Page 41 of Arranged Control

His neighborhood’s outside of Manhattan. I don’t love that. I’ve been in the city all my life. It’s a good part of Brooklyn, though, and I like the artisanal coffee shops and the local vibe. Not really what I picture a gangster’s home turf might look like.

“I can’t tell if you’re happy or ready to scream,” he says as he lets me into a very nice brownstone. “Maybe a little bit of both?”

“I’m reserving my feelings for now.”

The entryway is simple but lovingly maintained. The floors are original, and there are lots of details from its initial construction. The bay windows still have that big, brown trim, but the walls have been scraped of wallpaper and coated with white.There’s a plant in one corner, a mirror on another, and a few boring landscapes hanging here and there. The furnishings are expensive and minimal, but a little barren.

“I’d give you the tour, but you seem to be finding everything perfectly fine on your own.”

I ignore him as I shuffle through the kitchen and the living area. “How much time do you spend here, exactly?”

“That’s an odd question.”

“Not really.” I run my fingers along the edge of a cabinet. They come back dusty. “Gross.”

“Ah, yes, sorry, I don’t clean every single corner of my place all the time. Don’t look behind the refrigerator. You might faint.”

I head upstairs. The master room is decent, if a little lacking in personality. The spare rooms are practically empty. One looks like a miniature gym, and another is an office. He’s got a huge desk, entirely made from wood, like something from the set ofMad Men. It’s actually a beautiful piece, but I don’t tell him that.

I find him waiting for me downstairs. He pours two glasses of wine and pushes one toward me. “Well? Final verdict?”

“It’s not the worst house I’ve ever seen.”

He sighs like he’s in total bliss. “The greatest compliment ever.”

“What do you want from me, exactly? We’re out in the middle of nowhere.”

“It’s Brooklyn, not Ohio.”

“And I’d rather die than live in Ohio.”

“How dare you insult the great Buckeye State.”

I take my wine and drink some. I know this whole exercise was a stupid show. I was always going to come live with him here, at least part-time. I’m pretending like the state of his house matters, but honestly, it really doesn’t.

I’m not that shallow.

I just don’t want him to know it.

It’s easier if he sees me as some spoiled bratva princess.

“I’ll give it a try. Three nights, starting next week.”

“You’re incredibly generous.”

“I’m trying to compromise, okay?”

“No, you’re right, and I appreciate that.” He holds up his glass. “Here’s to new beginnings and to Brooklyn.”

“Here’s to the real city.”

He laughs as we toast and drink.

We hangaround his place for a couple of hours before I get an Uber back home. It started out a little tense, but seeing his house and talking to him about his life there wasn’t really that bad. When we’re not actively hating each other, we get along pretty well.

I’m in a good mood when I get back to my apartment building. I’m optimistic and thinking maybe this whole marriage thing might work out after all. Sure, it hasn’t been easy. There wasa casual murder during the ceremony, and Seamus is making decisions about our life without talking to me about them first.

But hey, what marriage doesn’t have issues?