Mrs. Matched | Complete

Chapter Nine

I was sobbing into my breakfast as Christopher rubbed my back and brushed my hair off of my face. His hands were a little unsteady as he did so, like he was worried he might break me if he were too rough.

"So-- sor-- sorry," I tried to get the words out as my body wracked with sobs. So much for making an effort on my appearance today. "I ju-- ju-- just..."

"Please don't apologize." His face contorted as though he was in actual, physical pain. "You aren't hurting my feelings."

I'm not? I closed my eyes and focused on the rhythm of his hand rubbing circles on my back as I tried to steady my breathing. His other hand reached up to rest on my knee which had a surprisingly calming effect on me.

"Take your time," he reminded me, patting my knee slightly slower than my breaths. "Don't worry about me."

I focus my breathing in time with his hand, keeping my eyes closed and my head resting in my hands. Finally, I have a grasp on myself enough to ask him for a glass of water, which I drink within seconds of receiving it.

"I'm sorry." I smiled at him as I handed the glass back, trying to show him I was fine. I am not fine.

A smile flickered across his face but his eyes betrayed him. He doesn't believe me.

"Forgive me, Aubrey. But you don't have to be fine. It's okay." Christopher took the glass and walked it to the sink, giving me a chance to think about my next move.

"I just--" I took a deep breath before I continued. "I just want you to know that this--" I gestured to my face--"isn't because of you."

He stayed silent and his eyes were filled with tears when he turned to face me and forced a smile onto his face once more. He doesn't believe me now either.

"No, really." I reached for his hand, for some reason desperate to help him understand. "I just wasn't expecting this to happen so fast. I thought I'd have some time to figure out what I want or how to be married or..." I trailed off, not wanting to admit what was about to come out of my mouth. How to get out of it.

He was still and silent, waiting for me to finish before he responded.

I desperately wanted him to interrupt me and save me from saying what was on my mind, but the stubborn man just looked at me, waiting for me to get all the thoughts out. I wonder what he isn't telling me. No one gets so good at that without experience.

Finally, I say what is on my mind in one breath. "You seem like a really great guy but I don't know you and honestly this all happened so fast and one second I was allowed to date whoever I wanted and then the next second I'm married and I can't imagine a better pick than you on paper, but I just don't know you yet and I ... I just..."

I threw my hands up in the air and let them fall onto the table, hoping he would pick up that I just couldn't find the words to describe what I felt.

The seconds ticked by with the hands on the clock over the mantle. When Christopher finally spoke, his voice was soft and low.

"I never thought I'd get a parental match either. My brothers all found someone, and it was like they weren't even trying. No matter how hard I tried --" he looked at his hands-- "I couldn't find someone who wanted the same things as me. So when my parents said they wanted me out of the house and suggested they find me a match, I said yes. I'm--"

He sunk a little lower onto his knees and leaned on his arms before he finished. "I know a little about what it's like to feel like you didn't have a say."

He did have a point there. Of all the people in my life, he was probably the only person who had a hope of understanding exactly what I was feeling. I guess I might as well have some good come from this match. There's no harm in forging a friendship as long as I don't let him get too attached.

"I don't know if I'm anywhere close to what you hoped to find in a wife or not." I acknowledged the unspoken fear that hung in the air. "And you really haven't had any time to find out. My problem is that I'd hoped for more time, and I didn't get it. That's the hardest thing to accept, you know? I just don't feel ready. I feel like I needed more time to prepare myself for marriage."

I stood up off the chair and knelt down on the ground beside him so I could look directly into his eyes. "You seem like you've thought this whole marriage thing out. I mean look at this house! Every detail is planned and prepared with the express purpose of providing a beautiful life for a family. I didn't even have time to decide which clothes to wear when I came to meet you. My parents didn't--"

"Oh, my God," he gasped. "They didn't even tell you?"

I shook my head. There wasn't really anything else to say. I stared at him, searching his face for any sign that I'd upset him with this information, but I found none. He watched me, too, though I couldn't tell why.

After a few minutes kneeling on the cold, hard tiles of our kitchen, my knees were screaming out in pain. When I moved to get up, I felt Christopher's strong arm under my elbow. He looked at me, surveying me for one more second.

"I have dessert, if you are interested." He smiled like nothing had happened.

"I am always interested in dessert, yes." I smiled back, wiping the last of my tears from my cheek. "But first, I want to finish this."

I dumped a whole pile of icing sugar onto the already syrupy toast and shoved it into my mouth in one piece. If he's going to be stuck with me, even for a little while, he might as well know what he's getting himself into. I wasn't completely comfortable around him, but the thought of being friends with him was the easiest thing imaginable. And the truth was I was comfortable enough to not look attractive all the time. I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing, but it is the truth.

Christopher returned with some type of pudding just as I was finishing my coffee.

"It looks delicious." I picked up my spoon as soon as the bowl hit the table. "You really are quite the chef."

"Thank you," he laughed. "But it's actually from a box." He shuffled nervously, picking up my empty mug and carrying it back into the kitchen. By the time he returned, there couldn't have been more than a bite left in my bowl.

"Bless you," I said when Christopher passed me my mug filled to the brim with fresh coffee. I cradled the warm mug between my hands and took a sip. "I'm going to need a lot of this after packing for the last day and a half."

"I think that can be arranged. You do know how to use a coffee maker, right?"

"Yeah, I do." I smiled and put the mug back on the table. And suddenly it dawned on me. "Oh, no," I groaned.

"What?" his eyes were wide in alarm. "Did it burn you or something? Do you need help?"

"No, I'm fine." I couldn't help but chuckle at his worry. "I just realized I'd have to unpack."

"I can help you with that, if you want. Most of my stuff was unpacked for me. My parents wanted to come see the house before I moved in, I guess."

"Your parents sound pretty cool. I wish mine were like that."

"Yeah, I guess they are." There was a long pause between us as I sipped at my warm coffee and looked anywhere but Christopher's eyes.

"I can't believe they didn't tell you," he breathed.

"If you knew them, you probably wouldn't be so surprised."

There is another pause as I allow my eyes to meet his.

"So, what can I do to help?" It seemed like he was genuinely curious. "How can I make this easier for you?"

How am I supposed to respond to that?