Page 81 of Married in Michigan
“Aged out?” I echo, with a disbelieving bark of laughter.
“Yeah, she likes 'em younger—thirtyish. No more than thirty-five, no younger than twenty-five. Once they hit thirty-five, they’re out, and she replaces them. Where she finds them, I don’t know. Not an escort service or anything, I know that for sure because I hired a PI to check.”
I frown at him. “Why? Why would you want to know if your mom is using an escort service?”
“So I know what my political opponents may find out and try to use against me.” Another shrug. “Once I was sure it was nothing like that, I stopped looking. It’s just your average cougar affair bullshit, a rich old lady looking for hot young studs to make her feel desired because her husband is a rich old fart who never really gave a shit about her.”
I cackle in surprise. “Wow. That’s harsh.
He snorts a laugh. “It’s the truth.”
“And you don’t want that?”
He shudders. “Fuck no.” Vehement, disgusted. “Fuckno.”
“Then whatdoyou want?”
A long pause. “I don’t know anymore, Makayla. I really don’t. If you’d asked me three months ago, I’d have said that I want to stay a bachelor. Keep my dating life private, and maybe eventually settle down with someone. I would have said that if I ever did marry someone, it probably wouldn’t be love, but would be more than an arrangement. Just a marriage of…convenience, I guess. Someone I like, someone I tolerate, someone I’m at least moderately attracted to and can stand to be around. So far, I just haven’t found that person.” He sighs. “That’s not true— I really did like Monique a lot. She was beautiful, she was classy, she was smart.”
“But your mother.”
He sighs, and it’s a disgusted sound. “I was a coward about that. I should have fought it. I should have stood up to her better, made it more clear that her not-so low-key racism isn’t okay. It’s something I regret.”
“Thus, me.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know if that’s true anymore.” He turns onto his side to face me, folding his arm under his head. “Maybe that’s how it started. I mean, you’re not like,black, you know? But you’re also not Caucasian.”
I laugh, and it’s kind of bitter. “Oh, I know. Trust me, I know.”
He blinks at me. “Okay, so there’s a lot of pain in that statement.”
“Black mother, white father. But I grew up in a pretty rough part of Detroit, where I wasn’t black enough to be accepted. My hair is curly, but it’s not like my mom’s, or my friends’ hair. I’m dark, but not dark enough. Then, when we moved up here, I wasn’t white enough to be accepted either. And most of the kids I went to school with had known each other their whole lives, so I was always the outsider.” I sigh. “It was hard.”
“I can’t imagine.”
I shrug, a small roll of my shoulder. “It is what it is.” I wave at him. “Back to the important part of all this.”
“Which is what?”
“What you want. From me, from this marriage arrangement we’ve cooked up for ourselves.”
Paxton doesn’t respond for a long time. When he does, his voice is quiet and soft. “You were supposed to be a safe choice.” He pauses again. “This is the part I’m worried will piss you off. You were the safe choice. Someone I couldn’t see myself genuinely falling for.”
“Because I’m not the appropriate choice. I’m poor, biracial, uneducated, uncultured, unsophisticated.” I laugh. “I’m foul-mouthed, opinionated, stubborn, independent…”
“Beautiful, funny, easy to talk to, fun to be around,” Paxton continues where I trailed off. “Sexy, smart, insightful.” A brief pause, just a heartbeat. “Tempting. Intoxicating.”
“Intoxicating?” I ask. “What am I, cheap tequila?”
He doesn’t laugh at what I meant as a joke. “No, Makayla. You’re the rarest whiskey.” He swallows hard. “You were supposed to be the safe bet, easy to be fake married to, easy to let go when our marriage had served its purpose.”
“But?”
“But now…?” He touches my cheek, a big rough palm ghosting across my cheekbone; thumb brushing through my curls over my temple. “Now I don’t know anymore. There’s nothing safe or easy about you.”
“Well, I’m definitely not easy,” I say with a laugh.
“That’s not what I meant, Makayla.”