Chapter Ten Euan
“Theresa wants to get back together.”
I pause a few feet from Alex, frowning at him. That isn’t quite the response I expected to my “Good morning.”
He stares back at me, blue eyes wide and pleading, as if he needs some direction.
There are dark marks under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept all night.
Today, instead of the suit, he’s wearing a pale blue button-up and gray slacks.
The simple attire makes it more obvious that he’s feeling off-kilter because he missed one of the bottom buttons, creating a small fold.
My fingers itch to fix it for him but I know the gesture would be overfamiliar.
“Do you want to get back together with her?” I hold my breath, knowing what I want the answer to be: a strong, resounding no.
He hesitates a beat too long. “I don’t know. My head’s too full of you right now.” A slight flush colors his cheeks and he stammers, “I mean, of the marriage. The scam. That whole … thing.”
“Maybe you’ll understand your mind better once we figure out where we stand.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, though he doesn’t sound convinced.
I gesture for him to lead the way, and we walk to the lot where he’s parked his car. “So, I take it she swooped yesterday.”
“Like a damn hawk sighting a mouse,” he agrees with a grimace.
If you’re grimacing, why even consider getting back together with her? But it’s not my relationship and I have no idea what they talked about.
He doesn’t speak again until we’re settled in the car. “She apologized, actually.”
“Good, you deserved an apology.”
A little furrow forms between his brows as he absorbs my words. Then he nods once, firmly. “I did. I’m happy she apologized.”
Is that enough to take her back? It’s a struggle to swallow the words down.
I shouldn’t try to influence his decision.
One drunken night of rambling isn’t enough to understand their relationship.
I’ve never dated anyone longer than a year.
Maybe I’d also be more willing to hold on to something I’d spent so long building up.
And after this week, I won’t be here to help him with the fallout. Influencing him one way or the other wouldn’t be fair when it’s his future, not mine. But if we’re married, it’s my future too.
“What would you do?” He’s not looking at me as he asks the question, his eyes focused on the road. His hands clench the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white. “If Nick wanted to get back together, would you?”
“It’s not really the same situation,” I reply carefully. “We weren’t getting married, we were just meeting in person for the first time.”
Alex nods, the gesture almost absentminded. “Did you want to marry him? Some people claim they know immediately when they’ve met ‘the one.’”
I think back on our drunken night together.
How the words of Alex’s silly proposal so quickly filled up the empty parts of my heart.
When I’d said ‘yes.’ I’d initially been playing along with the joke.
But the more I dwell on it, the more I wish it were real.
That someone had seen me and immediately thought ‘I want to be with him forever.’
“We discussed it,” I admit. “Just to establish our positions. No point in dating to marry if the other person frowns on the whole institution.”
“What did he say?”
“That he would enjoy the tax benefits,” I reply dryly.
Alex cringes and takes his eyes off the road long enough to shoot me a sympathetic look. “He didn’t think about you at all? What a life together would be like?”
“I don’t know. He probably did—he seems to think about life from every possible angle—but he never shared his thoughts with me.”
“And what are your thoughts on marriage?” Alex pulls the car into a mostly empty parking lot. There’s still some time before the office opens. He turns the car off and finally gives me his full attention, looking at me like I’m the most important thing in his world.
“I want a partnership,” I begin. “Someone who will split the chores with me, maybe not equally, but in a way that makes sense for us.” As I talk, a hazy image forms in my mind of an indistinct figure drying the dishes while I wash them.
Putting away the groceries I brought home.
Simple, domestic tasks. “Someone who shares my interests.” The image changes so that we’re watching a movie together while we cuddle on the couch, my arm over his shoulders.
Alex watches me, his eyes wide and a little unfocused, like he sees everything I’m describing.
“And of course, someone who I have chemistry with in the bedroom.” The image this time is the clearest of all: Alex underneath me, lips glossy and swollen from countless kisses, eyes closed as he’s overwhelmed with pleasure.
The real Alex’s breath hitches, and I wonder if he’s imagining the same thing. The hitch turns into a laugh as he grins at me. “So you want what everyone wants.”
I smile back at him, but it’s fleeting, hard to hold in place. “I guess. Unfortunately, it’s not what everyone gets.”
I almost regret the words when his smile slips. “Yeah, a lot of marriages are … definitely not like that.”
Is he thinking of his potential future with Theresa? Or someone else entirely? “Ours certainly isn’t,” I reply. “I had to do all the dishes on my own last night.”
He rolls his eyes and plays along with the joke. “Let’s figure out if this marriage is real first and then we can discuss the division of household chores.” With that, he gets out of the car and heads toward the door.
Unsurprisingly, we’re the first people inside. The office is small, with a few chairs designating a waiting area and a long service counter. Behind the counter is a closed door with a bronze plaque that proclaims the office belongs to Stephanie Belhart, County Clerk.
A young man sits behind the counter, his gaze focused on the computer. He briefly glances at us and offers a quick, tired smile. “How can I help you?”
Once again, Alex steps up to explain the situation. “I think we were scammed Saturday night.”
“Scammed?” the employee’s eyes widen in surprise, then his eyebrows bunch in confusion. “What do you mean scammed?”
“Have you ever heard of Virtual Vows?”
“Not really?”
“Supposedly, it’s an online marriage service, but we don’t know if it’s real.” Alex gestures between himself and me and explains, “We need to see if we’re legally married.”
“Oh! Yeah, I can see why that’d be concerning,” the employee agrees. “Don’t worry, if it was a scam, we can go over the whole legal process and still get you married today.”
Alex looks at me, wide-eyed, then shakes his head vigorously. “No, we don’t want to be married. We want the opposite. We want it to be a scam.”
The employee stares blankly at us. “You want it to be a scam,” he repeats.
“It’s a long story,” I say.
“Okaaaay,” he draws the word out, as if giving himself time to process the strange couple who brought this tangled mess to him first thing in the morning. “Well, if you give me your IDs, I can look your names up in the system, see if a marriage license has been issued to you.”
Alex and I both pull out our IDs and pass them along the counter. While the employee types in our information, more people enter and sit in the waiting area, giving us an unwanted audience.
After a few minutes, the employee says, “I don’t have anything in the system for you.”
Alex slumps with relief.
I know I should feel the same, that I shouldn’t want to be legally bound to someone I just met, but I can’t help wishing for something to tie us together.
Once we leave this office, there’s only the short car ride back to the hotel, then there will be no reason to see each other again.
Maybe we can stay in touch, exchange emails and video calls, maintain a long-distance friendship.
More likely, Alex will want to distance himself from the mistake we almost made.
After all, it’ll be a lot harder to reconcile with his ex-girlfriend if he’s still friends with his almost-husband.
“So you’ll have to talk to the clerk.”
Alex’s relief is short-lived. He blinks at the employee, then looks at me, as if he needs me to translate.
“If we’re not married, why do we need to speak to the clerk?” I ask.
“Well, you’re not technically married yet.
With online marriages, the clerk has to review all the documentation, including the application, the government identification for both of you, and the marriage ceremony video supplied by the company.
If all of that is approved, your marriage will be official. ”
“Can we ask them to ignore it?” Alex asks. “Tell them ‘never mind.’”
“I don’t know,” the employee replies, shrugging and offering his empty hands to show his lack of solutions. “That’s why you’ll have to talk to her.”
“Can we talk to her now?”
“I’ll have to check if she’s available,” the employee says, typing something into the computer.
Alex looks like he wants to crawl over the counter and storm the office door.
I reach for him, though I don’t touch him yet, my hand hovering over his hip.
After a few seconds, the tension in him uncoils, and he leans toward me, naturally seeking support.
It’s taking all my willpower not to close the distance between us, wrap him up in my arms, and hide him away from all his worries.
“Alright, it looks like she’ll have some time for you this morning, if you want to take a seat.”
Alex’s mouth is screwed up too tight to release any words, so I thank the employee and nudge Alex toward the chairs farthest from the counter.
He slumps down into one, rests his elbows on his knees, and drops his head into his hands. “Fuck, this is going to take longer than I’d hoped.”
“Are you worried about work?”
He nods and runs a hand through his hair, mussing his curls. “I hate being late, and we have no idea how long this will take.”
“Maybe you should call off,” I suggest gently.
He grimaces and tilts his head toward me. “I haven’t called off in like, a year.” At my surprised look, he explains, “I take vacations, I just don’t call off sick unless I literally can’t get out of bed.”
“Because you don’t want to inconvenience anyone?” I ask.
He sighs and shifts his position to lean back in the small plastic chair instead.
“Yeah, and because I hate the way work piles up. I probably have two meetings today, a dozen emails already waiting in my inbox from the early birds, plus paperwork to approve. It’s not very impressive, but it’s work that needs to get done. ”
“I think an accidental marriage is a good reason to take a day off.”
He’s quiet as he considers that, then he pulls out his phone and types up a message. It doesn’t take long for him to receive a reply. He stares at it for a long time, brow furrowed.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
That snaps him out of it, and he slips his phone back into his pocket. “They said to feel better. I don’t know what else I expected.”
“What do you do?” As we talk, his fidgeting settles, like he needed something to concentrate on other than the wait.
“I’m a Purchasing Manager.” His lips lift into something that barely resembles a smile.
“It sounds fancier than it is.” His knee bumps against mine and stays there, a hint of his presence.
I don’t know if it’s an intentional move or if he’s naturally drawn into my space.
Any time we’re this close to each other it’s a struggle not to touch him casually.
The young employee finishes with his current client and calls out to us, “Alex, Euan, the clerk has time to speak with you now.”
Alex grabs my hand and squeezes it once before he stands up. “Let’s go get unmarried.”