Chapter 6
6
Theo braces for the impact of those three words that tumbled out of his mouth like a revelation. He watches as her face expresses an entire spectrum of emotion in real time, morphing from wide eyes to furrowed forehead lines, her lips pursed together until she can no longer contain the laughter that escapes in the form of a snort-cackle that makes him so anxious. Not to take back the proposal, but to clarify it. He can’t. At least, not while Evelyn continues to snort-cackle ( snackle? ). She plucks a napkin from the dispenser between them and leans forward to wipe his cheek. Purple ice cream streaks the napkin.
“I’m sorry,” she snackle-cries. “For a second, I thought you were serious.”
“Hear me out,” Theo says.
Evelyn crumples the napkin. “You’re serious?”
In the beat of silence that follows, Theo considers leaning into the joke that Evelyn so badly wants this to be. It’s not too late to laugh off his very serious proposal like he’s still the ten-year-old kid who wrinkled his nose any time an adult in their lives referred to Evelyn as his girlfriend.
But.
It’s a solution.
“I am.”
“Theodore.”
He holds his phone out to show Evelyn the paragraph that inspired him. “We can combine our income to meet the minimum salary threshold if we’re married.”
“Seriously?” she asks, and he watches her read and reread that single paragraph until her tiny forehead vein protrudes. “So our financial status is sufficient, so long as we change our relationship status? That’s bullshit. No . No way .”
“Ouch,” Theo mutters, clutching his heart. “Don’t let me down too easy.”
Evelyn kicks his shin, then winces. “Sorry,” she whispers, caressing the toe that just smashed into his leg. “It’s a loaded question.”
His eyes meet hers. “I know.”
They were twelve when Naomi left her daughters to “find herself.” Just kids when Evelyn fell apart in his arms at the end of the recital her mother had missed. Over the years, Theo has listened to Evelyn wax poetic about how marriage—the institution—benefits men more than women. She’d recite studies and statistics about how many people exist in unhappy marriages because the patriarchy sells a false narrative, a fantasy—and the reality, to quote teen Evelyn, fucking blows .
“I won’t do it,” she’d declared just a year ago, after she turned down Hanna’s proposal—and Hanna responded by accepting a job offer in Atlanta. Reeling from the breakup, Evelyn asked Theo to spend a weekend in Big Bear. “I love her, but I can’t marry her,” she confessed as the two of them stared up at a sky so magical it almost made the blisters he could feel forming from the six-mile hike worth it. “Naomi jumped into marriage and, like, became a wife. David’s wife. At twenty-six, her identity was so wrapped up in him, and then he left her, left us… and then she left us. I’m working with Jules on not being so angry about it. Naomi leaving, remarrying, tethering herself to someone else because it was such a great idea the first time around. She never learns. But I did… and I love Han, I want to be with her. But I won’t marry her. I refuse to legally bind my heart to someone who could just wake up one day and leave.”
In the darkness illuminated only by the stars, Evelyn Bloom vowed that she would never marry. Then she fell asleep on his shoulder and his heart cracked in half listening to her snore. Once upon a time he wanted it all—marriage, a family, a white-picket-fence cliché of a life.
But he’d let go of that fantasy of a life with Evelyn long ago.
They’d woken up covered in mosquito bites. On the miserable hike back to her car, she referred to them as platonic soulmates and he only felt relieved that they’d never crossed the invisible boundary between friendship and something more, that the universe intervened in a truly dramatic fashion every time he walked that line like a tightrope.
Because she truly is his happy place.
In the most platonic-soulmate way.
Marry me, Evelyn.
Of course he understands her visceral reaction to his question that he didn’t even phrase as a question. It’s a loaded ask for him, too, because regardless of his own issues with his father, he can’t deny the truth that his parents were in real, proper love. Lori’s death destroyed Jacob, caused him to push, push, push his grief away, his memories of life Before Cancer, his son who needed him. Now? Theo’s anxious just thinking about that white-picket-fence cliché of a life, overwhelmed at the thought of opening his heart enough to anyone because, really, is the temporary joy worth the inevitable pain? Theo isn’t sure who he’s more afraid to be in these hypothetical situations… the person who dies or the person left behind.
But.
This isn’t a proposal to build a cliché of a life. It’s also not a trap. Rather, it’s a proposal for two platonic soulmates to game an economy that makes it way too hard to build any kind of life. It’s a temporary freedom. In more ways than just being a short-term solution for their housing crisis.
Finally, Evelyn says, “I’ll call Pep in the morning. I hate to ask them, but getting married just to keep an apartment is kind of insane.”
“Maybe,” he concedes with a shrug. “But have I ever told you that I have excellent benefits?”
She rolls her eyes, but he sees the moment it clicks for her. The flicker of possibility in her expression indicating that she understands exactly what he’s offering. “Theodore—”
“You could take the fellowship.”
“Oh.”
Oh?
“Did you already say no?”
“No.”
Theo’s eyebrows knit together because he knows she wants this. She told him as much, before she knew that he forged the application that secured her spot. Theo can’t unmake that decision, but he can address the reason why she didn’t apply in the first place and it feels just as important as the apartment situation. Maybe more important, because Theo also fucked up her first dream, shattered her future as a dancer with a single irreversible mistake.
But.
This is a fixable mistake. He removes his wallet from his pocket and pulls out his insurance card. He hands the piece of plastic to Evelyn and watches her eyes widen upon taking in just the minimal information that the card provides—his in-network deductible, out-of-pocket maximum, and copays.
“Are you trying to seduce me?”
Theo swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Is it working?”
“It’s not… not working? Shit. I’ve never seen a deductible so glorious,” she admits, handing his insurance card back to him. “What’s your coinsurance situation?”
Theo frowns. “Coinsurance?”
“How much does your insurance cover after you hit your deductible?”
“Um.” Is this a trick question? “Assuming it’s in-network… all of it?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Is that not how insurance works?”
Evelyn looks at him like that’s not how insurance works. It’s how his works. Theo should know. Who knows how much money he’d spend without it—on EKGs that assure him that no , he’s not having a heart attack, on CT scans that do not diagnose him with a brain aneurysm, on bloodwork that always comes back normal. Every visit is justified. Because once he hits that glorious deductible, the most he pays to quiet his brain is a ten-dollar copay for the office visit. It’s always temporary, that quiet, but seeing doctors and running tests provide the reassurance he needs to keep functioning.
“Your premiums must be ridiculous.”
Sixty bucks, taken out of each biweekly paycheck. “Not really.”
“Can I see your EOB?”
Theo opens the healthcare app on his phone and clicks on the link to his plan’s Explanation of Benefits. Evelyn reads and scrolls and reads and scrolls past preventative care, past testing and imaging, to hospital care, and then to prescription coverage. Care and medication that she needs. Evelyn attempts to keep her expression neutral, but Theo knows her too well and notes every subtle reaction—the twitch of her lip, the flare of her nostrils, the ever-so-slight widening of her eyes.
“I—” she begins, then pauses. “Theodore. Insurance like this would change my entire life.”
Theo smiles. “Yeah?”
Evelyn hands his phone back to him and he registers the tears pooling in her lash lines. “I can’t.”
“Ev—”
“I love you so much for the offer, but you don’t want this with me.”
“It’s my idea.”
“It’s not necessary. I’m positive Pep and Mo will agree to cosign the lease.”
He shakes his head and waves away those words. “You want to live together?”
Evelyn nods.
“Then stop overthinking this. Marry me. Accept the fellowship.”
She runs a hand through her hair and exhales a shaky laugh. “I’m kind of spinning out.”
“You don’t have to,” Theo insists. “It’s just a signature on a piece of paper that would buy us some time to breathe.”
“Just a signature,” she repeats, bemused.
He nods. “We keep my apartment. You take the dream job and become a working Foley artist. Once you’re in the union, which, correct me if I’m wrong, also has excellent benefits, we’ll sign another piece of paper and return to our regular platonic-soulmate life.”
“You’re serious.”
“Incredibly.”
“Theodore.”
“What? It’s a great idea. Unless you’re secretly in love with me…” His eyes widen. “Holy shit. You’re secretly in love with me.”
“Head over heels,” she deadpans.
“Knew it.”
Then they’re laughing. Well, he’s laughing and she’s snackle-ing. It always feels so good, his ability to say the exact right thing to get Evelyn out of her head. Once their laughter subsides, she stands and shoots her ice cream cup into the trash can nearest to their table. “Can I take a beat to process?”
That isn’t a no.
“Sure.”
“Cool.”
“I’d be a fantastic husband.”
Evelyn’s nose scrunches. “I know.”
Theo ignores the sincerity in her tone that doesn’t match her expression. “Sal needs an answer by the end of the week.”
She nods. “You mentioned that.”
Theo needs to swing by Ralphs to pick up produce for the week. Evelyn needs to retrieve Gen from his apartment, so she circles around to the other side of the table where he’s still seated and wraps her arms around his neck in a goodbye hug, before whispering, “I’d be a terrible wife.”
He looks at her, mimicking her expression. “I know.”
She lets go of him, then shoves his shoulder. “Asshole.”
Theo laughs. “Text me when you’re at Gen’s?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll do a grocery run and be home before you’re even through downtown,” Theo says. “This life could be yours, too. Just marry me, Evelyn.”
She removes keys from her tote bag. “I do miss Pasadena.”
“So come home, then.”
Evelyn’s expression turns serious, those words disarming enough to render her speechless. Theo worries it’s too much. Way too earnest. But he’s trying to sell a plan that doesn’t just provide another year of housing security for them but also gives her the security she needs to pursue her art.
Theo can do this for her.
She can let him do this for her.
“Okay.”
Theo’s eyebrows rise, as this is the shortest beat to ever beat. “Okay?”
“Yes.”
His heart hammers in his chest, thrashes wildly against his rib cage at the one-syllable answer to his question that changes nothing. It changes nothing . Theo can marry his best friend and it can mean nothing outside the benefits—health insurance, a Foley fellowship, a retained apartment.
“Assuming it would be low-key,” Evelyn adds.
“Super low-key! Really, no one even needs to know.”
“Gen needs to know.”
“Only Gen needs to know.”
“Pep and Mo, too,” Evelyn adds, then nods once and it’s firm. Decisive. “Okay.”
Theo googles same day marriage LA county how in that order because what even are words and starts a shared to-do list because lists are logical, lists are calculated, just like this decision. It’s a straightforward process. Go to the LA County Registrar-Recorder/County Clerk office ( not city hall) with a photo ID, bring a witness, pay a fee, sign some papers, and… that’s it.
“I have a half day on Wednesday,” Theo says. Well, technically his kids do, but he’ll be free from the afternoon of professional development by two o’clock, enough time to make it to the closest office, even in traffic. “It’s probably our best shot of making it during the week.”
Her eyes meet his. “As long as we make it home in time for Survivor .”
Home.
We.
Theo ignores whatever that sentence is doing to his heart. “Of course.”
Evelyn breaks the eye contact, her attention shifting to a screen aglow with notifications. Gen has blown up her phone in a truly dramatic fashion that has her off to retrieve her sister and return to the west side, but not before standing and saying goodbye with one more hug. “Are we seriously doing this?”
“It’s just a piece of paper,” Theo repeats. “Nothing will change.”
“We’re getting married so I can quit my full-time job for a minimum-wage fellowship.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s kind of a monumental change.”
“It is.” Theo nods. “I meant with us. Nothing will change. I promise.”
Evelyn rolls her eyes, then takes a step out of the embrace. “That I’m not worried about, Theodore.”
It’s not until the headlights of her car turn on and he watches Evelyn pull out of the parking lot that Theo dares to acknowledge—then promptly swallow—the truth that his insistence, no, promise , that nothing will change was possibly more for himself than it was for her.