Matrimony | H.S.

Chapter 12

☆☆☆

ROSE

Being married to Harry Styles had turned out to have its own advantages—apart from the broody eye candy and the almost daily arm porn, I mean.

As much as I didn't care for the idea of having a driver take me to work, I didn't put up any fight when Harry forced me to go with Raymond in the mornings instead of walking through Central Park and getting myself into situations—his words, not mine—because I knew it was safer.

I still mumbled under my breath and put up the illusion of a fight to look more impressive and fearless in his eyes, which sounded stupid when I thought about it more, but I still did it.

Being the prickly, no-nonsense guy he was, with a hand on my back—literally—he pushed me all the way down from the apartment to the car where Raymond was waiting next to the passenger door, as if I'd run away from him like a kid if he wasn't keeping his hand on me. I was quite fine with the acting, because it kept his hand firmly on my back. So, joke's on him. I managed to mumble and mutter the entire way down in the elevator, and he didn't even utter a word.

There was something about his gruffness that I just loved. It would put some people off, it definitely had put me off, but the more I got to know him, the more I found it adorable.

As Raymond drove me to the coffee shop, I had an amused smile plastered on my face the whole time because Harry had looked so triumphant as he shut the car door in my face.

I chatted with Raymond to hide my giddiness and learned more about him. One particular subject that came up a few days into our morning rides was him trying the online dating scene for the first time in his life after divorcing his ex-wife, who he had caught cheating with one of his friends. Thank God they hadn't had kids. We were both happy about that, and the retelling of the horrible and awkward dates provided much amusement that early in the morning.

At the end of the week, we pretty much knew almost everything about each other, and it had stopped feeling like he was my driver and had turned into going to work with a friend. It also helped that he was the only person who knew about our fake marriage and never even mentioned what a weird thing it was.

There were plenty of times when I wanted to prod him about Harry, just little questions here and there, but asking him how long he'd been with Harry was as far as I'd gotten. He looked at me through the rearview mirror in a weird way. "Six years. He doesn't let a lot of people in, but once you get to know him, he isn't as bad as he looks."

I thought Harry indeed looked pretty great, but I was pretty sure Raymond wasn't talking about his appearance. He surely possessed a wealth of information on the man who was my husband, but it didn't feel right to pepper him with questions, so I chickened out.

After a few days, I had accepted that I would have to personally experience the ultimate joy of learning about my fake one true love who hated sharing any kind of personal information willingly unless you hounded him about it for quite a while.

One thing I'd learned was that he hated when I asked and answered questions on my own as if speaking for him. That was a good way to get him all frowny and talking on his own.

I didn't think he liked me much when I did that, but then again, I didn't think he liked me much most times. I would have liked to think he tolerated me, and I thought that was at least a good starting point.

I, on the other hand, was actually getting used to his Grinch-like ways. The day he gave me a warm and genuine smile, I was going to celebrate with cake.