18. Chapter 18
Mackenzie
T al and I are sitting behind the school, waiting for rehearsals to start and sharing a pack of gummy worms.
“Which temple do you want to get married in?” he asks, and I tilt my head while I think about it.
“I think the Provo City Center Temple. I’ve never been inside, but I think the outside is really pretty.”
He nods. “I like that one, too. What season?”
“Fall. I love the colors.”
“I like that, too. Then it’s not close to either of our birthdays, either. I’m thinking maybe the end of September or the beginning of October?”
I smile when I realize he’s planning our wedding and not just making small talk. “That sounds good to me.”
“What kind of cake are we having?”
I tap my chin. “I think a combination. You like funfetti, but I like red velvet, so maybe we do a layer of each?”
“I like that idea. Best of both worlds. Just promise you won’t shove the cake in my face? ”
“I won’t if you won’t.” I hold out my pinky, and he wraps his around mine before giving me a quick kiss.
“Deal. I can’t wait to marry you, Mack.”
“I can’t get enough of my wife.”
I’m Talmage Monson’s wife.
And apparently… he can’t get enough of me.
Signing the certificate, leaving the municipal building, and getting in the car is a bit of a blur since my mind is still reeling from the fact I’m married .
I wasn’t expecting to feel the cocktail of emotions swirling through my stomach. Everything from guilt, sadness, relief, hope, and… love.
I felt like we were lying to the Higgins guy. His speech was sweet and heartfelt, and even though he probably uses it with everyone, it felt genuine—like it was meant just for us.
And it made me feel guilty.
Because this marriage isn’t built on love—at least, not entirely.
I’ve loved Talmage for over a decade, but there’s a slim chance he reciprocates those feelings.
Whatever this is, it’s built on mutual benefit and America’s shitty healthcare system.
It’s built on desperation and Talmage’s kind, selfless nature.
But you’d never know this marriage is a sham based on Tal’s reactions. I saw the way his gaze traveled over my body when I walked in. I saw the tears he was blinking away during the ceremony, and the genuine surprise and awe on his face when he realized I got him a ring to match mine.
I don’t know why I did it. A sense of possession, maybe? Just something small to show he’s mine. I doubt people will look too closely at our rings, but I still wanted to know for myself that our rings match and symbolize our union even if it doesn’t last forever.
Tal convinced me to ride in his car with him to the restaurant.
Nathan and Enoch are in one car, and Lizzie and the twins are in mine.
We’re going to Braz?o, a Brazilian steakhouse where they cut the meat at your table.
I argued it was too much, but Tal reminded me this is a celebration, and nothing is too much when it comes to celebrating our marriage.
Hard to argue with him. Especially when he sounds so earnest.
The car is filled with a heavy silence. Tal’s hands grip the steering wheel at ten and two, and I can feel him glancing at me every few seconds, like he’s trying to make sure I’m actually here.
The back of his car is filled with bags and boxes, a reminder that after dinner he’ll be moving in. Tonight, we’ll share a bed. Tomorrow, we’ll have breakfast together and possibly lunch and dinner—I don’t know his work schedule. We’ll be sharing a life just like the officiant said.
I’ve never shared a life with anyone. Sharing apartments with my friends or my workaholic ex-boyfriend didn’t feel as life-altering as sharing a space with the boy I’ve loved since I was fourteen .
We get to the restaurant first and sit in silence for a minute. I watch happy couples celebrating a belated Valentine’s Day hold hands and walk around with big smiles on their faces, hearts practically coming out of their eyes.
“How are you feeling?” Tal breaks the silence, turning to face me.
“Overwhelmed,” I answer honestly.
Tal’s lips kick up on one side. “Same. It was… a lot. Are you… do you have any regrets?”
I roll my head on the headrest to look at him.
The sun glints off of the gem in his ring, catching my attention before I look at my husband.
He looks dashing in his suit. The tie matches the moss agate in our rings—intentional, probably.
His mustache is freshly trimmed, and his face has clearly just been shaved.
His skin looks so smooth, my hands itch to feel it.
His dirty blonde hair is neatly gelled to one side, but a stray strand has escaped, flopped on his forehead.
My eyes automatically drop to his lips, and—maybe unconsciously—his tongue pokes out and licks a path across the pillowy surface.
“No regrets.” I look in his eyes—safer territory than anywhere lower.
Or not, if the heat I see in his blue depths is real and not my imagination.
“Me neither. In fact I—”
A knock on the window startles both of us.
I really want to know what he was going to say, but I guess I’ll have to wait since our entourage is standing in the brisk wind and motioning for us to get the hell inside .
I give Tal an apologetic smile and go to open my door.
“Wait! Let me open my wife’s door.” He hurries out, rounding the car and opening my door for me. I take his offered hand, and he helps me out of the car, our bodies pressing close together. His eyes roam around my face
“You look beautiful,” he whispers, just for us to hear.
“You already complimented me,” I whisper back.
“I’ll compliment you for the rest of my life, Mack.”
The butterflies erupt, flying around in my stomach as he takes my hand and turns to lead our group into the restaurant.
I really want to believe him.
I’m only half listening to the conversations going on around me. I’m still staring at the massive bouquet of red, pink, and white roses. A ring balloon and a heart-shaped one stick out of the vase, nestled between the flowers.
Tal looked sheepish when I turned to him with wide eyes. He just shrugged and told me he couldn’t not get me something for Valentine's Day.
Then, he produced a wood-carved rose painted gold.
Another callback to our first—and only—Valentine’s Day together in ninth grade.
The rose he carved at fourteen was misshapen and lumpy and not painted.
Clearly the work of someone who’d just barely gotten into wood carving, but I still cherished it until we broke up and looking at it hurt too much.
I threw it away—which I regretted later.
This rose looks almost professionally done. It’s got crisp cuts and smooth surfaces, the gold paint is evenly spread, and there are no chips or blotchy spots to be seen.
How long did it take him to do this?
Kinsley and Harper “ooo’d” and “aww’d” over the flowers and the gold-painted rose. To them, this is just a sweet gesture to celebrate our marriage and Valentine’s Day. Lizzie gave me a look that said you’re fucked .
I am. My heart is fucked, and we’ve only been married for two hours!
Because the wooden rose means so much more to me than he could ever know.
It represents a time when things were simple, and I was in love with a boy who promised me forever.
It reminds me of late-night texting and early mornings at school, walking around talking about everything and nothing.
It’s stolen kisses backstage between rehearsals and notes passed between classes.
A reminder of a time before life flipped me upside down.
I tune back in when another server comes back over with their sticks of meat and pineapple. I really want more of the pineapple, so I ask them to cut me off a few slices.
“Preparing for the wedding night?” Lizzie whispers in my ear from beside me.
I roll my eyes. “You know that’s not what this is.”
Lizzie shrugs, stabbing a piece of chicken with her fork. “The way that man was eye-fucking you when he saw the girls sitting so pretty? I wouldn’t be so sure.” She motions to the way my dress hugs my tits, pumping her eyebrows suggestively .
“Lizzie!” I hiss. “He was not! Don’t say shit like that.”
“Why? You’re married. He should want to fuck his wife.”
“You know that’s not going to happen,” I murmur, hoping no one else can hear our conversation. How mortifying to be embarrassed about fucking your husband.
“Maybe not, but don’t count it out, babe.
I still think you should keep an open mind about this.
I think this could be the start of something beautiful.
” She leans away from me and says, loud enough for the table to hear, “Twinsies, you’re having a sleepover at my house tonight so Tal and Mack can… get settled.”
Woah, what?!
Tal chokes on his cheese bread, and Enoch starts patting him on the back.
Kinsley points her fork at Lizzie. “Will there be popcorn and movies?”
Lizzie rolls her eyes. “Obviously.”
Kinsley nods her approval and goes back to eating her food. I’m shocked at her lack of argument.
“Dude,” Enoch says. “You’re finally going to lose your virginity!” He holds his hand up for a high five.
Talmage socks him in the arm.
Enoch starts wailing about the pain. “Lizzie,” he pouts. “I need you to kiss it better.”
“I would, but I wouldn’t want to over-excite you and have you come in your pants at this nice restaurant,” my best friend says, not sparing him a second glance.
“I love it when they’re mean,” Enoch groans.
What the hell is happening right now? !
Lizzie—bless her—helps shift the conversation by asking Kinsley about her science project, and Nathan, Enoch, and Talmage ask insightful questions.
The rest of lunch goes by quickly, and before I know it, Talmage is paying the bill—despite my protests—and we’re making the half-hour journey back to my house.
Where Tal will be moving in.
With me.
And we’ll be alone tonight.
Nothing’s going to happen.
Even if part of me really, really wants it to.