5. Daire
5
DAIRE
A week later, I’m dressed in a pair of dress pants and button-down shirt. I’m even wearing my good shoes. I had every intention of showing up at the courthouse in jeans and a sweatshirt, but Rosie reminded me that there’s a chance we’ll be asked for photos. How ironic that I have to jump through hoops in order to establish my parental rights. Samuel. Sammy. I finally know his name. It’s not one I would have chosen, but somehow, it feels perfect.
Danielle put her husband’s name on the birth certificate, which is complicating matters. He’s certain he’s the father, but I know I am.
Me: Should I wear a tie?
I can’t believe I’m even texting Rosie about this, but she’s all I’ve got. I’ve yet to even mention the situation to my family. I don’t want my brothers trying to talk me out of this or my dad intervening to fix my problems for me. Sure, my solution is unconventional, but it’s going to work. It has to. I need to do this on my own, to prove to myself that I don’t need my dad and his money. I’m a dad now. I have to come up with my own solutions.
Rosie: I think so.
With a groan, I reach for the solid black one, then I get to work on knotting it. All my years of dressing up for hockey games are paying off.
Married.
I’m getting married today. It’s certainly not how I thought it would go. There’s nothing romantic about this, and even though I’ve never been in a serious relationship, I’m a bit of a romantic at heart. I’ve always thought about what it would be like to find that girl who’s my best friend. A woman I share everything with, laugh with and?—
Jesus. Things used to be like that with Rosie.
Our friendship ended messily, with way too much vitriol spewing from both our mouths. We’re both passionate people, and that doesn’t always bode well.
Over the past week, between getting the marriage license and dealing with house things, like a walk-through with the inspector, we’ve seen each other a lot. It’s strange being around her again. Strange, not because it’s bad, but because it’s easy. Like it used to be. Sometimes it’s all too easy for me to forget that we ever stopped being friends.
The house is eerily silent around me. A year ago, the place was always filled with people. We hosted parties every week. Now, Cree is too focused on wooing his mystery girl and Jude is too busy trying to get into Millie’s pants.
None of my friends or my roommates know anything about what’s going on with my life because none of them are even fucking around to talk to or answer my texts. Even though Cree and I are both on the hockey team, there’s no time to talk because he’s always disappearing.
In the bathroom, I fix my hair and spray on some cologne. I have no idea why I’m going through this much trouble. Rosie’s request isn’t a good enough reason. Cologne won’t help, even if photos of our courthouse ceremony are brought up in court. But it’s too late now.
I take the stairs slowly, each one creaking beneath me on my way down, and swipe my keys up on my way out. Until Rosie brought it up, I hadn’t even thought about my car situation. But she’s right. I need something family friendly.
Me?
Family friendly?
It’s laughable.
But I’ll do whatever it takes, and that means my beloved car will have to go. I could purchase a more practical option and keep the Porsche, but I don’t see the point. If I get the shared custody I want, there won’t be much time to enjoy it anyway.
I’m still in the driveway when another text message from Rosie pops up.
Rosie: I’m running late. I’ll meet you there.
Me: NO. I’m picking you up.
Rosie: Don’t be so stubborn. It makes more sense to meet there.
Rosie: Stop frowning at me. I know you are.
Even though we haven’t spoken in the past couple of years, she still knows me inside and out. It’s maddening that she hasn’t forgotten. Though I suppose I haven’t either when it comes to her.
Me: Fine. I’ll be counting how many minutes you’re late.
Rosie: I’d expect nothing less.
I blast my music on the way to the courthouse. My tie is strangling me, but I don’t dare loosen it. It’s shitty of me, but I wish I were drunk right now. This is the last thing I want to deal with. I act like I’m the one being coerced into this, which is unfair to Rosie. I need to get my head on straight.
Parked near the front of the building, I sit and wait for her to arrive.
Sixteen minutes and twenty-three seconds later, her Mercedes-Maybach SUV careens into the lot. With the way she drives, I’m not sure how she still has a license. She’s a menace to other drivers.
As she parks a few rows behind me, I climb out of my car, lock it, and lean against the passenger door to wait for her.
Fuck me.
My mouth goes dry and my heart just about leaps out of my chest.
Rosie’s gorgeous. There’s no denying that on any given today. But in this moment, she’s fucking radiant. Her dark hair is pulled back into some sort of low bun thing, with a few shorter pieces framing her face. Her lips are lined in a vibrant red, and her white dress makes her tan skin almost golden.
I can barely breathe as I take in the thin cutouts along the fabric at her waist that reveal just a hint of bare skin on each side. Without my permission, my eyes continue their perusal. The dress has a high slit—but not too high to be inappropriate. It’s not revealing—the top of the dress fully covers her breasts, and its sleeves probably help stave off the October chill—but god damn is it sexy.
With the way my cock strains against my pants, I send up a silent prayer to whatever god might be listening that Rosie doesn’t notice.
“Sorry,” she says, adjusting her dress. “I had to redo my eye makeup. I messed up my wing, and when I tried to clean it up, it just… well.” She waves a dismissive hand. “I had to start over.”
I latch on to one word from that spiel. “Wing?”
“My eyeliner wing.” She points to her face.
“Oh.” I nod like I have the slightest clue what she’s talking about.
“Ready?” she asks, smoothing a hand down her dress—her nails painted a bright red that matches her lips.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Laughing, she starts for the stairs. “You act like I’m the one dragging you here. Come on, Hendricks, let’s get hitched.” She crooks a finger for me to follow.
With my heart in my throat, I hurry to catch up with her. If I don’t, then I’m going to stare at her ass the whole way up the stairs to the main door.
Did I step into some fucked-up alternate universe this morning? It’s the only explanation for why I’m checking Rosie out.
In the vestibule, I scan the directory posted on the wall, my hand automatically falling to her waist. She moves away instantly, so I let my hand drop. Shit. I’m already fucking things up. Sure, we need to make this look real, but it doesn’t mean I get to touch her when no one is around.
“This way.” My voice is gruff, annoyed, though I’m irritated more at myself than her.
If I had been smart rather than thinking with my dick, I wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.
Once we’ve found the correct office, we check in and hand over all our paperwork.
Rosie loops her arm through mine and leans into me. “Isn’t he just so handsome?” she asks the bored receptionist, squeezing my cheek like my annoying aunt did when I was a boy.
“Mhm.” The woman hums. “Here you go.” She passes the papers back to me. “Go through those doors.” She points to a large set of wooden double doors at the end of the long hall. “There are a few couples ahead of you, so just sit and wait.”
“Thanks.” Rosie lets me go as we head toward our fate.
“Wait!” The voice is high pitched and one I don’t recognize.
Beside me, Rosie freezes, so I take her cue and stop too.
“Oh my God, no,” she groans.
In unison, we turn around and come face to face with her friend… Belinda? Becca? Something with a B, right?
“Bertie, what are you doing here?” she asks as the girl click-clacks down the hall to catch up.
“You need a witness!” She waves her hand wildly above her head as she reaches us. “And I volunteer as tribute!”
“Bertie.” Rosie hangs her head. “There are already witnesses here.”
“Yeah, but don’t you want your friend here?” She frowns, her eyes growing round as saucers.
I swear if the girl starts crying, I’m going to lose my shit.
“And what about pictures? You need someone to take photos! I know you plan on having a real wedding, but this is still technically your wedding day. If you don’t have pictures, you’ll regret it.”
Rosie sends me a look that’s pure apology. “You’re so right. Thank you.”
Bertie beams at the praise. “I’m so happy I made it in time. When I got back to our room and you were already gone, I worried I’d miss it.”
Rosie cringes, eyeing me in a way that makes it clear that she purposely left while her roommate was out.
I hold the door open for the ladies, and we find seats in the last row. There are two other couples ahead of us that haven’t started yet, as well as one standing in front of the officiant.
While we wait, nerves and adrenaline course through me with such ferocity that I can’t sit still.
Rosie puts her hand on my bouncing knee to settle it. “Babe,” she says, clearly trying not to gag on the word, “it’s cute that you’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” I grumble.
With her hand still on my knee, she leans over to Bertie and whispers something I can’t hear.
As the couple rushes by us, it hits me that I’m so out of it I didn’t even pay attention to their vows. I blow out a breath. With the next one, I will. The last thing I want to do is stumble over my words.
It doesn’t take long for the two couples ahead of us to finish up, and when it’s our turn, my heart beats so hard I can hear it in my ears. Why the hell am I freaking out so much? This isn’t even real. It’s temporary.
But it’s still a marriage. It’s still legal.
I hold Rosie’s hands in each of mine and survey her. Her pulse visibly flutters in her throat. She swallows, forcing a smile. I paste on one of my own.
We’re supposed to be happy and in love, I remind myself.
We each repeat the words when we’re supposed to. Then it’s time for rings.
“Oh, we don’t?—”
I clear my throat, interrupting her, and shove my hand into my pocket. Holding my breath, I pull out a ring for me and one for her as well. As she takes the thick silver band with a line of black through it that I got for myself, I don’t miss the way her fingers tremble.
“I give you this ring as a sign of my love and devotion.” I repeat the line I’ve been given, sliding the diamond eternity band onto her finger.
She swallows audibly, reaching for my hand. “I give you this ring as a sign of my love and devotion.” The band is warm from her hand as it settles on my finger.
“You may now kiss your bride.”
Kiss? Even as I watched the couples ahead of us, it never dawned on me that I would actually have to kiss her.
Rosie looks away.
It’s just a kiss. You’ve kissed plenty of girls.
But girls who weren’t Rosie—who weren’t my wife.
I cup her cheek, brushing my thumb against her chin, right beneath her full bottom lip. Leaning in, I lower my head. Her eyes flutter closed in preparation, her breath stuttering.
I swear time stands still as I seek out her mouth. My intent is to press a quick kiss to her lips, but a wave of heat washes through me the second our lips touch.
More. I need more.
Not just more; I need everything.
I add pressure to the kiss and lick the seam of her lips. Her mouth opens slightly beneath mine, and a tiny sound escapes. I quickly swallow it down, relishing the warmth of her so close. The softness of her lips. She puts her hands flat on my chest, fingers flexing like she wants to clutch the fabric but is holding herself back. I kiss her harder still, with a desperation that shouldn’t exist. Then she snaps, opening for me, letting me in. She kisses me back, nibbling on my bottom lip. Encouraging me to dive back in for more. I tangle my fingers in her hair so I can hold her where I want her, pulling it free from the bun. I don’t stop. I can’t stop, and I never want to.
A throat clears in the distance, but I pay it no mind.
“Excuse me?” The voice is male. Mostly unfamiliar.
I still don’t stop.
Selfishly, I want to get my fill now, because I won’t be kissing her again. I can’t.
“Hey!” The command is louder this time, followed by a shake of my shoulder.
Finally, I pull my lips from hers. Her red lipstick is smeared, half of it no doubt on my face, and her eyes are hazy.
“We better get out of here.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. When I pull it away, it’s streaked with red. I use my thumb to wipe at the lipstick smudged around her lips.
She lets me, still frozen from the kiss. If it weren’t for the slow blink of her eyes and flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat, I’d worry I accidentally kissed her to death.
“Sir, you need to move. I have more couples to marry.”
I glower at the guy. “I’m fixing her makeup. You can wait a minute.”
The exchange snaps Rosie out of her trance. “It’s okay,” she breathes, stepping back. “I can fix it in the car.”
“Are you sure?”
She nods.
With that, we rush from the room, Bertie struggling to keep up with us on the way to the parking lot.
“That was some kiss,” she says from behind us, her shoes echoing off the stone floors. “I don’t think Tommy has ever kissed me like that before. I’m definitely not taking him back after seeing that.”
She rambles on as we burst outside. I don’t know how Rosie feels, but I’m suffocating.
I kissed her and I liked it.
I more than liked it.
Worse yet, I want to do it again and I can’t. It’s Rosie.
“I’ll leave you kids to it.” Bertie adjusts her purse on her shoulder. It’s such a minute detail to notice, but I’m doing everything I can to keep my eyes off Rosie. “Have fun tonight!” She wiggles her fingers in a wave and heads toward her parked car. “I’ll send you the photos later, Ro!”
“Thank you,” Rosie calls after her, hands cupped around her mouth.
“What’s tonight?” I ask her dumbly.
She rolls her eyes. “Our wedding night.”
Fuck. I scrub a hand over my face. I hadn’t even thought about that. I stomp toward my car, pretending I’m not leaving my wife standing on the sidewalk.
“Where are you going?” she calls after me, panic edging her tone.
I look back over my shoulder to where she’s standing with her arms wrapped around her. “To get drunk.”
“Are you serious?” She storms after me, her heels clicking on the concrete. “I can’t go back to my dorm! You heard Bertie. It’s technically our wedding night. She’ll know something is up if I go back!”
I pull out my wallet and flick through my credit cards. I choose the one I want and shove it at her. “It has no limit. Get a hotel room. Buy a car. Go crazy. I don’t fucking care.”
“Daire!”
Without another glance her way, I get in my car and tear out of the lot like I have any chance of outrunning my demons. My brain is a whirlpool of spiraling thoughts about how I shouldn’t have chased so many girls. How I shouldn’t have gone after one of my professors. I’ve made poor decision after poor decision, and now I’m dragging someone else into my mess.
As I pull onto the road, I spare a brief look back at Rosie, at her stricken expression and her defeated posture, and guilt sinks like a stone in my stomach.
It’s okay. I’ll be drunk soon enough, and I’ll forget all about that look on her face.