My husband is the one I want to be my everything, my whole world and every other clichéd analogy I can come up with. Every time I think about him and me outside of the house, my heart dies a little bit. Once we’re off this studio lot, I’ll never see him again unless I go completely fangirl and camp out at a premiere for a chance photo from behind the barricade.
If I have to be a fangirl, so be it.
I can’t imagine being that girl, but who knows. Would he treat me like a fan? Sign my poster, pose for a selfie and move on? Or would he have his security team come get me and have me walk the carpet as his cordial ex-wife. With an annulment I won’t be an ex, it’ll be as if our marriage never happened. I can change that by telling him we had sex, but the outcome isn’t favorable. Neither is being erased from history, and only having proof of our marriage available online or during next season’s show, reminding viewers of what happened in this season. Dwelling on what’s going to happen in two months will get me nowhere, fast. Taking life by the horns is what I need to do. That and meditate, and possibly walk around in my bikini more. I could bake a cake. Cake is always good.
The house is boring. We eat, sleep, lie in the sun, and go swimming. Twice a week we have competitions and once a day we go into the confession room and air our dirty laundry. Joshua says the best is yet to come, but I don’t see how. He kindly reminds me that I’m not a fan of the show and that I can never let my guard down because at any moment they can change the way the game is played. He says I’m unprepared. I say he’s too worried about winning. The only exciting thing that has happened lately is we named the computer monotone voice that comes on and tells us what to do. Her name is Linda, courtesy of Gary and him telling “her” to shut up because she reminds him of her mother. The name stuck even with Amanda mumbling something to the effect of how she’s not so eager to meet his mother now.
That’s something I envy about Millie and Amanda—they’re going to meet their in-laws, not that I’d expect Josh to introduce me to his parents, but I’d like for him to meet mine. My parents would like him, and not because of who he is or what he does, but because of what he means to me. They won’t, however, be entirely thrilled to find out about my impending annulment and I’m sure my mother will find some way to sue the show for fraud and whatnot. My mother loves to stir the pot, create drama where there doesn’t need to be any. If she had thought about it, she would have sued McDonald’s first for the “hot” coffee, but thankfully she missed the boat on that one.
Josh nestles in behind me, his arm resting on my stomach. From the outside we look like we’re in love. He stands with me, holds my hand, and steals kisses. When I go to bed, he follows. When I take too long in the bathroom before going to sleep, I’m always rewarded with his sexy ass in bed, reading a book. I like to take as long as possible just so I can burn that vision into my memory for the future. Most nights follow the same routine. If he’s reading, he watches me cross the room all while closing the book and setting it somewhere near the nightstand. He pulls the blankets back for me and beckons for me to crawl into his arms. We’ll make out until things get heavy and then he finds a way to get me onto my side so he can hold me.
This could be our last night in the red room, or the beginning of another week. It’s his favorite. Not once have we spent a week in the other room. When we have to switch he runs and puts our bags down before Gary or Cole can do it. It’s childish, and I love it. I want to be in the room where it all started.
It’s competition day. Today will be different from the others. Technically, today is our one-month anniversary, according to Linda, who keeps us apprised of information like this. Being without television, our cells phone, and the Internet has been tough, but it’s also been a blessing. I like the solitude that comes with being tech free, and I enjoy the time that we’ve all been able to get to know each other without the incessant ringing of a phone. Besides, I honestly don’t want to know what people are saying about me being Josh’s wife, or how the media is portraying Jules Maxwell, his ex. I don’t want to know if they feel sorry for her.
Today’s competition will be for a luxury item and master suite. You can win both, one, or nothing. I just want to win the master suite. The luxury items won’t do me very well. I mean, what am I going to do with a designer kitchen?
My fingers move along his arm, gliding up and down in a rhythmic pattern. Josh pulls me closer, kissing me just behind my ear. “Why are you awake?”
I shrug and try to move even closer to him, earning a groan. I know what I’m doing, and have no doubt that he knows as well. “It’s competition day, they make me nervous.”
“Why? We can beat them.”
“It’s not all about winning. They’re stressful. I hate that they’re live and people can see us mess up or th
ey will read into an expression we give each other. I feel like I have to be ‘on’ all the time. What if I want to drop the f-bomb or something?”
Joshua laughs, his chest vibrating against my back. “You saying fuck would be hilarious and the producers would probably let it go through if we weren’t delayed a few seconds. Lord knows Amanda cusses like a sailor.”
He sits up on his elbow and moves my face over enough to see him. “There’s a team of people in this tiny room monitoring everything during the live network show. Only the people who pay for After Midnight get to hear your pretty little mouth swear.”
“I don’t swear.”
“You fib. I’ve heard you in the bathroom.” He pushes the hair that has fallen out of my ponytail away from my face. “When you think no one can hear you, I can.”
I adjust slightly and stare down at my stalker. “Why are you lurking near my shower stall?”
Joshua blinks a few times as if he’s clearing something from his eyes. He knows he’s said something that he can’t back out of now, and I’m not going to let him.
“Tell me,” I plead with my hand resting on his cheek. I want him to trust me. Trust us. Day by day I work to take down his walls and I can see them crumble. He just needs to let me in. “It’s just you and me in this room, whisper it to me.”
When he leans forward, his stubble tickles my cheek. “Sometimes, I think about joining you,” he whispers just before pulling my earlobe into his mouth.
“Newlyweds, please go to the backyard.” Linda’s annoying voice echoes throughout, killing the moment we were about to share. Joshua jumps up, leaving me shocked and speechless, and unable to get a better answer or even respond. Right now, I want to drag him into the shower and see just how serious he was.
Our room is quiet, even with him in the corner getting his team clothes on for the day. The old me would avoid the elephant in the room, brush it under the rug, but not this Joey. When this game is over, I want him to remember me as a formidable companion and teammate. He needs to remember that I didn’t back down from any challenge or task put in front of me by him or this game.
“We’ll talk about what you just told me later,” I say, as I get out of bed and grab my clothes. Leaving the room is the last thing I want to do, but I need to let my words to seep in. “Let’s go win. We need that master suite.” I fight every urge I have to look back and see his expression.
As I enter the bathroom common area, giggling rings out from the stall. Millie steps in just after me and we both cover our mouths to stifle our own laughter.
“Oh my God,” I mouth as we make our way to the faucets. I quickly brush my teeth and run a comb through my hair, pulling it back up into a ponytail. If I’ve learned anything about this game, it’s not to take a shower until your comps are done for the day. Chances are they’ll include something gross and you’ll just end up in the shower again.
Stepping into a stall, I quickly change. I’m not shy about changing in front of her or Amanda, but with Gary in here there’s no way. Even with him and Amanda connecting, he still gives me a funky vibe. When I smack my head against the sidewall I make a mental note to knock Josh silly for having me vacate our room to change. Although, if I bring it up with him, he’ll remind me that I’m the one who left and that he never asked me to. He’s too literal sometimes.
“Newlyweds, your game begins in three minutes.”
Linda starts a countdown and I’m curious if this is for Amanda and Gary’s benefit. When I step out, Joshua is leaning against the counter with his ankles crossed. His arms are folded across his chest causing his biceps to bugle out. The white tank top he’s wearing makes me pray for a water competition today. I have two options: ignore him, or go to him and put this morning’s comment aside.