Page 41 of Married in Michigan

I sigh and laugh at the same time. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

A pause, and then he shakes his head. “No. You’re learning.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Yeah, okay.”

He eyes me as we pull into the deBraun driveway. “You are. Right now.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Right now? In your half-million-dollar matching-numbers classic Porsche five thousand or whatever you call it?”

“1956 Porsche 356 Speedster,” he says, droll. “And yes, now, in this.”

“Isn’t driving a stick harder than an automatic?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Not really. A steeper learning curve, maybe, at first, but once you learn, you never really forget. And it makes driving an automatic easier.”

I shake my head. “I’m fine. It’s not like I’ll ever own a car.”

He tilts his head. “You could.”

I roll my eyes at him again. “Oh, right, because I’m going to stroll into a dealership and buy myself a car using my fake husband’s family’s money.”

Now it’s his turn to narrow his eyes at me. “I won’t be your fake husband—I’ll be yourrealhusband, it just won’t be a love match.”

I sit in silence—except for the purr of the engine. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do. But it’s important to remember that it may not be a real marriage in the sense you know it, where we fell in love and got engaged and planned a wedding and got married, but it will be a real marriage in every other way—you’ll legally be my wife, and I’ll be your husband. You’ll take my last name, get an equitable division of property upon divorce, meaning you’ll get a shitload from me out of the deal, because I’m going to conveniently forget to do a prenup.”

I frown at that. “Won’t your mom be all over that? Like, I would imagine she’ll have that drafted and ready to sign before I ever set foot in the church.”

He waves a hand. “I’ll handle it. Even if she does somehow force the issue, you have my solemn promise upon my honor and my life that I will make sure you’re set for life when we divorce.”

I sigh. “Part of me just wants to push all the details away and pretend this isn’t happening, just go with the flow and not think about anything.” I look at him, and the truth bubbles up out of me unbidden. “Truth is, I’m actually really scared.”

He doesn’t dismiss this as I expect him to. “I’m not going to say I’m exactlyscared,” he says slowly, “but I will admit to being a little…apprehensive.”

“What the hell doyouhave to be apprehensive about, Paxton? You’re the man. You’re the rich one, with the connected family, the education and the career and everything. I’m the woman, the one legally tying myself to a man I don’t know from Adam, for a vague promise of being ‘taken care of’ at some future date, at which point I will have a divorce on my record and another man’s name.” I rub my face, shuddering a sigh. “I’m the one risking everything. I quit my jobs, and if something goes wrong I’ll have no money, no jobs, no furniture, no apartment…and I’ll be stuck in Washington DC with no way home, and no home to go to.”

“You don’t have any family you could crash with?” he asks. “Not that you’ll need to, I’m just wondering.”

I shake my head. “Father has never been in the picture, grandparents have all long since passed. Only child, no aunts, no cousins. Just my mom, and living with her is…well, it’s not an option.”

He eyes me in silence for a long, long time. “I guess I didn’t realize that.”

“Like I said, Paxton, we don’t know anything about each other.”

He chuckles bitterly. “You have an advantage though—you can find out a lot about me with a quick Google search.” He puts on the parking brake, pushes open his door, and gets out. “Come on, now. Get behind the wheel. Time to learn how to drive.”

I blink at the sudden change of topics. “Uh, no?”

He grins. “You’ll enjoy it. Just try.”

I sigh. I have often wondered how much easier my life would be if I had a license and a car. I would never have imagined my first driving lesson would be in a car likethis, but hey, here I am.

I unbuckle, circle around the hood and slide behind the wheel. Buckle up. Grip the wheel in both hands and familiarize myself with the wheel, the gear shifter, and the three pedals.

Paxton settles in next to me, his eyes on me. “Okay, so. The steering wheel is pretty obvious, I hope.”

I give him a look. “Yes, Paxton, I am familiar with how a steering wheel works. I do know that much.”