I shrugged, my curiosity winning out over my logic. “I can’t get past the idea that it’s deceptive, Bishop. It’s probably insurance fraud.”
“Surprisingly, according to the definition by the FBI, it’s not,” he said. “Do you know who commits the most insurance fraud in this country?” I shook my head as an answer. “Doctors. The little bit of money the insurance would payout for your tests is a penny in a full bucket of what they pay out to doctors filing fraudulent claims.”
“That still doesn’t make it right, Bishop,” I insisted.
He held up both hands in surrender and went back to staring into the fire.
“I mean, how would it even work?” I asked, not sure I needed him to answer as much as I needed not to have it in my head anymore. I needed to work it out in the air by the fire.
“It’s not hard. We apply for a license, get married by a judge, and file it. My district allows me to put you on the insurance immediately.”
“I mean the marriage. How would that work? It’s not like I can live over there and you over here,” I said, pointing at his house.
“True, that wouldn’t look like we were newlyweds. I suppose we’d have to live together for a while.”
“In your house?”
“I do have more bedrooms,” he said. “You can have a guest room.”
“Or the basement,” I said casually, but my voice wavered at the end.
He reached out and squeezed my hand. “You can’t stay in the basement here with your leg the way it is. If storms are predicted, and you can’t get down my stairs, we can always hang out at your apartment for the night.”
I squeezed his hand back in acknowledgment of his understanding, which was something I didn’t get a lot in my life. “I mean, marriage would put a huge crimp in your social life, Bishop. You wouldn’t be able to date or anything.”
“Damn,” he said, shaking his head with serious vigor. “I’ll have to clear my social calendar. Think of all those calls I’m going to have to make and all those disappointed women who will have their hearts broken. It’s going to take days.”
I snorted and crossed my arms over my chest. “Smartass.”
“I understand that this is a small town, and if we get married, we’ll have to live as such.”
“A fast marriage in this town only means one thing to everyone. Can you handle that?” I asked, angling my head toward him.
“I know the truth. You aren’t pregnant. It won’t take anyone else long to figure that out, too. I’m not worried about it. People do fall in love and get married quickly for other reasons.”
“They do?” I asked, surprised. “I don’t have a lot of experience with falling in love. Haylee and Brady took nearly seven years to kiss the first time.”
He laughed, and I was glad it didn’t sound so tight this time. “That’s the exact opposite of instantly falling in love. I used to work with a guy in my last district who took the elementary school secretary out on a first date, and they were never apart again. He took her home, she stayed, and they married the next week. They’re still married twenty years later.”
“Those cases are rare, though.”
“They are, but not unheard of when it comes to love. Besides, why are you worried about what everyone else is going to think?”
I laughed and rolled my eyes to the sky. “You didn’t grow up here, Bishop. You don’t understand the nuances of having been born, raised, injured, and running a business in the same town. Certain expectations are had for the hometown girls.”
“Courtship and marriage to a hometown boy?” I tipped my head in agreement. “Screw that antiquated idea, Amber. You’re a modern woman who can do whatever the hell she wants without worrying about what the knitting club or ladies’ aid groups are tutting about.”
“Tutting about?” I asked, laughing. He lowered his brow at me, and I sighed. “I know what you mean. You’re right, but it’s hard when you grew up in that environment. Even my mother still believes I’ll marry a nice boy from my class,” I said, using finger quotes.
“Maybe she’d be happy with a nice boy who lives next door,” he said with a wink. “Then again, I’m not a boy. I’m a nice man, so I suppose that’s going to be harder for her to accept. Your dad will probably be an even harder sell.”
I shook my head, the motion jilted and twitchy. “Understand that when I do get married, whenever that may be to whoever that may be, my parents will rejoice and be glad. I’ll no longer be their problem. They won’t be faced with the constant guilt of this,” I said, motioning at my leg stretched out toward the fire. “They’ll be happy to pass me off to the first guy who is remotely interested in taking care of me, so they no longer have to do the job.”
He stood and knelt next to my chair, hugging me. “I’m sorry you have to live like that, tart. You don’t deserve that kind of treatment. Nothing that happened was your fault.” His arms squeezed me tighter, and I put mine around him unconsciously, needing the closeness of someone to comfort me. I was worn out. Being strong all the time was hard work. I just laid there on his shoulder and let him comfort me in a way that I usually found hard to accept. Maybe that was because the comfort came from someone with pure intentions.
I sighed, my eyes heavy as they stared into the fire. “I know it’s not their fault either. People deal with trauma in different ways.”
He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear then sat back down in his chair. “That’s true, sweetart, but it’s still not right.”
I cleared
