Page 33 of For the Record

With a bite to my lip, I glanced out toward the hallway, checking to make sure it was clear before running straight for the bed. I lay on top, sinking into the white comforter, the mattress bending underneath my weight and cradling me like a mom holding her newborn. Marriage or not, this guy was going to be stuck with me until I could afford a Purple mattress. This was glorious.

The front door creaked, followed by heavy footsteps and some deep groaning. I sat straight up, reaching my hands out to fluff the creases I’d made. I took my shoes off, keeping a mental note to straighten them at the door later so I didn’t seem like a total mooch.

Back in the living room, Adam carried half of the carload in his arms—boxes on top of bags and my backpack on his back. He set down each luggage piece with grace, looking entirely adorable in his very gray house with my very yellow baggage.

I watched, making a show of the beads of sweat at his brow, as Adam single-handedly carried my things in with no complaints. All I was missing was popcorn and a remote so I could slow him down and rewatch him over and over again. On the next trip, he lifted his shirt up to wipe his forehead, and I knew immediately this must have been the guy Bonnie Tyler was singing about when she said she needed a hero. Here he was, in his living room, carrying a box full of heavy record player equipment as if it were nothing. I could see why she’d need a guy like this. I could get used to it. But she couldn’t have him. This one had my ring on his finger, so suck it, Bonnie.

During the last round, I gave the guy pity and grabbed a couple of the smaller boxes. Just enough to keep me from feeling entirely lazy. But not before I pulled my phone from my back pocket, discreetly lifting it to snap a quick picture of a sweaty Adam holding a box full of my “necessities.” I immediately went to text my best friend.

Layla, you should see the show being put on in front of me right now.

Layla: Since that is technically my brother-in-law, I shouldn’t say anything but…smash.

I wonder how much money I would make if I set up a live stream right now.

But I also want to keep it to myself.

Layla: It or him?

Both?

Layla: Careful now, you sound jealous.

Is it bad that I am? I think this ring is getting to me. I’m feeling very wife-like watching him carry all my things in.

Layla: Oh my gosh. This is exactly like LOTR.

Can you not?

Adam cleared his throat, pulling me back into the present. With everything moved in, spread across his spotless floor, he looked up at me, nodded toward the room, and tilted his head. Do you like it? I could practically hear it in that deep gravel.

I looked down the hall and back with a smile. I loved it. He had to know I did. The guy didn’t expect me as a guest, much less his wife, and yet he had the perfect room set up for this scenario.

“You’ve been holding out on me. I didn’t know you were this much of a caretaker. You have folded towels in the guest bathroom at the ready?” I threw a thumb over my shoulder.

His lips tipped up in amusement. “I like to take care of things that are mine.”

“Does that include me now?” I leaned in with clasped hands and batting eyelashes like the doting wife I was.

His eyes dropped to my lips and back to my eyes. “Do you want it to?”

Oh, great heavens. Yes. No. Adam was not allowed to flirt with me. Not while I was in this state. I was the flirter. He was the flirtee. That was how this always worked. But if he started acting like this, carrying in all my things, acting as though I was his, wearing my stupid fairy wings, what chance did I have of keeping myself intact?

My brain began to shut down, random words like mine and want to rolling in my brain like a tumbleweed in an otherwise very empty space. I wouldn’t have been surprised if my tongue lolled out of my mouth and my back bent over as I stared at the poor man in utter confusion.

“Too much?” he asked, a hint of vulnerability in there that made me feel a little bad about practically panting over him moments before.

I shook my head before placing a rogue tendril of hair behind my ear. “Not too much. Just not expected.”

He nodded along, as if to say he understood. “Do you want all of this in your room?”

It was a lot to squeeze in a medium-size space, but I felt more comfortable forcing it all into the guest room than taking over his entire house.

I nodded. “Yeah, that would be great. I’ll help.”

Adam grabbed two boxes as I picked up my record player, glancing around us. He padded down the hallway, and I smiled. Maybe this would work out.

“Myrtle said she likes it here. Just so you know,” I called down the hall toward him.