Realistically, we can’t do anything tonight. If I beat him home, he’s been traveling longer than I have. “Very important but not urgent. It can wait till morning. Can I use your shower and sleep on your sofa?”
“Fuck, no. Use the shower, but I’m not letting you crash on the sofa. It’s two in the morning. We’ve slept together the last three nights. You’re in my bed. The bathroom is the first door on the left. Do you need anything else?”
“This is great, Wade. Thank you. We’ll talk in the morning.”
He disappears down the hall into his bedroom. I dart into the guest bathroom and wash off thousands of miles of dust. Unlike the past few days with tropical air coming in through the cabin window, Wade’s house is chilly, so I decide to sleep in my new sweatshirt. I beat him to bed, thump a pillow into submission, pull the comforter over myself, and close my eyes. I don’t hear Wade come to bed.
I wake up when a beam of sunlight hits my face. I immediately sit up, swinging my legs so I can plant my feet on the floor. Wade is standing in the doorway, holding two mugs.
“Coffee?”
“God, yes.”
“Black from what I remember of our honeymoon.”
“Speaking of, you’re going to want to sit.”
“Not a fan of taking orders since I left the navy, Melissa.”
“I didn’t tell you to sit down, Duck. I told you that you’re going to want to. Sit, stand, faint. All options are open to you.”
His brown eyes narrow. “Are you here to tell me that you’re pregnant? We fucked for three days straight, but we didn’t slip up on the condoms.”
“You are such an asshole!” I can’t believe the first thing out of his mouth is an accusation that I’m trying to baby-trap him. “You’ve known me for twenty years, Wade. Do you really think I’d pull something so low? Also, what makes you the sugar-daddy in this relationship? I’m one of the top chefs in Chicago. I can support myself, thank you very much.” I don’t hold back, but since I’m also not an idiot, I don’t say any of this until I take the mug from his hand and step back.
“Chill, Mel. I’m sorry I was a dick. I just want to know why the fuck you’re here instead of in Chicago. I assumed that you’d go home once our ship-board marriage was over.”
I take a gulp of my coffee. “Yeah. About that.”
I stalk to the living room, pull the envelope from my purse and hand it over.
Wade sets his coffee on the coffee table and flicks through the sheaf of papers, then starts again, reading each one in depth. “What the fuck? What the fuck! These papers look real, Melissa.”
“I know, Wade.”
“It says “Filed in the State of Florida”, Melissa.”
“I know, Wade.”
“It says “Copy”, and that the original will be mailed in four to six weeks.”
“I know, Wade!”
He sinks slowly to the sofa. “What the fuck?” he repeats.
I sit beside him. “I don’t know, Wade.” I take the papers from his hand and flip to the marriage application. “This is what we signed, but it was blank. I remember that part. I think that the purser or the captain filled everything else out from our cruise registration information.” We had to give them our names, ages, addresses and passport information when we booked.
“I knew that purser with the hearts in her eyes was way too happy,” Wade grumbles. “She knew exactly what she was doing.”
“Whatever reason she did it, it looks like our shipboard romance didn’t expire when we returned to port.”
“Why didn’t you just call me?”
“Would you have believed me, or would you have thought I was pranking you?”
“You totally would pull something like this. But you wouldn’t waste airfare to do it,” Wade says. He looks at his half empty coffee cup. “I need something stronger than this.”
I hand him my cup. “Splash of whiskey?”
