“I wasn’t thinking that at all,” I said. “Actually, I started thinking about all of the shipwrecks out on the lake that have never been found.”
“Are there a lot?”
“Hundreds. The most of any of the Great Lakes.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. And it makes me wonder, how well do you ever really know a person? Obviously, you and I have a unique arrangement. But do couples who are married for decades always have unexplored depths?”
“That’s really profound. I feel like an ass now, for assuming you were thinking up a dick joke.”
I laughed. “I’ve wondered sometimes if there isn’t something more honest about a one-night stand. You both want something—sex—and that honesty brings forth a weirdly meaningful connection.”
She kept staring at the lake as I turned off the exit. “I know exactly what you mean,” she said.
I stopped moving the conversation along from there and gripped her leg a little tighter.
Despite what I just said about the truth of a one-night stand, it was also true that I didn’t like thinking of Cat having a one-night stand with some guy she’d never see again. It didn’t sit right with me. It was unfair of me to think like that, but some irrational jealousy flared in me. I pushed it down.
We pulled into my garage, and I tried to blot those thoughts out of my mind. I didn’t know why I had even started thinking this.
We lingered in the car for a moment after I turned it off, and I knew both of us were thinking about something greater than ourselves. Deep down, I felt a connection with her that went back much further than just this past weekend.
It made no sense to me how that was possible, though.
I got us some cheese and crackers and wine and came upstairs to find Cat curled up on the couch with a blanket and some Netflix thriller on the big screen. She had taken out her contacts and put her pajamas on.
I had to smile because this seemed to me what couples who had been married three years—not three days—probably did: go out to a fancy dinner party then fall asleep in front of the TV.
After I took off my suit, and came out into the living room. “Come to bed, honey,” I said, stroking her hair.
She followed me into bed.
“Sorry I got tired,” she said, “The weekend’s catching up to me.”
“It’s alright, Kit Cat,” I said. “We should get some sleep. We’ve got a big day of fake marriage ahead of us tomorrow. I mean,real. Whatever.”
CHAPTER 14
DUSTIN
I bookedCat a flight back on Tuesday night since she had to work on Wednesday, and also reached out to an old college friend of mine, a lawyer, who worked in immigration.
Late January in Chicago wasn’t exactly prime sight-seeing, but Cat said she wanted to see the city so we breezed around for a bit in the morning.
She’d never been to Chicago but she said it reminded her of Buenos Aires, Argentina, except with taller buildings.
I asked her what she thought about the different areas of Chicago and she had much to say. We drove through Lower Whacker drive (creepy), Lake Shore Drive (prettiest street she’d ever been on) and around Wrigleyville (Dios mio, do they really need so many bars here?), before we stopped at a Greek place in Lakeview for brunch.
It was a bar called Three Nine One and when our food arrived we were both so ravenous it wasn’t until about five minutes later that one of us spoke again.
“I never thought bacon and eggs could be so outrageously satisfying,” she said.
“Well, that can happen when you work out as much as we did this morning.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Work out this morning? But we didn’t go to the gy... ohhh. I see what you did there.”
“I’m glad you’re starting to understand me.”
