Chapter Seven
Eric
I t’s the day after our big decision, and I’m in the passenger seat of D’s car, with my chair pushed back all the way so my foot has space while he makes the four-ish-hour drive from LA to Las Vegas so we can get married.
It’s strange how easily that thought floats through my head. What am I doing today? Oh, just getting married to my male best friend, is all. How about you?
“What are you smiling about?” Donovan asks.
“Oh, was I smiling? I have no idea why. I guess I’m just a happy guy.”
He chuckles. “You are. It’s one of my favorite things about you. It’s impossible to be in a bad mood around you. When we were kids and I’d be stuck in bed for days or weeks on end, no matter how miserable I felt, you could always make me laugh.”
“One of my many talents,” I joke. Really, though, his words make me feel like I’m flying, like I’m a superhero or some shit. I had the power to make him feel better, and that’s an incredible thing.
“It is.” Donovan tosses a grin in my direction, then pays attention to the I-15 again.
“Listen…are you sure you’re okay with this?
I am. I’m not having second thoughts. I like the idea of being able to do this for you, but I also want to make sure I didn’t push you into anything.
I’m worried you’re getting married just for me, and I get that it’s a big deal. ”
“I’m not.” The words rush out of my mouth faster than intended. The more I’ve thought about it, the more down I am with this. “We can both admit it’s a wild decision to come to. Most people wouldn’t be doing it.”
“You can say that again.”
“But it’s also kinda us, right? We’ve always been different, and we’ve always been willing to do anything for each other.
It makes sense you’d want to make sure I’m okay, and honestly, now that it’s happening, it is a load off my mind.
My ankle has shown me how easily anything can happen, and I don’t…
you know, after my dad and you, it’s smart not to take any chances. I don’t want to put that on my mom.”
He reaches over and squeezes my thigh. “Nothing is going to happen.” And realistically it probably won’t, but the whole reason we’re doing this is because it could.
“Plus, how many people can say their best friend was willing to marry them for an insurance policy? Now I’ll know what it’s like to be married.”
“What if you meet someone and want to get real married?”
I huff out a breath. “That’s never going to happen.”
“You can’t know that.”
“But you know you’re not going to want to be serious about someone again?”
Donovan sighs. “Fine, but if you do meet someone, I’ll divorce you whenever you want.”
“Deal. And I’ll divorce you if you meet someone too.”
It strikes me how ridiculous this conversation is. The second I let out laughter, Donovan is doing it too, likely coming to the same realization.
“We’re so weird,” he says when we settle down.
“I think we’re perfect.”
He takes his gaze off the road for a moment and looks my way, offering a small, sweet smile I’m not sure I’ve seen from him before. It blows my mind a little because I feel like I should know all Donovan’s smiles by now.
“And remember, if you want to have sex, you totally can,” he says, and I’m suddenly choking on something invisible in my throat. Donovan wants me to fuck him? “Not with me, you dope. With other people.”
Oh, well, that makes more sense. “Obviously. Something went down the wrong pipe.”
“Air?” Donovan counters.
“You’re not being very nice to me.” I cross my arms.
“I’m the nicest to you. Now back to the topic of sex, I really want to make sure you know that. With people—”
“Who aren’t you.”
“I doubt you’d want to do it with people who are me.”
“I doubt you’d want to do it with people who are me too.” How much easier would my life be if I was into dudes, though. Donovan and I would have the best relationship ever. But he’s the one and only best friend I’ve ever had or will ever have, and that’s enough for me.
“We’re rambling again. The point is, our agreement doesn’t have to interrupt your sex life.”
“Bet. Same for you. Wanna snack?” I reach in the back and grab the bags of food we brought.
“I’m fine. Do you think we need to come up with some kind of timeframe?”
I open a granola bar. “Why are you being so official? It’s not a big deal. It’s just us.”
“Because we’re getting married!”
“Convenience married!” I counter.
“I’m just saying, I don’t want this to blow up in our faces and cause issues between us.”
My throat feels like it closes, and I’m not so hungry anymore. “Wait. Why would it come between us? You said nothing will ever come between us. Are you sure you’re not having second thoughts? If you don’t want to marry me, just say so.” Jesus, does Donovan not want to marry me anymore?
“What? No. I want to marry you. I’m just saying we might want to consider some ground rules. We can always reevaluate.”
I guess it makes sense that he wouldn’t want to be my Insurance Daddy forever. “Maybe until I get on my feet? And find another job—with coverage this time.”
“And mine is probably better anyway, and less expensive. We can say, like, a year for now, unless you want a divorce sooner.”
I grin. “Deal. We’re good at this marriage stuff already.”
Donovan lets the topic go, and I wonder if he’s nervous about this. Surprisingly, I’m not.
We chat about random stuff as we make our way to Vegas, which I must admit, isn’t one of my favorite cities.
We were able to get in quickly to get married, though, which we need to do since he only has a couple of days off before he heads back to work.
An appointment at the courthouse back home was months out.
We’re also moving my shit into his place.
I emailed my landlord that I won’t be renewing my lease.
Really, it’s shocking we haven’t moved back in together before now, but at some point we went through this stupid phase where we thought it was healthy to get some space between us.
That mostly came from other people, and I let that get into my head—the questions about our relationship, saying neither of us will ever meet someone else when we’re so entangled, blah, blah, blah.
Now, I can’t figure out why I let that sway me.
Who cares if Donovan and I are “abnormally” close?
These are the things I’m focusing on rather than everything else going on in my life.
When I called Cliff last night to tell him about my ankle, the asshole fired me—which I’m sure isn’t legal, but am I going to fight it?
That’s not really my style. I thought Donovan was going to blow a gasket, but then he’d gone into fix- it mode, telling me how I’m better off without Cliff, that it’s not like he was keeping me busy anyway, and I’d find a much better job once my ankle healed.
Before I know it, we’re pulling into Las Vegas.
“I can’t believe I’m getting married on crutches and in basketball shorts.”
Donovan makes a right turn. “I’m sure your real marriage will be much better.”
I can’t put my finger on why his reply makes me shift uncomfortably in my seat.
This is a real marriage. Sure, we’re doing it for a reason that likely makes no sense to anyone but us, but we’re going to be married.
And despite Donovan’s insistence that I still go get my dick wet anytime the mood strikes, I have no plans on following through.
Does that mean it’s going to be a long-ass year?
Abso-fucking-lutely. But having sex with someone when I’m married to Donovan feels wrong, especially with everything he went through with that cheating asshole.
Donovan parks in front of a tiny white chapel with a rainbow painted on the front window.
“Do they perform a lot of queer weddings here?”
“I don’t know if a lot, but they advertised for it, so I figured it was a good bet.”
This time, I don’t argue when he parks out front because really, there’s no use.
Donovan grabs the crutches from the back seat, then comes around and opens my door. He holds his hand out, and I let him pull me to my feet. “My husband is totally romantic.” I waggle my brows playfully, and he just smirks and shakes his head.
Donovan keeps pace with me until we reach the door, and then he pulls it open. A white woman with freckles is standing at a table inside. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Yes. Donovan Carter and Eric Markham,” D answers.
“You did the sign-and-go package, right?” She looks at us.
I frown when Donovan says, “Yeah.”
“Sign and go?” I ask.
“Yeah, it was the quickest one they had. I figured since…” He glances at the woman like he’s not sure what to say.
“We’re planning our real ceremony next year.
Right now, we’re just excited to be husbands, so I thought the quickie would work.
” I try not to smile. It’s so cute how he gets about breaking the rules.
Does he think she’s a secret wedding spy who’ll turn us in for not being romantically in love?
“Is that okay?” Donovan asks, bringing me back to the topic at hand.
I try not to let show my…disappointment?
It doesn’t make any sense, but I’m feeling a little bummed that it’s going to be such a quick thing.
It feels wrong when I consider how close Donovan and I are.
On the other hand, this is a marriage of convenience, and weddings cost money.
I’m his unemployed future husband, so it’s smart we’re spending as little as possible.
“Eric?” Donovan asks.
“Yeah. It’s fine. Sorry. My ankle is hurting.” A small fib. It is hurting, but that’s not why I’m distracted.
“Oh shit. You can have another pain pill. Here.” He begins to open his cross-body bag, but I shake him off.
“Nah, I’ll do that on the way home.”
He doesn’t argue, but he’s looking at me as though unsure he believes me.
I give my attention to the woman again. “So…what do you need from us?”