“I don’t know.” I don’t have a reason because I can’t remember doing it. “I guess we got caught up in the moment, and we were too drunk to care or consider our actions.” Thinking about what I say next, I lead with the truth. “Some of the comments think you definitely left Huck for me now.”
In flip-out mode, she paces back and forth, much faster than before, sounding exasperated, threading her fingers into her hair manically as she snaps, “Of course they do. They’ll never believe I didn’t cheat on him. And all my guests and friends won’t believe me either.”
“If you and I know the truth, does it matter?” I couldn’t give a fuck what people say. I’ve never been, nor will I ever be, a cheater, and neither is Erika.
Holding her stomach, she covers her mouth with her other hand. “I feel sick,” she muffles. “What are we going to do, Leon?” Tears turn her eyes watery, and that’s all it takes to have me running to her and pulling her into a tight, reassuring hug.
“Don’t cry,” I beg as she nuzzles into my neck. “It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay. I promise. I will fix this.” I run my hand up and down her back in silent support.
If she wants an annulment, it will break my heart, but if it’s what she wants, then I will agree to it.
A few minutes later, her tears subside, and we just stand there, the two of us, clinging onto each other, as if protecting one another from the chaos we created through our spontaneous marriage.
After a while, she leans out of our hug and says words that make my pulse rise like it did when the Eagles won the Stanley Cup. “What if I don’t want you to fix it, Leon? What if we do this, like, for real, you and me? Stay married, that is?” She sounds unsure, as if it’s the worst suggestion in the world, when, in fact, victory, fire, and adrenaline course through me. If we stay married, there’d be no more chasing, no more questions or doubting one another. We’d have each other in the way we’ve both wanted.
“Then I would say, Good afternoon, Mrs. Hill, what would you like to order from Mickey D’s?”
“Mrs. Hill,” she says as if testing what that sounds like, then shakes her head, a soft smile twitching at the edges of her lips. “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”
“This is the craziest thingwe’veever done.” It could be a disaster or the best thing ever. “Maybe liquor did us a favor last night.”
“He’s a better wingman than you ever were, and he made sure our rings match.” She brings her hand between us and rests it on my chest, where she admires the glinting gold.
I place my hand over hers and say, “They’re perfect.” Understated, but I’m going to buy her the biggest, most obnoxious engagement ring money can buy to show everyone who she belongs to.
She’s mine.
To infinity.
I tell her, meaning every word, “I’m committed to you, Erika, and I’m in this for the long haul. I don’t do failure; it’s something I never plan for. You and I are just getting started, and together we will build a big, beautiful life together.” Then, I share how emotionally invested I am in making us work. “I know we’ll make mistakes along the way, but we’ll navigate through them because that’s who we are. I want this marriage, and I’m goingto give it my all. No matter what life throws our way, we’ll face it together.”
“Those are some big words.” Her cheeks flush; her eyes suddenly moist.
“I mean them, Erika.”
“I know you do.”
I lean in and capture her lips with mine. The lips I’ve become so familiar with over the last few days, and can’t get enough of. For someone who hated kissing before, I can’t get enough of it; I love kissing Erika and need to make up for lost time.
“What are we going to tell our families?” She nibbles on her bottom lip worriedly as she leans out of our kiss.
“I think we should tackle Ash first, then call everyone after that.” That’s a conversation I am yet to figure out.
Sorry, I didn’t ask for your permission to marry your sister, Ash. We sort of got very drunk and lost all sense of ourselves.Fuck. That’s never going to go down well.
“We should shower and get dressed first to make ourselves look somewhat presentable.” She looks down at the dress that hugs her perfect body. “I got married in a black bodycon dress.” The shock is evident in her tone.
“You did. I’m going to call you Wednesday fromThe Adams Familyfrom now on.”
That makes her chuckle, and I can tell she’s feeling so much better. “I’m still dressed.”
“Which means we didn’t consummate the marriage.” There’s nothing more I want to make this official.
“I’m so glad we didn’t.”
Confusion has me asking, “Why?”
“Because when we do, I want to remember everything.”
