Chapter 9
”The marriage will work,” he said, as though I didn”t hear him the first time.
For real though, why did he keep saying that?
I shook my head. ”There”s no way it will work. Here”s the plan. Monday morning, you and I head to the courthouse.” I held firm to that stance. ”We do our thing there—sign the dotted lines and file the papers. Then we go our separate ways. Nobody even knows what happened this weekend.” Honestly, not even the two of us. ”Let”s keep it that way.”
Sloan grimaced.
I didn”t like that grimace.
Then he pulled his lips to the side. Unfortunately, that look did nothing to thwart his curb appeal. Was it too much to ask that he not be good looking while we discussed ending our marriage?
”Here”s what I”m thinking instead.” He pushed his plate to the side and leaned in so he didn”t have to speak so loudly.
Given how this entire conversation had gone so far, I was fairly confident that I wouldn”t want to hear whatever he was about to say.
So, I also pushed my plate to the side. Leaned in and said, ”I already don”t like what you”re thinking.”
”If it”s the assets part of this, and you”re worried, I”m not out to get your stuff. I can have a lawyer draw up a post-nuptial agreement, so you”re protected,” he suggested. ”I don”t mind doing that. It makes sense.”
”You mean so you”re protected? I mean, it”s not like backup singers make the same cake as pro-football players.” Not even in the realm of the same number of commas and zeros on the checks.
He held up his hands like he was saying wait a second, but with his hands instead of words.
”I don”t know what your financial situation is,” he said. Dammit, he was genuine. ”But I want to be clear that I respect that what”s yours is yours. I, just, I want you to think about becoming comfortable with my idea. Don”t discount it without giving it a shot.”
I did one of my few parlor tricks and lifted my left eyebrow. I didn”t have many of those, but I could roll my tongue over both ways and roll my eyes so only the white showed.
I paused for five seconds, counting each of them out in my head.
”Okay, I”ve thought about it. We should annul,” I said.
Actually, then he rolled his eyes in what was clearly a mock defeat. Mock because there was no way a guy like Sloan admitted defeat easily.
His eye roll wasn”t a full all-white version like I could pull off—there was still pupil.
His phone chimed with an incoming text. This time, he glanced at the screen. ”I need to?—”
He held up the phone.
”You should take it,” I said. Whoever was on the other line could talk some sense into him, and then we could continue on with our annulment plans.
”Hey, Elliott,” he said into the phone, then paused. Frowned. ”No. How did you…” He paled. The way the color drained from his hairline to his beard line was really sort of impressive.
If it hadn”t meant he was one hundred percent freaking out.
”Are you okay?” I asked. That shade of white couldn”t be healthy.
”They know,” he said in a way that made my headache brew into a full migraine. ”All of them. Everyone. They know about us.”
”Who are all of them?” Like all of them, all of them, or just our close friends group, all of them? And what, precisely, did they know?
”The entire world,” he said, putting his finger over the microphone on the phone. ”They know we got married.”
I blinked away the surprise.
”No,” he said into the phone. ”That”s not…” He glanced at me with wild eyes. ”No. I know how it might look.”
Mad points for keeping his tone light as he spoke when he was clearly freaking the hell out.
Personally, I was in that odd calm before the storm. Like I knew the wind was about to blow me over, but right then, everything was A-okay, so I went with it.
But Sloan? Sloan was sweating.
Bet he wished right about then that he”d gone with a choice other than flannel.
”There”s no way anyone can know,” I whispered. Was I assuring him or me, or maybe us both? But there was no way for anyone to know what happened.
Tone still light, he clearly tried to keep his demeanor upbeat. But the frown lines around the edges of his eyes deepened.
That wasn”t good.
I toyed with the edge of my coffee cup, giving a sidelong glance to the salt and pepper shakers and how simple life was three minutes ago when we”d been arguing with them.
Cell still pressed to his ear, Sloan hadn”t said another word, blinking at his now-cold eggs, avoiding eye contact with me, and giving the occasional grunt in response to whatever Elliott said on the other end of the line.
”No,” he said into the receiver as he shook his head. ”That won”t work. Nope. You”re misunderstanding the whole thing.”
My phone dinged. I didn”t want to do it, but I glanced at the screen.
Angela: smthn 2 tell?
Angela was my best friend, and we told each other everything.
But if she already knew, what did it matter if I confirmed it right away or later? Of course, I would tell her once we got it all dealt with. The thing is that when we made it so nothing had happened, there would be nothing to tell.
”Social media,” he said under his breath, pointing at my cell. ”Check your socials.”
Time around me seemed to freeze.
Angela texted a browser link at that exact moment.
I clicked on it because, clearly, I was a masochist.
As soon as I clicked, I wished I hadn”t. Hoo boy, did I wish I hadn”t.
Because there on the Instagram page of the Vegas wedding chapel was a collage of our photos from the night before. A collage of our wedding with confetti graphics and a big congratulations sticker as a banner over the top of the online gallery.
My heart nearly stopped. The knowledge that I was toast smacked me right upside the head. Figuratively, that is, since I only had pancakes on my plate.
Now, it was my turn to sweat, and I wasn”t even wearing a flannel.
A vision of Sloan straddling me on the bed slid right into my consciousness. That feeling of him inside me made my heart race and my core tingle.
Ack, I couldn”t think about that. Not right now. This was crisis time, not the time for my brain to throw around steamy memories.
I focused on the post. A post that included congratulations and our full names. Oh, look… someone had tagged our accounts and the Denver Stallions football account.
Dear God, there were hashtags.
And this was Sloan Stevens, so people knew who he was.
I clicked over to my account and sucked in a huge breath. Huh, this was weird.
My follower count had more than quadrupled, and the numbers were going up by the second. The little singing-in-the-living-room videos I made for fun were spreading. The one from last night had reached first-level viral territory.
Bonus, social media land was actually being nice.
Who is this person and why doesn”t she have a record deal?
Where”s she been hiding?
Next year, she”ll be singing at the Mega Bowl.
This could be… could it be? I mean, this could be that big break I”d been waiting on.
I glanced at Sloan.
Could I do this? Gah, no, I couldn”t pimp myself out for a coupon code to fame. That was wrong.
Then again, the damage was done, and we could let this thing roll.
My longest marriage was to Dan, and it had lasted barely over two weeks before he served me with papers. Maybe if I broke that record, I could call it a win?
Grr, that wasn”t how things worked.
Unless it was how they worked.
Carefully, Sloan clicked off his phone and set it down like it was made of dynamite. Then he lifted his gaze to me and time started up again. In a good way that I wouldn”t think about at all.
”What if—” I had a great thought I was ready to pounce on. ”You and I stay married.”
The way his eyes widened with simple shock was worth the price of admission. ”Huh?”
I nodded along with my thought process now that I”d climbed on board his crazy train. ”Let”s let it happen for a bit. After a few weeks of pretend relationship time, our breakup can devastate you. In the meantime, my social media presence will grow, and maybe I”ll get that big break. I’ll finally be on the map. Nobody loses.”
He shook his head, adamant. ”Two weeks isn”t long enough to prove my reliability or get you solidly pinned on that map. Why put a deadline on it? I mean, I think this could work for us. Long term.”
Was he for real? A person didn”t accidentally get married to a pro football player in Vegas and then stay married. Did they?
”Just think about it?” he asked. ”No deadlines, just us making it work.”
Perhaps Sloan was right and having him as my perpetual plus-one might save me a bunch of headaches. Future headaches because the current one was a hell of a doozy.
”If we”re going to do this, then communication is absolutely key. We have to treat this as a partnership and say what needs to be said. Not worry if it might sound bad or hurt feelings. Don”t you think?” I asked. ”We just get it out there so we can deal with it. Whatever ”it” is.”
”Agreed.” He flashed a wide smile that I”d do nearly anything to see again. ”The problem with every relationship I”ve ever been in has been that women don”t straight-up say what they want from me. I have to guess, and I”m not a good guesser.”
”Okay, so, first, that”s incredibly sexist to group all women together like that. And second, you”re in luck because I have no problem telling you what I want and what to do. I”m extremely efficient like that.”
”Apologies for the comment I made that came across as sexist,” he said. ”I should”ve clarified my statement to ”all my former relationships.” Though they were all with women, that isn”t a point that matters.”
”See? Look at that. We can totally do this. You screw up, you apologize. You clarify. I think that this could be rule number one in our marriage.”
”Does it go both ways?” he asked with those damn puppy eyes of his. ”You also apologize and clarify?”
”For sure.” As if I”d need to.
”Everything will be under control,” he said. ”It”s the perfect marriage, if you ask me.”
”One thing, though,” I added, holding up my one-more-thing fingertip.
”Hit me.” He gave me the go-ahead gesture.
”I think we should be married, married,” I said, raising both eyebrows in hopes he understood.
”Agreed,” he said with a quick nod. ”Married, married.”
”What I mean is I enjoy sex,” I added.
”I also enjoy sex,” he confirmed.
”Maybe we need to be sure we”re compatible that way?” I asked, because it”d really be a drag if we weren”t bedroom compatible, but we were stuck with each other.
As if my brain had it all queued up and ready to roll, a memory of the feel of him moving inside me and my legs wrapped around his back played through my thoughts.
”We”re compatible that way,” he said with confidence, as though he”d had the same memory at the same time.
”Great, I want to have sex. I think we should have sex.” I grabbed my water glass and took a gulp.
”I love sex. Sex is great,” he agreed. ”Love it.”
I choked a bit on the water because I should clarify that I meant sex with each other.
Not that I didn”t understand why open marriages worked for some couples. I just… I didn”t like to share. Never had.
”But only with each other?” I confirmed. ”I mean, I think we should keep it to us, don”t you? I don”t want to hear that you”ve been playing the field while you”re away playing the game.”
”Maya, I don”t want variety. I”ve never wanted variety. I just… I hate the unspoken expectations that I”m supposed to guess at,” he said. ”I don”t like to guess.”
”Then no guessing here.” None.
”Does it go both ways?” he asked the same question from moments before. ”We both stay inside the marriage? I don”t really love the idea of you being on tour and?—”
”For sure,” I answered, the same way he had before.
”I have to live near Denver. For the team,” he said. ”Is that a problem for you?”
I shook my head. ”I have a small apartment in Los Angeles, but I travel a lot when there”s a tour, so it doesn”t really matter where I”m based.”
”We”ll both be traveling a lot,” he said.
”That”s probably what will make it work even better,” I said with a laugh. ”The best part is that I think I could really like you, Sloan.”
”I could really like you, too, Maya.”
”And there”s no risk of falling in love,” I added.
”None.” He nodded along. ”We”re not falling in love.”
”Because that”s what complicates everything,” I agreed.
”And if there”s something we want to know from each other, then we ask. Something we need to have from each other, we ask, yeah?” he said.
Sloan studied me as I studied him.
”And if we need to re-open any of our foundational rules, then we just have another salt and pepper talk,” I suggested.
He smiled in agreement.
”There won”t be any misunderstandings,” he said. ”Because we already know the rules.”
”No expectations, because they”ve already been laid out,” I said. ”Agreed, Mr. Stevens. Let”s do this.” I put my hand out to shake his, but he didn”t shake it.
Oh no, he took my hand and lifted my knuckles to his lips, pressing a kiss there.
I shivered, which was silly because my whole inside somehow became warm at only that kiss.
”Deal,” he confirmed.