“And some of us marry fake wives,” Beckett scowls back.
Suddenly, Selena looks like she’s going to cry.
She has no idea that Scarlett started as Beckett’s fake wife, too. Though I have to say, she made him a better man.
“Don’t listen to them,” Scarlett says, shuffling Selena away from us. “They are both horrible. We have each other.” She gives Selena a wink, and the tension in Selena's shoulders eases a little.
I look at Selena and wonder:Would I ever want to see her belly big with my child?
I shake off the image instantly. I would be a shit father. I don't want the responsibility or the noise. She, on the other hand, wants children. She told me she’d have a child with another man one day, and I instantly felt a surge of rage I had no right to feel.
I shouldn’t be this keyed up on my wedding day. I need to breathe through it.
“How many months along are you?” Selena asks Scarlett quietly.
“Seven months,” Scarlett says with a beatific smile. “She’s our fourth. We have two girls and a boy already.”
“She?” I ask, looking at Beckett. “Three girls?”
“Storm and I are outnumbered,” Beckett laughs.
“You’re fucked,” I say.
“She might be our last,” Scarlett says, rubbing her belly. Selena looks at her with a sweet, longing expression that terrifies me. “Then we’ll just let the two of you handle the next generation.”
“Griffin doesn’t want children,” Selena says. Her voice chokes up a little, but she remains polite.
At least she knows.
Beckett gives me an uncomfortable grin. Suddenly, I wish the whole tacky wedding were over. I walk up to Selena and put my hand around her waist, kissing her cheek.
She looks up at me and gives me a forced smile, as if she's trying to convince herself she'll be fine.
“Everything is going to be okay,” I assure her.
Her grimacing grin widens. She’s struggling to even pretend now. I suspect her dampening mood is because of my unwavering desire to remain child-free. Maybe when she’s enjoyed her freedom a little, she’ll see how much better three-martini lunches are than minivans and chicken nuggets. She’s young. She’ll learn. I need to ensure she gets that IUD immediately.
“We’re ready for you,” a woman with a bad nineties haircut says, opening a set of double doors. “Do you have the rings?”
I pull the Tiffany boxes out of my pocket. Her eyes widen as if she’s never seen real jewelry before.
Selena looks overwhelmed, staring at the hideously tacky altar.
I pull her in and kiss her neck, whispering in her ear, “We’ll have a real wedding soon. Something beautiful.”
She shakes her head. “It’s okay.” There’s the plastic grin again. “This isn’t really a marriage anyway.”
She holds her head up, marching forward.
I get it. She’s right. It’s not a real marriage. But it hits me then that it’s the only one I’m ever going to have. And fuck me, I really don’t like the idea of her having a husband after me.
Before I have time to worry more about it, the organ music plays—a tinny, recorded version of the Wedding March.
Scarlett walks down the aisle first, wearing a pale pink dress that accentuates her bump. She looks stunning. Then Selena walks toward me.
The ceremony is short and straightforward. We sign the documents. We are out in under twenty minutes.
Beckett looks at me and laughs as we exit into the daylight. “This is soyou, Griffin. You just don’t give a shit. Come on, let's go to Daniel and have a nice dinner at least. My treat.”
