You and I don’t like each other. Maybe we should get married. It might just solve some of our problems.
Having a clean image has always been important to me. What if it’s not just about crisp business suits and expensive haircuts? What if being a married man could be a part of that image? Even if the marriage is just for show.
I give my head a hard shake to rid myself of that thought. It’s crazy and Jules was right to shut me down the minute I suggested it.
She’d be the last woman I would even consider marrying anyway. Case in point, she just quit her job today—in the most dramatic fashion possible. She’s spontaneous. She’s impulsive. Her temper is explosive. She proved that yet again today with the way she stormed out of that restaurant.
Jules is definitely not Ms.-Right-For-Me.
Yet, I can’t help but remember that desperate look on her face when she spoke about getting shut out of her trust fund. I don’t know the specifics of her financial situation, but now that she’s jobless, I’m sure she needs her family money now more than ever.
Jules is a big girl. She can figure out her cashflow problems by herself. Not sure why a part of me wants to be her solution, though.
Up ahead, the train continues to chug along, not giving a fuck that it’s currently taking a shit on my plans for the rest of the day. With a sigh, I decide that I might as well do something productive while I wait. Remembering that I have a few items that have been sitting idly in my online shopping cart, I open the Amazon app on my phone.
As I’m scrolling past the endless limited-time deals and gift recommendations on the homepage, a ring catches my attention. It’s sterling silver with one hell of a cubic zirconia stone sitting between two smaller side stones. It’s priced at twenty percent off and it comes with two-hour shipping.
I chuckle to myself, imagining the deadly look Jules would give me if I were ever to present that ring to her. But my desperate life circumstances flash through my mind again. Is this marriage thingsucha crazy idea? After all, people get married for convenience all the time. Don’t they? And marrying Jules right now would certainly be convenient.
I double-check the purchases I’ve placed in my shopping cart. But right as I’m about to hit the ‘checkout’ button, I find myself navigating back to that stupid, cheap engagement ring on the homepage.
You and I don’t like each other. Maybe we should get married. It might just solve some of our problems.
I quit thinking. I quit relying on logic. Because the truth is, Jules and Ibothneed this.
Next thing I know, the engagement ring is in my cart and I’m pressing the ‘checkout’ button.
I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.
10
JULES
The afternoon passes by, and I pace my tiny hallway. Back and forth. Back and forth.
I quit my job. I quit my damn job.
Why am I so impulsive? Why didn’t I consider the damn consequences—homelessness and hunger, specifically—before storming out of that restaurant? Now that I’m unemployed, what the hell am I supposed to do?!
I try to figure out my next move. I keep waiting for the jigsaw pieces of some brilliant masterplan to pop into my brain. Instead, all I hear are Lincoln’s words from earlier.
You and I don’t like each other. Maybe we should get married. It might just solve some of our problems.
What a horrible idea. A horrible, horrible idea. Still I just can’t seem to shake it away.
Great-Grandma wants me to have a husband, and Lincoln would fit the bill. With his button-up shirts and his corporate vibes, he’d definitely meet Josephine the Terror’s criteria for releasing my trust fund.
And can I help him pull off his business deal? Ithinkso. I could totally be a married woman. I could be a wife…Right?
Growing up, I didn’t exactly have any role models of marital stability. I’ve certainly never been the relationship type. I don’t even know what that entails. But I’m sure I could just Google it.
Being married can’t be all that hard.
The setting sun pierces through my living room window, casting long shadows along the walls. The more I think about the situation at hand, the more it seems like the most viable option. For meandfor Lincoln.
“This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy.” I chew on my fingernail.
I need someone to talk me off this ledge before I jump. Grabbing my phone off the kitchen counter, I tap my mom’s name. The call goes straight to her voicemail. “Hello. You’ve reached Mei Sasaki. I’m at the office but unable to take your call at the moment. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”
