Cheryl laughed and fanned her face with her free hand. “I just can’t believe this is happening…”
“I can. Everything is exactly as it should be. So, let’s go get you married.”
She didn’t say,‘I love you.’She didn’t say,‘I’ll always be here for you.’But Cheryl knew she meant both things as she took her mother’s warm, twisted hand and held it like it was the last thing on earth. She moved onto the carpet that would take her to Patrick Normal and her future and thought of something. A new version of the mantra she’d repeated her whole life.
I can’t control whether things get better or worse, but thank you, God, for today.
“What?” her mother asked.
“Nothing, Mum.”
All around the church, faces were turning toward her. Cheryl felt herself extend up and outward, glowing brighter than she ever had before. Not for herself but for all of them—all the people she loved and who loved her right back.
“I adore you,” she said to Sharon Walker. “Let’s go get me married.”
The End
RETURN ALL
1
Mara stood shivering on the doorstep of the strange apartment. She tugged at her long grey skirt, trying to straighten it as though it wasn’t soaked through; as though she didn’t look entirely like a drowned rat. She stared at the unfamiliar door. Music thrummed behind it. Angry sounds, like a gang of murder hornets preparing to sting at once. She braced to knock, but before she could summon the courage, the door burst open, and a tall, dark-eyed man towered above her.
“You,” he said flatly. “About time.”
The man was shirtless, his body a living map of ink and scars. He gripped her forearm and steered her into his home. It was dark and musty, the grey carpet thick with dust. He dragged her in front of him and looked her right in the face. She forced a smile, trying to melt his icy façade. He looked away, his jaw set. “Go to the end. The last door on the right. Take off everything except your underwear and get under the covers.”
With a thrill of fear, Mara scurried up the hall, still in her wet sneakers, skirt, and everything else.
She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but the room was big and bland. The only furniture was an empty bookcase and abed with a grey duvet. Framed photos of spooky trees hung on the walls, but they looked like they’d come with the Airbnb.
“House,” she corrected herself. This was his house. She was in his home.
She sat on the bed, toeing off her shoes and struggling out of her skirt. ‘Except your underwear’ could have meant keeping on her bra, but Mara pulled hers off, folding an elbow over her bare breasts as though she had a reason to be modest. She crawled into bed and pulled the blankets over herself. It was like a balm to be in here, with the rain pattering outside. But that wasn’t really true, because soon the man would return.
She glanced at the open doorframe. When would he come? It could be in five minutes or half an hour. She shivered, pulling the duvet up to her chin. Her nipples were cold against the sheets, already hard and starting to tingle…
There was a rustling sound, and the man appeared, still shirtless and barefoot, holding a bottle of vodka.
“H-Hello,” Mara whispered, shocked, as she always was by how mean Derek could make himself look when he wanted to. His powerful body was taut as wire, his black eyes colder than steel. It made these fantasies so easy to engage with. The reality of the situation was lost in the intensity of his gaze. It was all too easy to imagine her husband was a criminal, maybe even a killer, and her lowlife family had sent her to appease him. The space between her legs began to thrum. “I’m sorry. Is this not what you wanted?”
Derek didn’t reply. He strode to the bed and pulled back the covers, devouring her with his eyes. “You’re the girl they sent?”
Mara hugged her breasts tighter. “I… yes.”
He ran his free hand along her leg, and her skin burned at his touch. She let out a cry he didn’t acknowledge.
“Know why you’re in my bed?”
“N-No.”
“Because I gave your old man a lot of money, and he hasn’t paid it back. Know what that means?”
She gaped up at him, smelling the liquor on his breath, braced for whatever pleasure or punishment might be coming next.
Derek’s black brows furrowed like arrows. “I asked you a question. Do you know what being here means?”
She shook her head, unable to even say ‘no.’
