Chapter 2
Evan
“I ’m getting married.”
A little nervous about this announcement, I look around at my family. They all ignore their plates of pie and cookies at my news. My parents and my three brothers are here, and Max and Leo have also brought their significant others.
“Yeah, that’s a funny one,” Jon, my youngest brother, says with a laugh.
Leo shoves his shoulder.
And then there are several seconds of silence.
“ Who are you marrying?” Mom asks at last.
I hesitate. “Remember Jane, my friend from university?” I continue on, telling my family that we’ve been dating for several months, and while I’d typically tell everyone by the three-month mark, I’d been burned so many times in the past that I kept it a secret longer than usual. But somehow, everything with Jane just clicked.
I’ve been in love before. I know how to act the part.
Some members of my family seem suspicious, however. Or they’re still stunned by my unexpected news. But then my dad stands up and gives me a hug, and this is followed by congratulations and questions about the wedding.
“When will you get married?” Dad asks.
“This summer,” I say. “July, maybe?”
Mom clucks her tongue. “Everything will already be booked up.”
Yvonne, Leo’s girlfriend, nods. After all, she’s experienced in the wedding-planning business: she got to the altar with my cousin back in August…and then she bolted.
Yes, my brother is now dating our cousin’s ex.
“We’re just having a small outdoor wedding,” I say. Jane and I agreed that we’d rather spend money on a house than a wedding. She’d be content to go to City Hall with two witnesses, but I want a little more than that, and I offered to do most of the planning. “Maybe on a Sunday afternoon, since most people are in Toronto.” Though a few will be coming from out of town.
“How did you propose?” Dad asks. “Or did she propose?”
I pull out my phone and show them pictures of the cake, which gets a few chuckles. Then I go back to my neglected pecan pie and gingerbread, although none of it tastes as good as it should. I still feel rather anxious.
At the end of the evening, once all the presents have been opened, Max and Kim leave, followed by Leo and Yvonne. When I head out to my car, my mom comes with me. She reaches for my arm after I’ve put the food and gifts in my trunk.
“Is Jane pregnant?” she asks.
“What?” I yelp. Foolishly, I wasn’t prepared for this situation. But an unexpected engagement to a woman…
“I didn’t think so, since you aren’t getting married until the summer, but I thought I’d check.”
“Uh, no,” I say, a little calmer now. “Nobody is pregnant. I know it’s fast, but we’re ready to settle down.”
Mom nods. It’s hard to tell if she’s buying it. “You’ll bring her over soon, yes? It must be sad to spend Christmas apart.”
“I will.”
As I drive home, I wonder what would have happened if I’d told them the truth. I think they would have worried about me, but I suspect some of them are already worrying.
Some parents would just be happy to know their thirty-three-year-old son was getting married, no matter the specifics, but my parents aren’t like that. If I’d told them that I’d given up on love, Dad would say I’m too young for such thoughts.
Maybe someone would tell me that the pessimism is just my depression talking. Leo and Max were single for a long time, after all, and look at them now. They both managed to find someone, didn’t they?
Actually, my depression isn’t terrible these days, unlike a year ago. I finally found a medication that works for me, and sure, I don’t like the side effects, but I no longer feel so damn heavy all the time. It’s definitely an improvement.
Though sometimes, there’s still the self-loathing.
I feel like I shouldn’t have given up, but at the same time, I’m looking forward to our marriage. It’s not what I thought I’d have at this point in my life, but it’ll be good…won’t it?
And in a way, our marriage pact helped me not give up when I was at my lowest. It was something to hold on to when the future seemed hopeless.
When I get home, I check my phone and see a text from Jane, asking how it went with my family. Rather than texting back, I sit down on my couch and call her.
“Merry Christmas,” I say when her face appears on the small screen. I might not be in love with her, but the sight of her does make me smile; it’s not forced.
“So, what did they think?” she asks.
“They were a little surprised, as expected. Jon thought I was joking at first. Maybe I should have worked harder at easing them into it. Told them we were dating a month ago, or something like that. My mom asked if you’re pregnant.”
“ What? ”
“Yeah, that was my response.”
“I haven’t even had sex in almost nine years,” she mutters. She’s not complaining about a dry spell; it’s just a statement of fact. “My family wasn’t suspicious or surprised, and nobody asked about pregnancy.” She pauses. “I’m a little envious. Your family knows you well enough to actually be surprised. My dad’s just like, congrats, here’s a check.”
“Jane…”
She scrubs a hand over her face. “Actually, you should know…”
My heart thumps loudly in my chest. “Yes?”
“Part of the reason I want to marry you is because of your family.”
That hadn’t occurred to me, but as soon as she says it, it makes sense. And it doesn’t bother me—after all, I’m not in love with her, plus I know my family isn’t the only reason we’re doing this.
“Don’t worry,” she rushes. “It’s not like I’ll expect much of them. But it was nice when I came to your Thanksgiving, and I think it’ll be nice to have somewhere to go for holidays.”
I feel a smidge of guilt. I should have invited her along more often in the past. Though on many holidays, I had a partner of my own, and it would have seemed weird to show up with both a friend and a partner.
“If we do have kids,” she says, “I’ll appreciate them having relatives nearby.”
We’ve agreed not to seriously start planning for children until we’ve been married for a year. We want to be sure the marriage is going the way we hope it will.
And we still have a lot to figure out.
Jane and I are both off work between Christmas and New Year’s, and we take advantage of the break to discuss our wedding and marriage plans. She comes over to my place on the afternoon of the twenty-ninth. After eating takeout sushi, we sit down on the couch with her laptop, and she pulls up the document that we started last month.
Now that I’ve told my family, this engagement feels real in a way it didn’t before, especially when we’re discussing stuff like wedding venues…and getting preapproved for a mortgage…and where, exactly, we want to live. Frank discussions about finances certainly make things feel very, very real.
Jane freezes in the middle of typing.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I just thought of something. Two things, actually. First of all, I don’t usually wear a bra when I’m home, and I have to know you’ll be okay with that.”
I’m thrown by the change in conversation, but it’s not a big deal to me.
“Of course,” I say.
“And second of all…I guess we’ll have to kiss. When we get married, if nothing else.”
“Is that a legal requirement? I assume not.”
Rather than replying, Jane starts googling, and a few minutes of research convince us that kissing your spouse is not actually required.
“We can tell the officiant not to say that line,” I say. “No big deal.” Except it might make my family suspicious that something is up.
If they don’t believe I’m in love, will they think Jane is using me in some way?
“We should kiss.” She nods decisively. “I mean, unless it makes you uncomfortable—”
“No, no,” I assure her, “but we should practice beforehand. To make sure it goes okay.”
“Good thinking.” She sets aside her laptop, cracks her knuckles, and shifts toward me.
I chuckle. “I didn’t mean now . I meant the day before or something.”
“We might as well start now, just in case. It’s been years since I kissed someone, and I could be horribly out of practice. Besides, there could be another occasion when we need to kiss to convince people of our relationship.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“What?” she says. “It happens all the time in dramas.”
“I wasn’t aware you watched such things.”
She shrugs before shifting even closer so that our thighs are touching. She turns her head toward me and rests her forehead against mine. “This is weird. But yes, I’m sure I want to try.”
I tilt my head. As my mouth drops to hers, I have the sudden thought that maybe, this kiss will change everything. Maybe it will show me that I want her as something other than a good friend. Maybe it will make me see her in a whole different light—and vice versa.
Again, the sort of thing that happens in dramas.
But not in real life. Because when her lips meet mine, there’s no magic. No zing. It’s not unpleasant, but it doesn’t make my body flare with passion. I feel strangely distant from it all.
And disappointed, even though I knew this would be a marriage of convenience.
“That wasn’t so bad,” she says.
“Yeah.” I swallow. “Not so bad.”
I excuse myself to use the washroom, and when I return to the couch, Jane is typing. I rest my arm on her shoulders, and she doesn’t flinch at this casual contact. It’s comfortable, yet I feel an ache, a longing for something more. Not with her, in particular, but with someone.
Except I’ve started more than half a dozen relationships, with a variety of people, thinking that this will be the one. This is it; this is what I’ve been waiting for.
I know what it’s like to be immensely fond of someone’s smile or forearms. I know what it’s like to sink into a person’s body and never want to leave, to be set aflutter by a fingertip touching my cheek.
But my relationships never last, for one reason or another. And after so many times of doing the same thing over and over, wouldn’t it be silly to keep looking and expect a different outcome next time?
No, this is sensible. It’s for the best.
There’s just a little part of me that can’t help wondering what if .