bitch and suck it up, princess.
She waited for him outside the door and held out her hand. “Ready, dear?” she asked, trying to sound like a happily married wife and not pissed off.
Vincent took her hand firmly in his and planted a kiss on the back of it as the doors opened from the inside. “Always.”
They walked in as one of the band members on the stage across the room announced them. “May I introduce to you Mr. and Mrs. Vincent Cunningham! Can they get a round of applause, people?”
The hall erupted in loud cheers and whistles, clapping and shouts of well wishes as the band started playing what was supposedly their song. Vincent led her out to the dance floor and spun her out far before drawing her into his arms as the music played and everyone gathered around the edge of the dance floor.
“This is the song you picked?” he whispered.
“I thought it was very fitting,” she said as Lana Del Rey’s Love sounded around them.
Being this close to him again awoke the sense of belonging within her and the insane urge to kiss him in front of everyone, but she remembered how the week had gone and kissing him was the last thing on her mind. She struggled to keep a smile on her face and make it look like she had a good time with her husband. The song finally ended, and Vincent held up their clasped hands. Now the fun would really begin, and Natalie braced herself for an onslaught of questions. Most were thankfully directed at Vincent, and she let him take the lead. She shook hands and introduced herself to his colleagues and family friends, and even his mother, Doris, who sauntered over with a man on her arm.
“You are certainly a sight to behold, my dear,” Doris exclaimed and hugged her close. “I’ll be expecting grandchildren now, don’t you forget that.”
Natalie burst out laughing as Vincent’s face turned five shades of red and he ground his teeth. “Mom, really? You can’t wait to do that later?”
“Do what later? I’m simply telling this adorable woman about my hopes and dreams.”
“Tell her about them later, for the love of God,” he muttered.
Doris waved her hand in her son’s face, and Natalie covered her laughter with a loud cough. Vincent shot her a look as he tried to speak with a few more people. They all noticed the sudden spike in tension between them, and Natalie was tempted to reach over and pinch his arm. If he couldn’t wipe that damn scowl off his face, no one would believe they were happily married. After an hour of him explaining to people about how they met and warding off any questions that dug too deep into the personal lives they clearly didn’t know, Vincent looked ready to lose it. Natalie’s hand tapped his, but he snatched it away quickly.
“I need to get some air. If you’ll excuse me,” he announced abruptly and walked away from the group of people he was talking to, mostly other business owners who were clearly interested in his upcoming campaign.
“My, is he all right, dear?” one of the women asked Natalie politely.
“I think it’s work, and he had a cold earlier this week,” she lied. “Nothing to worry about. I’m sure you know how men get when they’re sick,” she added with a wink, and the older women around her laughed knowingly. “If you’ll excuse me? I’ll go check on him.”
Natalie stopped by the bar and snagged two glasses and a bottle of whiskey before she stalked out of the hall. A few people pointed her helpfully towards the doors leading to the gardens outside the hotel. Vincent was ruining his night. She was trying her best to be happy and make a good impression for him, and what did he do? Sulk and destroy this relationship before it even had a chance to get started. He was a damn hypocrite, and she would not watch him sabotage himself on a night as important as their reception. He’d never told her why he wanted to run for Congress, but she had an inkling it had to do with his late father.
She walked through the gardens teeming with beautiful flowers in bloom and a burbling stream that ran under an iron bridge. The grounds were empty except for her and the man she found leaning on the railing of the bridge, glaring into the water.
“You keep staring that hard, your face will stick,” she said as she joined him.
“I said I needed some air,” he grumbled.
“No, what you need is whiskey. Here,” she said and poured him a glass, along with one for herself, and set the bottle down. She clinked her glass against his. “Cheers.” She shot the whiskey back in one swallow, smacking her lips and shuddering at the burn down her throat. “Damn, I picked a good bottle.”
“What are you trying to do?”
“I’m trying to keep this night going for you while you seem content to ruin it.”
His eyes widened. “You’re joking, right?”
“Who’s standing there looking like the most dejected man in the world? That would be you. Who’s been nothing but an asshole all week? Also, you. I said I would stand by your side and not fuck up your career and I meant it. Did you?”
“Did I what?” he snapped.
“Did you really mean it when you said you wanted to make this work? See if it could? Or were you practicing your lying skills before you hit the campaign trail next year?” All the anger she’d bottled up throughout the week seeped beyond her control, and she poured another full shot of whiskey, hoping to keep herself in some semblance of calm. Vincent’s eyes slipped to the bottle and he took it from her.
“You don’t get to sit there and yell at me when you’ve spent the week in the bottle! You never told me you were a damn drunk!”
Natalie paused with the glass against her lips. “A drunk? I haven’t been drunk since I met you, though tonight, I might get damn close.”
“Sure, lie about that too. What else are you hiding from me?”
“Nothing, you asshole! I have not been drunk.”
His laugh was sharp and grated on her nerves. “So those nights when I talked to you, asked you questions and you agreed to change, and then the next day you acted as if we never spoke at all? You weren’t drunk those nights? Really?”
Natalie set the glass down. On second thought, she threw the whole thing into the water. Vincent blinked in surprise when she yanked the bottle from his hands and sent it over the railing too, along with his glass before he even had a chance to drink it.
“If I was a drunk, do you really think I would let that liquor go to waste?”
“Then explain to me why you act like you don’t remember our conversations.”
She sighed and gripped the railing. She’d hoped to avoid getting into the details of her accident so soon into their relationship, but if she was having conversations with him and not remembering, then there was no avoiding it. “During the accident, I suffered severe head trauma. It mostly affects my short-term memory, but some long-term,” she explained quietly. “There are days I have trouble remembering my childhood or recognizing friends—most of the time, actually.”
Vincent’s whole demeanor changed as he cursed under his breath and leaned on the railing beside her. “Why didn’t you tell me that a week ago?”
“It’s a sensitive subject.” She leaned on her arms and watched lightning bugs light up the garden. “I’m sorry for not telling you and for forgetting things. Just another lovely tidbit I picked up from the accident.”
“Along with your fear of cars.”
She was thinking of something else but nodded. “Yeah, that makes life difficult.”
His hand moved down the railing until it rested on hers. “I think I owe you an apology.”
“You think?” she agreed. “Do you really not like my piercings? Or my clothes?”
His laugh was accompanied by a grimace. “I didn’t mean it to come across so harshly. I happen to find your piercings extremely hot, as well as your sweatshirt and those damn shorty shorts.” He picked up her hand so he could hold it, running his thumb over her knuckles in a soothing manner. “This political crap isn’t new to me. I know what Mom and Dad went through with me running around being the bachelor billionaire. I nearly cost Dad the election a few times.”
“And you want him and everyone else to be proud of you,” she murmured. “I get it, I do.”
“I don’t think you do. I wasn’t mad at you this week, Natalie. I was mad at myself and the pressures already building. Billy’s been on my ass about if this blows up in our face, and suffice it to say, I’ve never handled stress well.”
Gently, he turned her so they faced each other. His dark chocolate eyes glimmered with a sudden hunger, and Natalie’s toes curled in response.
“I want to get to know you—the real you, not a woman constrained by what’s expected.”
“But you also need to win this election,” she reminded him on a sigh. “I have a feeling you’re not letting me see the real Vincent Cunningham either.”
“Someday soon, we’ll have to change that.” He drew her to his body and slipped an arm around her waist. Natalie’s breath caught as he leaned in close for a kiss, but instead of following through, he waited. “Forgive me for being an ass?”
Her lips curled as she nodded. “If you forgive me for neglecting to tell you about my head injury.”
He closed the distance between them, answering her with a gentle kiss. Her hands slid up his chest, his hard, muscled chest she longed to see without a shirt, and the kiss grew hotter as his tongue licked her lip. She responded by gliding hers along his, exploring the depths of his mouth as his hands fisted in her blouse. He pressed her against the railing, hugging her close while the water gurgled beneath them. She smirked, imagining falling over that railing and into the water. The distance wasn’t that far, and there were no rocks she could see. At most, they might wind up with bruised asses. Reaching back to her impulsive days before the accident, the adventurous side of her poking its head up out of the sand after so long, she turned them both and they fell over the railing and into the water. They came up sputtering, but she shrieked with laughter as Vincent stared at her in surprise, sitting in the middle of the shallow brook, soaked from head to toe. She was just as wet but couldn’t have cared less.
“Really?” he asked, and at first, she thought she’d misread him until a boyish grin stretched across his face and he splashed her, soaking her even more.
She clambered to her feet, shrieking with glee as she splashed him back, and they fell back into the water again as she tackled him. Yells reached them from the hotel and several faces stared down at them from the bridge and the edge of the brook.
“Ah, Billy,” Vincent called out as he helped Natalie to her feet.
“What are you two doing?” he asked as he leaned down and took Vincent’s arm. “Please tell me you’re drunk.”
“Sorry, not even close. The Mrs. fell in, and what type of husband would I be if I didn’t go in and fetch my bride?” The older couples smiled and leaned into each other as they observed the hopeful Congressman and his wife step out of the brook, unable to control their laughter. “Don’t worry, folks. Thankfully, we both know how to swim.”
More laughter met their words, and a hotel employee rushed towels to them from the nearby pool area. Vincent took one and draped it around Natalie’s shoulders.
“Thanks,” she whispered, and he leaned in, kissing her deeply before he drew back, letting her catch her breath.
He took a second towel and wrapped it over his shoulders before drawing her into a warm embrace. She rested her cheek against his chest, and the past week of awkwardness and annoyance seemed like a distant memory. They followed everyone into the hotel, and once they were no longer dripping wet, Vincent offered her his hand and motioned to the dance floor.
“So we can dry off faster,” he suggested.
Natalie ditched her towel and her heels and followed him willingly to the dance floor. The band played lively music for the rest of the evening, and lights burst around them as pictures were snapped of the happy newlyweds. This was how she pictured a wedding reception. Others joined them on the dance floor, but all too soon, the reception came to an end. Vincent and she wished everyone a good night before leaving the hall themselves and walking to the waiting car. She stopped dead, peering into the back seat.
“You’ll be fine,” Vincent promised in her ear. “I’m right here with you.”
She nodded and climbed into the car. The engine started and she flinched, but Vincent tucked her head gently against his shoulder.
“Just close your eyes and before you know it, we’ll be home.”
“Home,” she repeated.
“It probably doesn’t feel like it because of my shitty attitude.” He sighed and kissed the top of her head sweetly. The chill from the water and the air-conditioned hall disappeared and Natalie snuggled closer instinctively. “I’ll make it up to you.”
She yawned and nodded at the same time. “I like the sound of that.” The fingers on her left hand closed around the ring she was growing used to, but she sat up so fast, she nearly smacked her head into Vincent’s chin. “Shit! My ring—it must’ve fallen off in the water. Damn it!” Frantically, she looked around the car, hoping it fell somewhere in there, but Vincent grabbed her hands and chuckled. “I don’t find this funny. That thing probably cost a fortune and I screwed something else up.”
“It’s just a ring, Natalie. Besides, I was going to take you shopping for a new one.”
“You were?” she asked, wrinkling her brow. “Why?”
“It’s hard to pick out a ring for a woman I’m still getting to know,” he whispered and brushed the pad of this thumb over her lips. “We’ll go shopping for one soon.”
Not sure why she did it, but she bit down gently on his thumb. His eyes darkened as he grunted. A mischievousness filled her, but before they could do anything else, they were at the house and the moment was gone. Once inside, Vincent walked her upstairs to her bedroom and stopped, leaning against the doorframe.
“Tonight went well, I think,” she told him, tossing her heels behind her.
“Thanks to you.”
“Eh, I just knocked some sense into your stubborn head.”
“Exactly what I need,” he murmured and let his body hang forward, held up by his hands on the doorframe. “A good night kiss for your husband?”
“How can I say no?” Her lips barely caressed his. She pulled back and reached for the doorknob. “Night, Vincent.”
His shoulders sagged but he stepped back with a nod of his head. “Night, Natalie.”
She closed the door and rested her back against it, her heart racing and palms sweaty. “Holy shit, girl, talk about a rollercoaster of a ride.” She fell into bed grinning and dreamt of falling into Vincent’s arms and drifting away on a raft in the middle of the sea.
