Mrs. Matched | Complete

Chapter Eight

When I woke up the next morning, it took me more than a few seconds to realise where I was. Though my bed back in my old apartment was objectively less comfortable than the one I found myself in that morning, it was still unpleasant to open my eyes in that spare bedroom. The bed might be nicer, but everything is foreign here. 

I sat up in the bed and looked at the clock to see that it was already past nine in the morning. When I flipped my legs over the side of the bed, I found my slippers beside the bed right where I expected them to be. I didn’t remember putting them there in my tired haze late last night, but I was glad I did. 

A small niggling part of my brain wondered if, in fact, Christopher had done it. The more I thought about last night, the more I remembered chatting about our favourite everything and falling asleep on the couch. He had helped me up the stairs and then left me alone in my room. Did he sleep in the master? I wondered. Or did he also pick a spare bedroom? 

With my feet firmly in my slippers, I walked towards the window and drew back the pale blue curtains. Though I felt sad and scared to be in this new situation, the sunshine pouring through the window brought a smile to my face. I slid the window open and let the ocean air flow into the room. 

I was staring at the clouds floating through the sky when a small noise from downstairs drew me back to reality. My first morning in my new house. With my new husband. No matter how many times I let the words roll around in my head, it still felt weird. I wasn’t sure it would ever stop being weird. I just need to get through it. 

My tear stained pillowcase is proof that not everything is perfect here, but I have to make the best of it. I’m pretty sure my husband is a good person, so the situation isn’t as bad as it could have been. 

I dragged myself out of my thoughts at a second sound from downstairs. It was time to get ready for the day and face my new reality head on. 

Once I had showered and dressed, I followed the smell of French toast down the stairs and into our kitchen. 

“Oh, my gosh! You cook?” I slapped my hand over my mouth as soon as I said it, mortified. I cannot believe the things that are coming out of my mouth right now. 

“My talents are endless,” he replied, facing away from me while he focused on the stove. I could tell he was smiling by his voice, though he saved me from further embarrassment by not turning around. 

“Well, I knew you could make a mean sandwich after yesterday, but I had no idea you had French toast level skills.” 

He transferred some type of meat from a frying pan onto a plate before he continued. “How did you sleep?”

“Oh, uh… Fine,” I stammered. Why is this so hard? 

“Well, you can take a seat if you want. I heard you moving around up there and thought we could make this our first official date.” 

Yeah, if you can call it a date when you are already married.

He chuckled to himself. “I guess we might have to find something else to call it since we’re already married. But ‘date’ will do for now.”

“That sounds nice,” is all I can think to say. I wasn’t sure it really was nice to be going on a date with a man who clearly had a different goal for the relationship than I did. But the food smelled delicious, so at least the date wouldn’t be a total loss. 

He scurried around the kitchen collecting fruit, juice, and coffee to complete the delicious breakfast he had been cooking. Finally, he brought over the plate of sausages, eggs, and French toast, sitting them down on the table and taking his place in the chair across the table from me. 

I already had my mouth full of food before he spoke again. “So, I realized this morning that we never really got to talking about your family. You wanna tell me about them?”

An awkward silence greeted his question as I chewed and swallowed. “Did you go to waiter school or something?” I laughed at my own joke, but he didn’t seem to understand. Before he could ask me what I meant, I answered his unspoken question. “You know, when you are in a restaurant, and the waiter always manages to come ask you how things are going at precisely that moment when your mouth is full of food?”

He didn’t look like he understood the experience, so I tried to cut my losses by turning the conversation back to my family. “So, you wanted to know about my family. Okay.” I stuck a fork full of eggs in my mouth to buy some time.

 “Wait! You’ve never met my parents?” Not sure how that came out when what I was trying to say was ‘I’m an only child.’ His eyebrows made me feel like he was questioning my sanity. I can assure you that you aren’t the only one who feels that way right now, I thought. 

“No, I’ve never met your parents. When would I have met your parents?” Upon looking at my face he added. “How much say do you think I had in this match, exactly?” 

I put my fork down on my plate. How am I supposed to answer that? 

“More than I did.” I stared at my lap to avoid seeing if I had hurt him. “Hopefully, at least.” 

The silence between us expanded like a balloon, forcing the air out of my lungs. With the last of my breath, I squeezed out a few words. “What about your family? Are you close with them?” 

I risked looking up at him as I waited for his response. He looked more composed than I had seen him since I arrived. Weird. 

“Yeah, we’re pretty close. I have five brothers. All older.” He picked up a piece of banana with his fork and stabbed some toast before putting the fork into his mouth. 

“Wow. I can’t imagine having that many siblings.” I took a sip of my coffee, which burned my lips and throat as it descended. “Actually, I can’t really imagine having any siblings at all.” 

He wasn’t quite done chewing when he risked speaking again. “Really? You don’t have any siblings? Can I have your life?” 

I smiled a little at the thought. “On second thought, I don’t think I actually want to have five brothers.” 

He laughed. “Probably the best plan. Anyways, so I was the only one left without a wife and my parents decided it was time to be empty nesters, so they selected a match for me.” 

I desperately wanted to ask ‘did you want one?’ but instead I just nodded, pretending to understand his situation. 

“How old are you?” I asked the only question I could think of. 

He chewed and swallowed before responding that time. Thank goodness. “I’m thirty. I’ll be thirty-one on the twelfth of next month.” 

That’s not too bad. A lot of these parental matches you hear about in the news are a lot worse than five years apart. 

When I looked up to smile and reassure him, he was looking at me expectantly. 

“Aubrey?” 

“Yeah? What?” I must have missed something he said. 

“I asked how old you are.” 

“Twenty-five.” I managed to keep my cool as I finished the thought. “As of two days ago.” 

I looked down at my lap again, but I could practically hear him screaming, though he made no noise. I swallowed the lump in my throat. But he deserves to know, I thought to myself. 

“Twenty-five,” he breathed, though it was barely audible. There was a pause before he continued. “So you got your match--” 

“Exactly a minute after I reached the age of twenty-five. Yeah.” 

“Sorry.” 

It was only one word, and it wasn’t in any way romantic, but it sent me spiralling into a sea of relieved tears.