Roses & Ruin

Chapter 101 (Lexi)

        "When I kept emphasizing the fact that this was a fake marriage, a temporary situation, it wasn't to enforce the thought on you. It was to remind myself. Lines blur when you like the person you're married to" I dryly spoke the last part.

"You keep saying 'like', but like how?" He used his hold on my arm to pull me a step closer. The proximity became immediately obvious to me. We haven't been this close in what felt like forever. No sex. We haven't even shared a bed. My body hummed at his nearness.

"Jezus, Rizzo, get a dictionary" I huffed, trying to walk past him. The damn closet might be a large walk-in, but not nearly large enough not to suffocate me when breaching a subject like this one. I don't do this kinda shit. The talking about my feelings thing.

Men barely entertained me, never mind intrigued me enough for me to form any sort of attachment to them. So talks like these, they just never happened. I never gave enough of a shit. All 20 and a half years of my life. Almost 21.

         "No sarcasm, no deflecting" Anthony followed after me. "I wanna know the Lexi definition of 'liking' because you aren't the easiest person to read if you haven't already noticed that, sweetheart."

We were in the bedroom now. I could see his side was slept on, but my side of the mattress was smoothed over aside from my pillow, which was sideways like maybe he'd been holding it in his sleep last night.

"I enjoy your company. I like you as a person. I don't just like what your cock can do to me, which I thoroughly enjoy as well by the way. I think you're the sexist man I know. I'm wildly attracted to you, and find you kind, and funny. It's more than I bargained for when I pursued you originally. After you physically fought for me, offered me this ring and your wedding promise...how could I say no to that? But liking you complicates this arrangement, because living with you thus far has been easier then it should be" I told him the truth of it.

        Anthony considered my words. As I'd been talking I saw a few different expressions flicker on his face throughout the half speech. I couldn't read them though. He's good at that. Not being readable when he doesn't wanna be.

It's only been however many weeks, but by living with Anthony and sharing our everyday life together I've learned a lot more about him. Silly things, like how he likes to fold a napkin in half and place the utensils on top of it while setting the table. I've noticed how he flips through channels quite frequently if something doesn't capture his full attention right away.

Or how he looks at me a lot when he thinks I'm not paying attention. He watches me read, and he watches out for my reactions when we watch a movie together. I'm not sure why he does it, but I like that he does.

        I've noticed how a clean house is Anthony's own form of control. How he needs that to be comfortable and not restless. It's why I've made the effort to do things like put my shoes away instead of kicking them off by the door and leaving them there.

When I have insomnia he senses my absence from the bed. He'll come get me and run his fingers through my hair, gently massaging my scalp until I eventually drift off to sleep. I never had that. The constant warm body beside me in bed. I thought I'd feel uncomfortable and over crowded, but I don't.

The last person I shared a bed with was my mother. It was always cheaper to get one bed if we went somewhere and splurged for a hotel or something. Or when we'd read together and doze off sometimes.

        When I had insomnia back then my mom could sense it too. She'd get up and come to my room with a cup of tea. She'd talk softly to me about all kinds of stories until I was tired enough to fall asleep. Or I'd stay awake, but she'd eventually drift off from her own tiredness.

I always appreciated the effort. The love language we shared.

Like cutting me fruit without asking me if I wanted any. Coming to my room when she felt my restless spirit. When my mother would come home with a happy meal because she knew I loved eating those damn things, but never had the appetite for the adult sized meals. At least back then.

We'd give out the plastic toys that came with the happy meal sometimes to women's shelters who usually had children with them, or randomly on the street to surprise a kid going about their regular day. That's my mother. That's who she was.

Random acts of kindness, silly singing, and always hard working.

I find some of those qualities in my husband. My mother would have done anything to protect me, even if it meant harming herself. Anthony's been that way since the first time my life was in danger, during the Irish attacks or when challenging my brothers and father when they were about to marry me off to someone who'd hurt me physically.

When he listens to my interests and make them his interests too, so that we might have something that we share. Mom would do that. Back then I was less aware of social issues, but I always had something I was passionate about.

We'd learn from each other. And now, with Anthony, he says I teach him things he'd never known or even thought to know. All those things, they make me like Anthony a lot. When he asks me 'what's Lexi's version of 'liking' that's what I mean.

I trust him. It's not something I've said to many people. It's not something I give out so easily.

"Living with you is surprisingly easy, I know. It's what startled me the other day. When I realized that" Anthony responded to what I'd said last. "I like everything about you, Lex. I guess that's the problem" he almost chuckled at himself in the last part. Liking me is the problem. Not something people often face. It's usually meant to be a good thing.

"So...to work on our marriage we have to learn to like each other less?" I asked him with an arched brow. His face went flat. "It sounds ridiculous when you say it like that" he shoved his fingers through his mop of chocolate waves. "It does, doesn't it?"