Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Caleb: So how long do you need us to stay married?
Emmersyn: Ugh . . . are you aware that it’s three in the morning my time?
Caleb: Midnight here, sorry. I just had questions and I of course forgot the time difference.
Emmersyn: I don’t know how long, maybe a few years? According to the trust, I get access to it if I’m twenty-five or get married—whatever happens first.
Caleb: That’s shitty.
Emmersyn: Tell me about it. I really don’t want to get married, but I don’t have that many options, do I?
Caleb: Move to San Diego. You can work here, save enough to attend college—maybe take some classes at the community college.
Emmersyn: I already thought about skipping college or working my way around. But that’s not the only expense I have to pay. The rest is more important—many people depend on it. Help me, please.
Caleb: So we stay together for at least seven years?
Emmersyn: Yes, but I promise to be a good wife.
Caleb: What does that even mean?
Emmersyn: I’m not sure, we’ll figure it out. Isn’t there like a manual? Daily meals, sex three times a week and not leaving the lid of the toilet seat up—that’s for you.
Caleb: Ha, I don’t think there’s a manual, but if we have to write it, I want sex three times a day.
Emmersyn: Whoa, that’s . . . I don’t know if I can do that. I mean I’ve never had sex so . . . Can someone do it that many times?
Caleb: You’re a virgin? That’s surprising.
Emmersyn: Not you too . . . Why does everyone think I’m always drunk, doing drugs and fucking any available body?
Caleb: Who else thinks you’re a troublemaker?
Emmersyn: Duncan, Grandma’s butler, Grandma, of course, and . . . the list is endless.
Caleb: Would it make you feel better if I told you my parents would agree with your grandmother?
Emmersyn: I wouldn’t be surprised. I’m a party animal. You’ll find me every weekend in my room blasting music, reading books, and consuming large amounts of popcorn and Buncha Crunch. So, so wild.
Caleb: Popcorn and Buncha Crunch . . . That’s practically a rager. Should I be worried about your wild lifestyle? Sounds like a real slippery slope to a sugar high and a book hangover.
Emmersyn: I’m living on the edge, Caleb. One more chapter, one more handful of Buncha Crunch, and I might just spiral out of control. It’s a wonder I haven’t ended up in rehab yet.
Caleb: And you still think I’d marry you?
Emmersyn: What if I promise sex four times a week?
Caleb: Twice a day and we have a deal.
Emmersyn: I ask again, is that even possible?
Caleb: Baby, I’ll teach you everything I know and make you want it more than twice. You’ll be begging for it.
Emmersyn: Huh, sounds like I’m getting a bargain out of this deal.
Caleb: Maybe I’m the one getting the bargain.
Emmersyn: Are you going to help me?
Caleb: Can I give you the answer on Sunday night when I arrive in Boston?
Emmersyn: Thank you for even considering it.