Free The Marriage Contract by Tara Ahmed Page B

unlike me, while he turned his head towards me, giving me a small smile.
                  “You’re ridiculous,” I said. “I was just asking! I’m not…I’m not jealous. I mean, if I was jealous, that would mean that I feel something towards you, and I definitely, most definitely do not. That’s just ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. And, I’m going to go now, so have a pleasant rest of the day—“
                  He sighed. “Calm down. Geez, I never mentioned you were jealous. That seems insane, even to me. All I said was that she’s not a threat. She’s too old to be. I’ve been with enough girls, to know that a woman doesn’t need to feel attached to a man, to see another woman as a threat. You girls are like animals, you know…very territorial—“
                  “I’m not territorial,” I objected. “You’re over analyzing.”
                  He smiled, and then shrugged.
                  Huffing out a deep breath, I got out the car, closing the door, and walking around it. He rested an arm against the side of the open window, putting on a pair of sleek sun glasses, his brow raised in amusement.
                  “By the way,” he said. “I need to introduce you to my family tonight. They’ll probably see the paparazzi snapshots by tomorrow, and so I want them to meet you before that. So be ready by 5:30pm. See you later, sweetheart.”
                  I gaped at him, giving him a stunned stare, wanting to tell him that it’s too soon for me to meet anybody from his side. But before I could object, he gave me a final grin, and drove past the afternoon sky.
                  Marshmallow white clouds floated in the quilt of the pale blue heavens, as passersby   walked with their friends, pets, lovers, or by themselves, enjoying the warm breeze. I watched his car turn the corner, feeling annoyed that he felt the need to tell me about meeting his family on a last minute notice.
                  I wasn’t ready to meet anybody in regards to this fake marriage, but then again, this whole charade was what I signed up for.
                 
                  The shelter was brighter today than usual, as yellow, blue, and red streamers outlined the walls, like a birthday party decoration. It was a cafeteria style room, with rows and rows of off white tables, slightly stained with food marks at the edge. The place was filled with the usual people, cheering, their backs facing me, as Carla stood at the end of the room, holding a mike in her plump caramel hands.
                  “This is unbelievable,” she said, her voice booming through the black mike. “An anonymous donor has just sent us two million dollars! This is true kindness! Let’s all give another cheer for this miracle.”
                  My heart warmed, as I looked over everyone’s smiling faces, their eyes tearing from being told that they won’t have to live on the street. Carla’s bright eyes shined, as she wiped the falling drops from her chubby, brown cheeks. She glowed, standing in a yellow summer dress that rested a few inches below her knees, making her brown complexion appear milkier. The light from the windows streamed through, as Carla’s kind stare met mine. I had never seen her so happy before, as she ran towards me, swinging her long arms over my back, and squeezing me into a hug.
                  “Did you hear the good news,” she asked, pulling apart. “Rosefield won’t get closed! We’re saved! It’s all thanks to that generous human being. I was beginning to think that there weren’t many good folks left in this world, but my, did that phone call change my mind. It’s a miracle, isn’t it?”
                  I nodded- feeling my voice choke in my throat.
                  “That’s amazing,” I said, dropping my gaze to