left it at home because I’m working here. I didn’t want to lose it or damage it with all the work I need to do.”
“I’d prefer you to wear it from now on.”
He didn’t turn back and look at me, but I did notice the band I’d bought him was on his finger.
“Of course,” I mumbled quietly before going to the kitchen to get my things.
The number of times Jack Hawthorne smiled: none.
Chapter Four
Jack
The car ride to her apartment was silent. After she said a quiet hello to Raymond after entering the car, neither of us said a word to each other. I didn’t have anything else to say, and she didn’t look like she had any strength left in her to string two words together. That saved us from trying to make small talk, which was something I didn’t do willingly anyway.
Sooner than I expected, we came to a stop in front of her old apartment building in the East Village. I offered my help, but she politely declined. After promising she wouldn’t take long, she quickly—as quickly as she could drag herself away, that is—exited the car. Thinking she’d take her time to pack no matter what she said, as every single female I’d known to that day would have done, I focused on answering some emails while I waited in the car with Raymond.
Twenty minutes later, just as I was about to send out my sixth email, I looked up from my phone and saw Rose coming out with just one small duffel bag. She’d also changed out of her paint-splattered clothes into blue jeans and a white t-shirt, and she looked freshly showered with her damp hair framing her face. If I wasn’t mistaken, she was favoring her right leg.
Before I could do anything, Raymond opened his door and rushed to help her. Following a brief push and pull between them, which I watched in confusion and unexpected amusement, Rose gave up and let Raymond carry her bag.
“Thank you,” she said quietly when he opened the door for her after putting it in the trunk.
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Hawthorne.”
I froze. With her hand on top of the open door, Rose froze as well.
“Uh, that’s really not necessary. Please call me Rose.”
As she finally got in and Raymond closed the door, I locked my phone and put it back into my pocket.
“Will that be enough?” I asked.
She glanced at me with a small frown. “Excuse me?”
I gestured to the back with my head.
She followed my gaze. “Oh, yes. I can’t do much tonight. I’ll pack everything tomorrow. I’m sorry if I took too long, but I had to jump in the shower because of all the paint.”
“It’s fine. I took care of some emails.”
She nodded and we fell silent for a few minutes until she spoke up again.
“That was a little weird for you too, right? It wasn’t just me.”
I quirked an eyebrow and waited for her to explain.
“Mrs. Hawthorne,” she whispered after a quick glance at Raymond. She put her right hand on the leather seat between us, leaning her upper body toward me as if she was sharing a secret. “That’s the first time I’ve been called that. It’s gonna take some getting used to. I’m Mrs. Hawthorne now.”
“Yes, you are,” I agreed curtly then looked out my window as she leaned away. In the reflection on the glass, I saw her lose the small smile that was playing on her lips and straighten up in her seat. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This whole fake marriage thing was going to be harder than I’d initially thought, especially since I seemed to be doing a bad job of it already.
I only looked at her again when Raymond stopped the car in front of my place on Central Park West. She glanced out the window and I watched her release a long breath.
“This is it?” she asked, peering back at me.
“Yes.”
I got out of the car. Rubbing my temple, I made it to Raymond’s side just as he opened her door and then walked to the back to get her bag. It seemed like the little fight she’d had in her back at the coffee shop had deflated during our car ride, and she just stared up at the building.
After smiling at my driver softly and thanking him when he held out her bag, she walked a few steps away from us.
“The usual time tomorrow, Mr. Hawthorne?” Raymond asked quietly, both our eyes