The Marriage Contract by Natasha Black (best novels for teenagers TXT) 📕

buried under a pillow, and the blankets were pulled up to her chin. Her eyes were barely visible in the shadow under the pillow from where I sat.

“I’m getting a little worried about you, Chloe,” I said.

“It’s fine,” she grumbled. “It hasn’t even been a whole twenty-four hours yet. I’ll get better.”

“Are you sure? You seem miserable.”

“I’m sure,” she said. “It’s probably one of those bugs that comes and goes. You should go on into work.”

“I don’t really want to leave you. What if you need help?”

“I’ll call you,” she said. “The bar is only a few minutes from here, and you can come to me if I need help. But I won’t. Because it’s fine.” A tired smile crossed her lips, and I frowned.

“You promise you’ll call if you need something?”

“Promise,” she said. “Pinky swear.”

One hand came out of the mound of blankets on the bed, sticking straight up in the air, pinky pointing up. I hooked it with my own and shook. Then the hand slowly descended back to the pit it came from. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m going to get out of here.”

As I stood up, the hand poked back out of the covers and waved, so I waved back. Then I turned off the main lamp, leaving the little soft yellow lamp on in the corner, and headed out to the living room. Chloe had made a bed on the couch for much of the day before, and I cleaned up the spot she had been in and made a new bed for her there in case she ventured into the living room.

When I got to work, Jordan waved from the bar when he saw me, and I waved back as I headed into the kitchen. My usual routine was to hang up my jacket, wash my hands and arms, grab my apron, and then open up my knife bag. I got as far as washing my hands before Jordan was poking his head in.

“Hey, man,” he said. He was grinning in a good-natured way, and I thanked my luck that at least I didn’t have to deal with Grumpy Jordan.

“Yo, what’s up?”

“Just checking in with you. You still feeling okay? How’s Chloe?” he asked.

“I’m good. Not feeling sick or running a fever or anything. Chloe feels like death, but getting a little better, I think. She’s all bundled up in bed,” I said. “Thanks for asking.”

“Before I go back to the bar,” Jordan said, pulling himself back into the room after initially starting to walk away, “Hannah had an idea. We were talking about how low-key your wedding was and how you guys deserved a reception if you wanted one. No pressure or anything, but I know all of us in the family want to celebrate you getting hitched since most of them weren’t there. We could do it at the bar in Astoria. Go home for a big party.”

“That sounds fun,” I said, finding myself to actually mean it. “You think Ava would do a theme for us?”

I laughed. Jordan did not.

“Yes,” he said, completely stone-faced. “Yes, she would. And it would be awesome.”

I laughed so hard I nearly doubled over, and Jordan joined me.

“Alright, I have to get dishes prepped for tonight, so unless you want to grab a knife and get to chopping, you had better leave me be,” I said.

“Just tell Chloe,” he said. “I’m sure she’d be down for it if she knew it was the Andersons throwing it at the old bar.”

“Maybe. I’ll run it by her.”

I got out of the bar a little early, thanks to a slower kitchen night and Jordan telling me to go ahead and bounce around midnight. I had prepped a bunch of the regular food, so all it needed was to be dropped in the fryer or heated in the stove or a pan for a few minutes before plating. The line cook was more than capable of running the kitchen for an hour or so. Besides, I had a sick wife to take care of.

It still felt super weird to think of her that way, but it was what it was. She was legally my wife. It just so happened to have started as a joke, but now it was feeling like so much more. I had lucked into the best relationship in my life.

Rolling into the parking lot, I saw Hannah’s car sitting next to the handicapped spots. Considering how late it was, it worried me that she would still be there, and I hustled up to the steps of the townhouse around twelve-fifteen. When I got to my door, I could hear Hannah inside talking, but she didn’t sound upset, so I quietly put the key in and opened up gently, in case she was on the phone and Chloe was asleep.

“Hey,” Hannah said, waving at me from the easy chair next to the couch when I got inside. I waved back, and a familiar hand rose above the back of the couch to wave at me, too.

“Hey, Hannah. How’s Chloe?”

“I’m fine,” Chloe said in a voice that screamed that she was most certainly not doing anything resembling being fine.

“I sincerely doubt that,” I said as I reached the couch and bent over to kiss her head. She wasn’t sweating at her hairline anymore, so that was good, but she looked miserable. Her skin had a distinctive greenish color about it that made her look not unlike Oscar the Grouch.

“She’s been doing a bit better,” Hannah said. “Got some ginger ale in her, but that’s about it. No stomach for food.”

“Ugh,” Chloe said, sticking her tongue out. “Food. Ick.”

Hannah stood and grabbed Chloe’s toes over the blanket and gave them a shake.

“I’m going to head home,” Hannah said. “This baby is about ready for her one in the morning feeding, and then I get a few hours’ sleep.”

“Okay,” Chloe said from her blanket mountain. “Love you, bye.”

“Love you, too, hon,” Hannah said and began walking toward