Mrs. Matched | Complete

Chapter Twenty-Four

That night was one of the worst nights of sleep I had ever had. I spent half of it tossing and turning over what would happen if I left the marriage and the other half over what would happen if I didn't.

One of those many moments of sleep was interrupted by the rude blaring of my alarm clock at seven in the morning. Who set that? Oh, right. I did.

I rolled out of bed and left the bird's nest in my hair alone as I stumbled down the stairs for some coffee. There was no way anything about the day was going to start until I found some coffee. And probably some water.

"Sleep well?" Chris asked from the corner of the kitchen. My heart leapt into my throat and a small scream left my lips.

I groaned. "Yeah, it was fine, just not enough." You know, that's a lie. When I got to the coffee maker, there was already a pot made. "Thanks for the wake up juice," I said, pouring a cup.

"I'll make another pot to fill your travel mug when you're done with this one."

How do you know me so well? Am I that easy to read?

"Aubrey? Is your bag in the hall?" It must have been the second or third time he asked me, but his face was relaxed and calm.

My mind was still racing with how he'd figured me out so fast, so he repeated himself again. "Bag? Hallway?"

"Sorry. It's still in my room on the dresser. You can go in and grab it if you want."

I sipped my still warm coffee and he ran up the stairs to collect my things for me. It was too early for breakfast so I grabbed an apple and sat down at the table nibbling on it while I waited for him to return.

Trying not to think about what was about to happen and the decisions I would have to make was impossible, so I moved to the living room to turn on the television as a distraction. There, in the place where my boxes of books used to live, was a giant pile of camping equipment.

Somehow, despite going to bed before me, Chris managed to pack sleeping bags and fire kits and a tent and something resembling a grill and at least three boxes I couldn't see inside of. I wasn't at all sure what it was all for, but it was nice to know someone knew what they were doing before we headed for the middle of the wilderness.

You know, for someone who says they love adventure, it's a little embarrassing you haven't tried this before.

My thoughts were rude when I got up too early in the morning, so I pivot to Chris, carrying a pile of bags. "You want some help with that?"

"Umm..." He looked at me and rubbed the back of his neck."I would, but I have to go outside to pack the car."

It was at that precise moment that I remembered what my hair looked like. And then I followed his eyes as he tried to keep them off of me but kept coming back. My whole body turned warm and puffy as I looked down to see my practically see through spaghetti strap camisole and very short very tight shorts.

"So maybe I'll pack the car while you go get ready?" He seemed entirely unbothered by my lack of attire but I couldn't go outside like that. I shouldn't have even come downstairs like this. What was I thinking?

"That okay?" He asked after several seconds. I was still sitting frozen on the couch like a deer in headlights.

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea."

"I'll get the car packed and make that new pot of coffee so we're ready to go when you are. Take your time."

I did the exact opposite of taking my time, spending every minute worrying that Christopher might see me. So much so that I wrapped myself in a gigantic robe in order to get to the bathroom without being seen.

Finally, I was back in my room and dressed in jeans and a sweater when I decided hiking probably meant I should pull my hair off my face, so I quickly secured it in a french braid down my back and headed downstairs where Chris was already waiting with three travel mugs filled with coffee.

"Ready to go?"

"Is this alright?" I spun around, trying to make a joke about what I wasn't wearing this morning.

"You look lovely. Very appropriate for the mountains."

"Thank you." I took one of the travel mugs from him and he chuckled, handing me a second one and following me out the door to the car.

The ride was accompanied by radio music at first, filling the awkward emptiness between us while neither one wanted to take the lead on the conversation. My thorough embarrassment this morning meant staring at the road was the safest outcome.

Chris tried to make conversation, throwing in questions here and there about food or books or our now favourite cooking competition show. And I answered.

But once we got too far out of town and the radio started cutting out, the silence that stretched between us grew like a souffle in the oven. And eventually, it was going to fall.

So I took a deep breath and stared right out the front window and poked the souffle. "So, what did you want to be when you grew up? Did you always want to be an architect?"

"I might have told you this before," he began.

He definitely had told me before, but my sweaty cold palms and warm face made me confused and I wanted an easy question.

"I wanted to be a lot of things as a kid. A vet, a firefighter, a professional figure skater, a sailor, a landscape engineer, and, like every kid, a garbage man."

"What is it about garbage disposal that seems so exciting as a kid and so not exciting as an adult?"

"I think it's the truck."

"Well, obviously. And the smell."

"A definite deterrent."

He let his eyes leave the road for a moment to flash me a smile that definitely belonged in a calendar. Maybe he could have been a firefighter after all.

"Did you grow up in the house your parents live in now?" he asked, turning back to the road.

"Yeah. I guess we didn't stay long enough for me to show you my room or the spot in the backyard where my sister and I tied up a tire as a swing before my parents made us take it down."

"Next time, maybe. My parents moved us when I was about ten, so there's some stories there, too. I'm sure my friends wasted no time telling you the embarrassing ones while my back was turned."

"They might have done that, yeah."

"Might have? You sure you aren't training to be a politician?"

"I never rule anything out."

"I'm glad to hear that."

I didn't mean it like that!