This is Us

I made my way down the aisle to a man I did not love, that I probably never would love and thought back over the past six months. This arrangement had been made to help my father further his business contacts. While it was my good fortune that the man, I was marrying was good-looking, we really did not know each other. His smile was friendly as I approached, surrounded by friends, family, and the media. Since both of us were busy with our own things, we had barely talked, much less spent anytime together to prepare for our wedding.

When I arrived at the altar, on my fathers’ arm, I did my best to smile up at the man that had raised be, before taking the hand of who was, in essence, a stranger. I would be taking his last name, would have to appear, in public, as a woman completely infatuated with her new husband, all for my father’s sake. Not that I hated my father. In fact, I loved my father greatly, which was exactly the reason I was willing to do something like this. My future husband lifted my veil and locked eyes with me. His name is Alex Sinclair.

And he definitely looked excellent in his black tuxedo. His posture was formal, perfect for the occasion, and his blonde hair had been pushed back, making his green eyes stand out even more as he watched me. Alex stood a few inches taller than me, but spent time taking care of himself, so he really did look nice. Truthfully, father had told me that my genetics mixed with Alex’s would produce some adorable grandchildren, despite the fact that I never intended to carry this man’s child. We were only required to marry for the business, not for love.

“Do you, Evie Brook, take this man, Alex Sinclair, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and health, to love, honor and obey, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself solely unto him for as long as you both shall live?” The officiant asked looking to me.

“I do.” I murmured, looking down at my feet.

“Do you, Alex Sinclair, take this woman, Evie Brooks, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in heath, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself solely unto her for as long as you both shall live?” He continued, turning towards the man holding my hands.

“I do.” Alex replied, and I could feel his thumbs rubbing the back of my hands.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” I heard, causing an internal sigh. “You may now kiss your bride.”

This was the part I had not been looking forward to. Since ours was a very public union, I had to kiss a practical stranger. Alex moved slowly, lifting my head with the hooked fingers of his left hand. When I met the deep blue of his eyes, he dipped his head and brushed his lips over mine in an extremely gentle kiss. It had been so light that it barely registered on my radar. Now that things were official, we still had the reception, and greeting guests as a happy and in love couple. Part of me wondered if it was something we could accomplish.

“I am surprised you agreed to this.” My now husband said, his hand on the small of my back. “After all, you barely know me.”

“My father is very important to me. I know he just wants me to be happy, and though I should probably put my foot down, I don’t want to hurt him.” I replied, leaning towards him slightly with a smile, though forced as our pictures were taken. “I love my father very much, so if doing something like marrying you will make him smile, then I will do so without hesitation.”

“Big words for a woman who focuses so little on her own value.” He replied as I tilted my head up to him. “Either way, I will remain loyal to our marriage. There are benefits to our wedding for me as well.”

It had been two weeks since then, and I barely saw my husband. Not that I minded, it let me continue my focus on my own passion, my painting. I was fortunate. Since Alex did not mind my creative side, he allowed me to turn one of the empty rooms in his house into something of an art studio. I had been so focused on the canvas I was currently working on that I apparently did not hear the door open. A throat cleared causing me to jump slightly and whirl around to find Alex standing there staring at me. What did he need? He never came in here.

“Your father recommended I check out your paintings.” Alex said, looking around the makeshift studio. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all?” I had unintentionally turned my answer into a question, sitting my palette down and wiping the paint on my apron. “Um, if you don’t mind, you didn’t have to listen to him. Why are you in here?”

“Haha, that was the response I expected. You prepare my meals every day, you clean the house, and then you cope yourself up in here, painting.” His eyes roamed the room before falling on me. “I was curious, and your father recommended just asking. So, here I am.”

“I see. Well, I can show you some of the competed works, then.” I replied, stepping forward slightly and nodding to one side of the room. “Since each piece is custom, I try to keep everything organized.”

I had been painting since I was a child. It was one of my many hobbies that I had honestly earned money for. He followed me over to the canvas that were complete and set to the side to dry before a coat of sealer was applied. For a moment, there was silence as he examined each piece, his head tilting as he studied the flow and shift of paint. I did not expect him to fully understand, or even appreciate the work I had put in, so I shifted before turning back to my other piece, not wanting to spend too much time away from it.

“Would your husband be able to commission a piece from you?” Alex asked, causing me to jump slightly and turn back to him. “For the office?”

My eyes widened as I watched him smile warmly at me. So many questions ran through my mind at his ask, like why or what purpose would that serve. Idly, I wondered if it was just a joke. He stepped forward and looked over my shoulder at the painting I was currently working on. This piece was a just-for-fun piece between customer pieces. I loved the feel of the brush in my hand, so often, I painted what I wanted to, just for the love of it. Alex smiled at the painting, his eyes softening, causing my heart to jump in my chest.

“Your paintings are brilliant. I see why your father encouraged you to do so regardless of him being in big business.” He continued, his gaze meeting mine from up close. “I can sense the love you put into each piece. It makes me wonder where you find the inspiration.”

“I…uhm…” I swallowed thickly, his eyes feeling intense as they looked into mine. “Since father was well-off, I was able to travel often. The world is my inspiration.”

“Well then, I will have to insure you continue to get to travel.” Alex replied, a smirk lifting the corner of his lips. “Since work and dealing with the press since our marriage, I haven’t had time to take you on a honeymoon yet. Is there anywhere you would like to go?”

Honestly, I had already travelled everywhere I had ever wanted to go, but the fact that he was asking made me tilt my head curiously. I did not expect a honeymoon, or even us to really ever talk. He had his own dreams, I had mine, and ours did not line up. The only reason we married was because of my father had aligned with the beliefs of Alex and his company. I was a painter. The sudden interest in my passion, in my dream, had me confused. We were not even required to speak to each other, so why was he doing this?

“Why?” I asked, finally able to get the words past my dry throat. “We’re not required to even see each other. We don’t even share a bed.”

“You’re right. We don’t. But you are living here too, and I’m not so stupid as to ignore the woman doing everything behind the scenes.” He replied, reaching out to stroke my cheek. “I take my promises seriously, and I did promise your father that I would make sure you were happy. That I would not take your passion from you.”

“Right…I would not mind making a piece for your company. Did you have something in mind?” I questioned, ignoring how good his hand on my cheek felt. “I normally don’t like to brag, but I can paint anything pretty easily.”

“Then, could you recreate one of our wedding photos?” Had I been holding anything at that point, it would have fell from my hands. “A lot of my employees want to know what you look like, Evie.”

I nodded slowly, still surprised by this development. Maybe it was just his attempt to remain friendly with me, but I respected and admired it, nonetheless. From there, we left the room together, down to the living room downstairs to select a photo for the painting. I picked up the album and held it out to him, fully prepared to retreat back to my studio until he selected the picture he wanted, but he grabbed my wrist, ignoring the photos in its hand. I almost dropped the album until his other hand grabbed it and he pulled me next to him on the sofa.

“It is our wedding, so we should pick the picture together, don’t you think?” He said, watching as my lips thinned out. “Listen, I know you don’t love me, and I don’t feel that way for you either, but I think we should at least be friends. For your father’s sake.”

He was right and I knew it. I nodded, pulling the album from his fingers and opening it to the first page. If I am to recreate one of these photos, I suppose it would make sense to pick one together. As we flipped through the album together, my eyes landed on one picture. I lifted my finger to it right as he did and our eyes turned to look at each other. Suddenly, I was laughing, as it had been one crazy development after another. My fingers moved to take the photo from the album and I smiled as I looked at it. It was Alex and I, with the arch in the background, gazing at each other.

“We have similar tastes. I’m glad.” Alex smiled as I looked over at him. “Since I took so much of your time, why don’t we order in this evening?”

“Are you sure?” I replied, with a smile. “I don’t mind cooking for someone that appreciates it.”

“I could not ask you to do such a thing.” He returned his green eyes sparkling. “I’ll call a chef friend of mine and request our meal. Is there anything you would like to eat?”

Three months later, I was applying the final coat of sealer to the wedding photo I had recreated for his office. We had become something of good friends since that night, actually taking our meals together, and talking often. He would come by on the evenings he did not work late to check the progress of our wedding painting. Tilting my head, I continued to apply the final coat as I wondered what he was up to this evening. Would he be home early, or would a business meeting hold him back a bit? Dinner was already prepared, which I needed to go check.

Putting my brush down, I turned while wiping my hands on my apron as I was wont to do. I walked towards the door, and took one last look at the painting over my shoulder. We looked so happy for a couple that had been arranged to marry, that I almost felt surprised by it. Shaking my head, I went down to the kitchen to be met with the smells of what I had prepared for dinner tonight. Since I spent a lot of time preparing meals for my father and younger brothers, I had learned a lot about cooking when I was young.

“It smells wonderful in here, Evie.” I turned to find Alex leaning against the door, arms over his chest, and a smile on his face. “Good evening.”

“Oh, you’re home. I was just putting on the finishing touches, if you want to go get comfortable.” I replied, smiling back before turning to plate the food. “The painting is almost complete.”

I did not hear him move away, nor did I hear him come closer until I felt his hand on my shoulder as he looked over it into the bubbling pot of gravy I made to eat with our dinner. Startled, the spoon fell from my fingertips to land in the pot with a splash, some landing on my hand. Crap, that burns! I let out a whimper before rushing over to the sink, turning the water on, and shoving my hand under it. I was not angry with him, more myself for my own fumble fingers. Sighing as the water ran over the burn, washing away the gravy, I watched as long fingers wrapped around my wrist.

“Sorry, Evie. I didn’t intend on startling you.” He said, looking down at my hand at the ugly red mark that pulsed painfully. “I just wanted to see what we were having tonight.”

“It’s alright. I was the one that dropped the spoon.” I replied, watching as he brought my hand to his lips, before placing a kiss to the mark. “Um…”

His eyes met mine as he continued to press light kisses to the burn, before pushing my hand back forward under the water. What is going on here? I tilted my head at his curious display of affection, not really used to him doing something like that. Why was he doing this? What purpose did it serve? Then I remembered how I had just been thinking of him, and my cheeks felt hot. I looked away from his burning gaze, down at the rushing water in the sink. With my free hand, I reached over to turn the water off and gently pulled my hand from his.

“Does it feel better?” Alex asked, causing me to jump slightly. “And after dinner, can I come take a look at the finished piece?”

“Of course.” To both I thought, keeping my head down.

Dinner that evening was awkward. It was nothing out of usual for him, as he just ate like normal, complimenting my talent for cooking, and telling me about his day at work. I found more interest in the décor in the room around us than actually talking about the painting or what I had done. After his little show in the kitchen, what was I supposed to say? What could I say? And that brought up questions of why I was thinking so much about it. Does that mean I have feelings for him, since I am thinking about it so much?

Once we finished eating and placing our dishes in the sink, I led the way back to the studio. I could feel his eyes on my back the entire time, making me nervous. When my fingers wrapped around the doorknob, I finally felt his gaze drop, and I sighed in something of relief, quietly so that he did not hear. Twisting the knob, I walked into my studio, over to where the painting still sat on the easel. I thought I looked amazing standing next to him, my blonde hair pulled up, my blue eyes sparkling as I stared at him in the painting. I hope I captured what he wanted.

“Beautiful.” He whispered, walking up behind me. “So very beautiful.”

I jumped slightly when I felt his hand on my waist, his body coming to stand next to mine. He was not looking at the painting. No, his eyes were focused solely on me. Where his hand rested felt hot through the old tee shirt I wore for painting, and feeling shy, I looked away. I simply could not bear the intensity of his eyes on me tonight, after what happened in the kitchen. I stepped forward, trying to draw attention to the portrait, but he stepped with me, a smirk on his lips. For the first time in the three months of our marriage, I could not understand his actions.

“Evie, listen…I know we only got married for the sake of your father and my company, but I really do feel a connection with you.” Alex spoke quietly, then, and I could feel his eyes on my head. “I want to get to know you better. I want to learn to love you. Could we try that?”

“I…I mean, we’re already married…” I whispered, my throat feeling tight with weird emotions I could not pin. “There’s not much more we can gain…”

“But there is.” He replied softly. “We can gain companionship, friendship, and love that will last from this lifetime into the next. So, what do you say?”

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