XVI. How to Get a Wife
1951 Words
Nina’s POV:
“New York,” I whisper to myself slightly regret accepting Matt’s proposal.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“It’s just I remember how it felt to be back in New York. It’s quite different from Sacramento.”
He gave me a small smile as if he could read my mind. “There will be fewer people where we are living.”
“Promise?”
“I promise,” he spoke softly as he intertwined his fingers with mine. I can feel his soft, warm lips on my hand.
After roughly forty-five minutes, we were out of the city and pulled up to a gate. Matt rolled down his window showing a man in a security outfit.
“Ah, hello, Mr. Greyson. I will open the gates for you,” he gave Matt an overly forced smile. Turning his head slightly, he looked at me as his brows furrowed together.
When I entered the community, several lovely buildings came into view. Unlike the inner city, there weren’t many people. Scanning my surroundings, there was a small park nearby along with a peaceful lake. The residents seem quite relaxed and not agitated like those in the city.
Matt stopped at a tall building and got out. He jogs towards my side and opens the door for me. How gentlemanly. While I got out, he handed a man his keys as I lifted a brow. “Dude, you’re handing a stranger your very nice car?”
He laughed at me while taking my hand, leading me into a lovely building. I had never walked into a building that looks so expensive. I looked around the room we entered, and some people were slightly bowing towards us or, more specifically, Matt.
An older but nice looking man came up. “Mr. Greyson. Welcome back.” He bows towards Matt and offers me a smile. I send an awkward smile in return as I squeeze Matt’s hand.
Matt nods at him, “Pleasure to be back.”
I looked at Matt, entirely muddled by the situation. What the heck? When we got into the elevator, there was a man, probably around my age, standing next to the buttons.
“Mr.Greyson. Pleasure seeing you again. Floor 65?” he spoke in a polite tone.
“Yes,” Matt firmly stated.
The guy peeked at me, and his brows scrunched together as his lips tightened. Matt narrowed his eyes at him, causing the guy to snap his face towards the elevator floor. What is going on? When I heard the soothing elevator song, I started waving my head and hum to the song. Matt looks at me and smiles in amusement. “So, this is where you live?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he responds in a composed manner.
“Wow. You should’ve told me two years ago. I would’ve come here right away.”
“Would you?” He tightened his lips and c****d a brow.
“Yeah, who wouldn’t want to live here? I have no shame; I wouldn’t mind mooching off my friend,” I teased, nudging his side slightly.
“You can mooch off of me anytime you want.” He gently squeezes my hand.
I stood there and tilted my head, “Matt?”
“Yeah, Short Stack?”
“Are you rich?”
“Yup.”
“Like really rich,” I emphasized.
His lips tighten and nod slowly, “Quite wealthy.”
A loud exasperated gasp left my throat, which I covered with my free hand, “And you never took me out to a fancy dinner?”
Really Nina? He owns a lovely apartment complex on the vibrant part of New York, and you’re worried about food?
“You want to go out to a fancy dinner?”
“No, I like any free food,” I responded, feeling a little hungry.
He chuckled slightly while shaking his head. Exiting the elevator, we walk down the beautiful hallway filled with impressive artwork. Matt stopped walking when we reached a large door; he punched in some pins.
“What’s the passcode?” I asked, after all, I don’t want to get locked out.
Matt cleared his throat, and his cheeks stained lightly pink. “0626,” he said quickly, but I caught the numbers.
“Hey! That’s similar to June 26, my birthday! Great, makes everything easier to remember,” I nodded in approval.
Matt nodded, scratching the back of his neck. “What a coincidence,” he mumbles and opens the door.
My eyes widened when I saw what was inside. Slowly, I walk into the living room and notice how everything was neat, with an order. I hated how his living room is larger than my family house.
The one thing that threw me off was the atmosphere; it feels like no one lives here. I sprinted towards the stupendous window but tripped in the process, falling on my side. I sat on the floor, holding my stinging ankle.
Hearing a muffled laugh, I shot my head towards the sound. “Very gentlemanly, Matt! Just laugh away!” I waved a hand in the air.
“You seriously just fell one step?”
“Well, gee! Who decided to put a single step there! That is ridiculous!” I threw my arms in the air and stood up.
Matt came over and kneeled in front of me. Placing both hands on my ankle, he squeezes it lightly. “Does it hurt?” he spoke gently as he scanned my ankle for injury.
“No,” I whispered.
He looked up and smiled, “That’s good,” he said, rubbing my ankle with his thumbs.
I bit my lips and pointed towards the window. Releasing a chuckle, he let go of my ankle. I resumed my actions and ran towards the window, slamming myself on it. My eyes roam outside, overlooking the stunning view of New York, which was quickly covered by my foggy breath.
“You’re rich!” I pressed my body against the overly cleansed window, smelling the leftover Windex.
He shook his head as he placed his jacket on the black couch. Sitting down, he crossed his muscular arms and stared at me. I walked over and flopped down next to him, still trying to catch up with my surroundings, after roughly thirty minutes of comfortable silence. I stood up and fixed my clothes. “Okay, where is my room?”
He c****d a brow, “What room? You will be staying with me in my room.”
“Not funny, Matt.”
Are you sure you don’t want to take up on his offer? Stop! Why do I keep thinking about these things?
We walked down the hallway, and I realized how vacant his place is, it did not feel like a home. Walls were empty, and there wasn’t a single sign of someone who lived here. Matt told me he lives alone, but I didn’t know how lonely it would feel.
“Long Bean?”
“Yeah, Short Stack?”
“We should take more photos together. Your place is way too empty. Do you know what it needs? A woman touched!”
“Where can I find one?” he said teasingly.
I stuck out my tongue at him as he placed an arm around my shoulder. “Do anything you like around here, sweetheart.”
I beamed him a smile while we continued walking to my new room. He opened the door, and the view immediately allured me. There was a large window, facing New York bridge. The bed was a large cover with blue and white sheets. There were several types of furniture, but the rest was empty. Opening another door, I noticed it was a walk-in closet.
“I thought I would leave it empty, so you can do whatever you want with the room,” Matt said, snapping me out of my trance.
“Wow,” I whisper to myself. I lay down on the bed. It felt like lying on an exceptionally soft cloud.
He flops down next to me. “Like it?”
I nod, feeling the silky sheets. “Love it.”
He turned to his side towards me, and I did the same. We laid there, staring at each other. “Are you going to make me pay rent? Because I’m sure I won’t be able to afford this room, especially with that view.”
Matt pats my head, “You can start paying rent when you find a job.”
“Yay!” I roll on top of him. “You’re the best.”
“I know,” he said, wrapping his arms around my hips.
“Now, let’s get some food,” I whisper into his ear.
Matt chuckled and sat up, running his fingers through his messy hair while I jumped on his back. He wrapped his arms around my legs and took me to the kitchen. “Go, peasant! Go!” I shouted as I wrapped my legs and arms around him. I snuggled my head onto his neck as he carried us towards the kitchen.
“You’re light. I need to feed you,” Matt said.
“Don’t regret what you say. I’m a black hole.”
His body shook lightly, attempting to suppress a laugh. “I guess I have to rack up my work hours to feed you.”
“You don’t have to; I’ll work too.”
Of course, I will work. Depending on a single salary is not a good thing, particularly with the high divorce rate in America.
“What if I want you to stay home to take care of our soccer team,” he hummed.
“Then you better rack up those hours! You bring home the bacon, and I’ll feed it to the ungrateful rugrats we call children,” I said jokingly.
I can hear his laughter echoing in the complex. “My queen, you need to get off if you want food.”
I nodded and got down to the ground, clapping my hands together. “Good peasant. Go do your duties and cook me food.” I waved towards the kitchen. He walked to the kitchen and pulled out some food, preparing it.
“Matt, is there anything you can’t do?”
He started humming, cutting the vegetables. “According to a certain Short Stack, I can’t fold clothes.”
Sitting on a chair, I placed my elbows on the counter, my chin on top of my hands. “No, you can’t wash your clothes, fold it, or properly put it away.”
“I can put it away.”
“Matt, you put pants and shirts in the same cabinet.”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it does!” I pound a fist on the counter. I don’t know when it started, but I’ve always folded my clothes neatly, and there must be an order for everything in the closet.
“Neat freak,” he muttered.
I rolled my eyes, “Tell me something else.”
He smirks, “Let’s see. I can’t think of anything. I’m perfect.”
I release a small snort. “You know, I find perfection boring.”
He bit his lips. “Okay, let me think,” he responds. I can hear the knife hitting the board. “Truthfully, I can’t handle kids,” he mumbled.
I send a snort in his direction. “I kind of know that already.”
“How?”
“Remember the time you visit my workplace?”
He tightens his lips and nods.
“You basically hid behind me.”
“Those kids have way too much energy!” He threw his arms in the air.
I start tapping my finger as I release a deep breath. “And you wanted a soccer team.” I shook my head, faking disappointment.
“I’m still getting them, darling,” he winks.
“I don’t want a man who can’t handle his children.”
“That’s why you, my future wife, is here.” He pointed a finger towards me.
I sat there, biting my cheeks as I fought the urge to smile—future wife. Matt is so stupid.
“Plus, I’m the only man who can handle your hole. I’m pretty sure no other man can handle you,” he said, steaming up the vegetables and taking out some chicken.
I burst out laughing, knowing Matt’s mind can be quite unsanitized. “That’s true. Okay. Here is the plan. You cook. I’ll clean it. You watch our dogs. I’ll watch our soccer team,” I said, wiggling my brows.
He looked at me, bit his lips, put the knife down, and leaned on the counter. “Promise?” he whispers gently.
“Throw in Movie Monday and Pizza Friday; then you got yourself a wife.” I placed out my pinky.
He shook his head and wrapped his smelly chicken pinky around mine. As our pinkies wrapped around each other, I couldn’t hold back the already forming smile. A small tingly feeling shot through my pinky as I feel my cheeks heating up. Unwrapping our pinkies, he resumes cutting the raw chicken.
Turning the chair, I looked out the window and released a deep breath, wondering what I had gotten myself into.
Is it really a good idea to move here with Matt?
- Writer
