11 BEN
BEN
The glow Janie had on her face, one I was damn proud to put there, is gone as soon as she spots the paperwork.
I try to keep things light as I pull out my pen, “A few signatures and we’re off to the chapel.”
At the word chapel, her face contorts. She collapses down on the low couch across from me, flopping into a beautiful, frilly heap.
“Janie?”
“What?”
“You look a little green, love,” I say gently. She nods nervously. I can see her mind racing. She looks not just sick, but terrified. “Care to share some of those racing thoughts aloud?”
“We can’t. This is,” she fluffs her skirt and looks around the room. “This is too much. Too fast. Too crazy.”
“It is…” I agree. “We could just get engaged now, stage a wedding later? As long as we sign the marriage certificate before the end of the year.”
“Benedict, I can’t…this is…this is marriage! Aren’t you freaking out? Why aren’t you freaking out?”
I forgot women have a thing with weddings. Getting married one day. Being a blushing bride. I’ve never really thought about any of it. After years of restlessness with date after date and girlfriend after girlfriend, I gave up on the idea of marriage for myself.
I didn’t really think about marriage between Janie and me either.
Though my brain did short-circuit when she put that ring on and gasped.
And my entire soul left my body at the sight of her in this dress.
How a woman can be so down to earth and look so totally otherworldly is beyond my tiny capacity of comprehension.
But on the whole, I haven’t thought about the wedding or the marriage.
“Because, darling, it’s not real. It’s just playing pretend for a few months.” I touch her knee. “And I do think playing with you will be particularly fun.”
“This is not about fun!” she almost shouts as she pulls her knee away.
I haven’t really been thinking about the fun either.
I’ve been thinking about my family…my mother…everything else. The past. The very precarious present.
More than that, I can’t get the sight of my P.I.’s report detailing the sad state of Janie’s bank account out of my mind. She needs this. Badly.
“No, it’s about financial ruin. Both mine and yours. I know you’ve run the numbers and you need the cash or you wouldn’t have agreed in the first place.”
“But I have a plan for that, I’m making money, I’m saving. There are other ways to fix it. Slower, I guess but something other than a marriage contract, there—” she rambles, shaking her head violently. Her hands are shaking too. I grab them.
“There are. And you can do it on your own. But contractual marriages exist because they’re smart.
Quick. Beneficial. I’m a wealthy, privileged, very handsome bastard in need of help.
Use me, love. Take advantage of me, my position.
Just a year and you’ll be completely set.
Three hundred and sixty-five days.” She sniffs and looks up at me, her resolve weakening.
“And only the first ninety of those, between now and new years, those are the only days that really matter.”
“Seventy-eight,” she corrects absently.
“Best to start them now, then. Let’s sign these, get the chapel bit over with, quick kiss photo for the paparazzi, and you’re back in bed by 8 pm.
” As if on cue, her stomach rumbles. “Okay, dinner first and then in bed by 9.” One corner of her mouth twitches and I can tell I’ve almost got her.
“Don’t make me bring up sweet Gran and the monthly cost of her room and board. ”
Her mouth lifts even more, “You really are a bastard.”
“Handsome. Handsome bastard.” I quit while I’m ahead and hand her the pen.
“No kiss photo,” she adds as she takes the pen and signs. As she does, something coiled tight in my chest releases at the sight. She’s in this. With me. I fight the giant smile trying to explode across my face. Don’t want to spook her.
I’m not sure why I’m so excited right now but I’ve got to rein it in or she’ll change her mind.
I’m almost buzzing. Even though marriage is definitely not my dream come true. Plus, my blushing bride will not make the next seventy-something days easy on me.
But I’ve bested my father at his cruel game. I’m saving my family the heartache. I’m saving Janie and her Gran.
Nah, it’s none of that.
It’s the thrill.
I am an adventure seeker through and through, and this is possibly the greatest one I’ve embarked on.
I know with this woman, this smart, funny and brutally gorgeous woman, there will hardly be a dull moment.
Well, betwixt the hours of 8am and 8pm, when she’ll want to be tucked away.
I chuckle at how opposite we are. Makes this whole thing even more interesting.
The grin I’ve been fighting takes over as I accept the pen from her slender hands.
I’m only human.
And she’s already signed on the line.
_____
“Ten minutes and it’s done. Day one begins, seventy-seven to go.
” She looks starkly out of place in this old chapel lobby.
She fidgets nervously with the horrid fake bouquet that the so-called wedding planner handed her, so I add, “Only three hundred and sixty-four until you’re a multi-millionaire. ”
“Uh huh,” she says, startling at the sound of an organ.
“Alright, time for the groom to slip inside before the bride’s grand entrance down the aisle!” the planner chirps.
“Bride,” Janie mutters. She gives me a fake smile. “Happy wedding day.”
“It’s not real, love. You’ll have a real wedding someday.” I make my eyes wide and put up a hand to whisper dramatically, “And just think of the budget you’ll have to pay for it!”
“Go,” she says.
I pause.
“You’re…not going to run, are you?”
“I believe I just signed away my right to do that.” I tilt my head, as that’s not exactly comforting. But she sees my discomfort I guess, because she adds, “I’m not running, Boss. Go.”
I do, reluctantly. I’ve barely hit the stage next to the…minister? Justice of the peace? Elderly man donning a thick black wig, clearly just in an Elvis costume, who’s now changed into some sort of clergy get up, when the famous bridal song comes over the speaker.
The flourish of the chapel doors is surprisingly grand in the small, stale, white room with burgundy carpet and garish stained glass windows.
Or maybe it’s just her. Janie walks slowly, head high.
She’s regal as ever, even in this gaudy place.
She’s added a veil behind her neck and it creates a halo effect around her.
When she reaches me, new ring, earrings and necklace reflecting little sparkles all around us, I cough involuntarily.
Then I cough again because…
Bloody hell, what is that smell?
The minister begins, obviously reading our names from cue cards. I study my bride but any nerves I could see on Janie’s face vanish as she locks eyes with me. Now there’s just disgust. She smells it too.
I cough again. Janie clears her throat.
Whatever that is, it’s getting worse.
Janie’s eyes are getting wider by the second. And they’re watering. Mine start to sting also. I look around in search of a bin or maybe discarded food? What the actual—
FURRRRRP!
Good God in Heaven.
The minister’s breaking wind. Just freely letting his flatulence fly, our WEDDING CEREMONY be damned?!
Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.
Janie looks away as soon as she hears it. She’s shaking. With laughter.
How am I supposed to hold back now?
Her face is basically purple by the time the officiant asks her, “Do you take this man?”
She says, “I do,” and then snorts. Then regrets the snort because of the smell. Which makes us both crack up again.
The minister drones on.
“Did you just snort?!” I mouth to her.
“Shut up!” she mouths back.
In this moment, blush on her cheeks and smile on her face, I’m grateful for the old codger and his gas. I do feel a bit bad, since I’m sure she didn’t dream of a wedding in a sleazy Vegas chapel, holding stained, fake flowers and smelling of…what is that? Eggs and…broccoli? I cough again.
Janie cannot look at me without laughing.
But she’s not anxious anymore. Not disappointed. Not side-eyeing me.
She looks happy. That rare spark of fire is back in her pale irises.
And as I say “I do,” I make my own secret, separate vow.
This girl, closed off and prickly as she may be, took on the entire load for her family and was crushed by the responsibility, the debt.
She needs relief; financial, mental, even comical.
Lucky for her, she’s marrying the family clown.
Benedict Clark, always good for a laugh, I’ve heard it forever.
So it’s easy to solemnly promise right now to do what I can to keep this look on her lovely face as much as possible over the next three months.
I just wonder exactly how hard a feat that will be.