Chapter Thirty-Four Euan
The Thursday after I return, Mom invites Calder and I over for a family dinner. So far, I’ve avoided telling them about both the break-up and my temporary marriage, but I can’t keep the secret forever.
When I arrive, my parents are busy in the kitchen.
Dad’s finishing up with the meat while Mom is transferring food to serving plates.
They work together flawlessly, anticipating what utensils the other needs and where they’ll need to be next.
Then Mom moves unexpectedly, crashing into Dad.
He scoops her into his arms and twirls her around, turning the mistake into a dance.
Her laughter fills the small space, overflowing into the rest of the house.
She finally spots me near the front entrance, and her smile somehow brightens. She calls out to me and extracts herself from Dad’s arms, bustling over to pull me into a tight hug. “How was your trip? I want to hear all about it!”
“It’s not that exciting,” I reply, hugging her back.
A loud snort from behind me warns me that Calder has arrived too. “Right, not exciting at all,” he says, low enough for only me to hear.
Mom releases me to pull him into a hug next.
“You mind setting the table?” Dad calls from the kitchen.
I latch onto the excuse, buying some time before the interrogation begins.
The brief respite doesn’t last long enough. As soon as we’ve all sat down at the table, Mom says. “So, you finally met Nick! What was he like? Did you have fun? Did you guys do any interesting sight-seeing?”
At least she chose the easiest place to start. “Actually, Nick and I broke up.”
Mom’s eyes widen and she slumps against the back of her chair. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t think …”
My phone vibrates with an incoming text. Knowing who it is, my hand twitches toward my pocket, but I redirect it to pick up my fork instead. “It’s alright. Things just didn’t work out.”
“Happens all the time,” Dad says. “I dated dozens of girls before I met your mother.”
“You did not!” She smacks his arm playfully. “Stop exaggerating.”
He shakes his head and bemoans, “She never believes me. I was a real heartbreaker back in the day!”
“Sure, a heartbreaker who could barely put two words together on our first date.”
“Only because I knew the moment I met you that you were the love of my life.” He turns and winks exaggeratedly at Calder and me. “But I couldn’t give the secret away.”
“Secret,” she scoffs. “You asked me to marry you after a week.”
“And you said yes.”
“You proposed after a week?” I ask. This is the first time they’ve ever mentioned that.
“And you said yes?” Calder adds, looking as baffled as I feel. Apparently, it’s also his first time hearing that part of the story.
“I was surprised!” Mom says defensively. “When I realized what he actually asked, I immediately told him that I couldn’t marry a man I’d only known for a week.”
The words are like a sharp needle, jabbing me mockingly. See? No logical person would want to marry someone they barely know.
“So I told him to ask again in a month,” she admits.
“And she said yes that time too,” Dad adds, his eyes sparkling.
“Wait, I thought you guys got married because of me?” Calder asks. For some reason, he looks offended to discover that he didn’t rush their marriage along.
“That’s because of your grandparents. Your mom said yes, but they said ‘absolutely not. You can ask her again in a year.’ They changed their tune when they found out about you, though.” Dad grabs Calder’s shoulder and shakes him gently. “Our little matchmaker, helping the wedding along.”
“I got married.” The words are out before I fully mean to say them.
The reminiscing pauses as my parents stare at me in shock.
Calder leans back in his chair and watches me carefully.
Since no one says anything or asks any questions, I tell them the simple facts. “We met at a bar after Nick and I broke up. We had a few too many drinks, and one thing led to another—”
“Oh!” Mom covers her mouth to stop herself from interrupting further.
“But the officiant had apparently lost their ordination before performing the ceremony.”
“Offician’t,” Calder whispers, like he can’t help himself.
Mom glares at him until he raises his hands in surrender. Turning back to me, she asks softly, “So what does that mean, honey?”
I swallow roughly and force the words out, “It means the marriage is invalid.”
“Good,” Calder says.
“Calder!”
Even though he’s at the other end of the table from her, he ducks, as if her scolding is a physical blow he can avoid.
“What? It is good. They were already going to get an annulment, now they don’t have to worry about that expense.
” He looks at me for backup, but when I don’t say anything, his brow furrows.
“You were still getting the annulment, right?”
I can’t exactly explain that we walked in on our attorneys making-out, so I say instead, “We had some difficulty with our legal representation. After that, I thought …” I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. We weren’t on the same page. He’s happy the marriage isn’t valid.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Mom says.
“Drunk marriage,” Dad muses, gazing at the far wall. “I should have thought of that.”
“Ian!”
He shrugs unrepentantly. “What? It would have taken your parents right out of the equation.”
Since my family is distracted, I pull my phone out to check the messages Alex sent earlier. The first is a picture of a pot of simmering curry. The second is a text.
Alex
I forgot how much this makes when a certain someone isn’t here to eat it all.
At least you’ll have dinner for tomorrow.
And for the next week!
Mom clears her throat, drawing my attention back to her. Three sets of eyes are locked on me, and I realize I’ve been smiling down at my phone for too long.
“Is that your”—she pauses before landing on the only term she knows for him—“husband?”
“Alex. We’re not really married,” I remind her, setting my phone aside.
“But you’re texting each other.” She and Dad exchange a look. “So what does that mean?”
“He just wants to be friends.” When he first texted me, I couldn’t resist the temptation to keep the conversation going.
I thought it might taper off after a few days, but somehow, we both always had something new to say.
Every exchange has been light, friendly, not really touching on any serious topics.
We never talk about our temporary marriage or the casual sex.
Sometimes it feels like our whole relationship was rewritten as soon as the marriage was invalidated.
“That’s a good starting point,” Dad says, though his downturned lips imply some skepticism.
I nod, believing his words as much as he does. “I know. Calder told me to slow down, that I’m always rushing into relationships. Seeing things that aren’t really there.”
“It’s not bad advice,” Mom hedges. “But it takes two people to get married, and even if you were drunk, there must have been something there, right?”
Calder groans. “Can someone in this family please date like a normal person? Actually get to know them before proposing marriage?”
“You still have a chance to be that someone,” Mom says. “If you would date anyone at all. You’ve never brought home a single man, woman, or—” she pauses, brow furrowed. “What’s the term?”
“Non-binary person?” Calder suggests.
Another message comes in, but I ignore it this time.
“Yes, that’s it.” Buzz. “Though I’m annoyed that it’s two words.” Buzz. “It throws off the cadence—” Buzz. “Euan, can you please do something about your phone? It’s distracting.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll silence it.” But when I look at my phone again, the last message catches my attention.
Alex
The only way you’re getting—
That’s all I see before the preview cuts off. Frowning, I open the messages and scroll back to the beginning.
I see why this is your favorite shirt.
The next message is a picture of him wearing the T-shirt I left behind. It’s just a picture from the waist up, but I catch a glimpse of a bare knee. Did he send a picture of himself wearing my shirt and nothing else?
It’s super comfy.
The only way you’re getting this back is if you come take it from me.
Mom clears her throat, drawing my attention back to her. Three sets of eyes are locked on me. I have no idea how long I’ve been staring at his messages.
“What’d he do?” Calder asks, trying to lean over the table to see my phone. “Send you a dick pic?”
“Calder,” Mom snaps, shaking her head in exasperation.
“I think …” I look back at the last text, hoping I’m not misinterpreting it. “He invited me to come visit.”
“Like Nick invited you to visit?” Calder asks. “Only to dump you once you arrived.”
The reminder is like a splash of cold water. Nick never outright asked me to visit him. He hinted here or there that he’d love to see me in person but never actually issued the invitation. I was the one who suggested the trip, who planned everything.
Who was left sitting alone at the airport when he realized he didn’t want me after all.
“What did the text say?” Mom asks.
I summarize it for them, leaving out the details of the picture.
Mom clasps her hands together. “How sweet! He’s giving you a reason to visit.”
“That’s not an invitation,” Calder insists. “It’s just a passing comment.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Dad says. “We’ve already established that Calder is an anti-romantic.”
“I am not an anti-romantic!”
Everyone ignores him.
“I have an idea,” Dad says. “Why don’t you try surprising Alex?
Sure, maybe Calder is right, and Alex will be annoyed or upset about the surprise because he doesn’t feel the same way you do.
Or”—he holds up both hands, indicating he wants a dramatic pause without any interruptions—“he will be so happy to see you that you will know, without a doubt, that he wants to be with you.”
I expect Calder to interject with more cynicism, but he’s typing on his phone with suspicious enthusiasm.
“Are you still using my relationships to fuel your writing?” I demand.
“I’m thinking a Bluebeard-coded climax,” he explains, an almost feral brightness in his expression as he continues rapidly typing. “Where the protagonist tries to surprise his husband-to-be and instead finds a lab full of past specimens and notes on his current experiments.”
“Honey, no writing at the table,” Mom scolds.
I look at her in bemusement. “You don’t have anything to say about him trying to use me for inspiration?”
She shrugs. “I can only control so much.”
“In all seriousness.” Calder sets down his phone and locks eyes with me. “This is a stupid idea. No one likes surprises.”
“I love surprises!” Mom insists.
“No, you like spontaneous plans where you know exactly what to expect at every step,” he says dryly.
“You’re both encouraging him to waste time and money on this big romantic gesture that will most likely backfire.
Alex is going to be just another Nick, pulling away the second their relationship starts to become serious. ”
Doubt creeps in with each word. What if I visit Alex, and instead of bringing us closer, it’s what finally breaks us apart? I scroll up through the messages, trying to find anything solid that might push me in one direction or the other.
Except it feels like I’m scrolling forever, because somehow in the past week, we’ve already exchanged hundreds of texts.
Dozens of pictures back and forth. The only breaks in the long stream of messages are when one or both of us are trying to focus on work.
I never said it, but every message I send is a quiet declaration: I wish I was there with you.
And every message he sends back, every conversation he initiates when the silence goes on for too long, is a reply: I wish you were here, too.
“I’m going to visit him,” I declare.
Mom and Dad grin and wish me good luck.
Calder continues to look disapproving, but he doesn’t try to stop me.
By the end of dinner, I’ve already bought my plane ticket.