8. Collie #2
“You’ve had a rough couple of days,” she said. “All that stress is probably catching up to you.”
“I think you’re right. It’s been a lot, and it’s all happening so fast that I can barely process it. I can’t believe I’m about to marry someone I just met, and that I’m having major surgery in just a few days.”
“Just remember, we’re all here to help you—me, and Yolanda, and Miller. He’s a great guy, and definitely someone you can count on.”
“He’s amazing. And kind. And hot. He’s exactly who I hoped to meet when I moved here.
But here we are, getting fake married, and he’s planning on spending the next several weeks as my nursemaid while I’m helpless and dependent and needy.
What I want to know is, where do we go from here?
Once I’m back on my own two feet, what am I supposed to do, ask him out?
Like, ‘hey, I know I’m technically your husband, and I know you’ve seen me looking horrible and pitiful, but like, want to grab a coffee sometime? ’ That sounds completely nuts.”
She grinned and said, “Maybe don’t phrase it like that. And don’t overthink it. You’ll know what to do when the time is right.”
“You’re right, and I don’t even know why I’m talking about this.
It’s like, number six hundred and forty-two on my list of concerns.
” I got up and arranged my ruffles to make sure the ugly heart monitor was out of sight.
“I’m sorry I’m such a disaster. I don’t usually spill my guts to people I’ve just met. But apparently I do marry them.”
JoJo smiled at me and got up, too. “Let’s go have a drink—unless that’s not allowed with your heart condition?”
“Alcohol is on the very long list my doctor gave me of things to avoid. I’m also supposed to cut out caffeine until my glitch is repaired. That’s the true tragedy in all of this.”
“A mocktail it is, then.”
I followed her through the house, which was cozy and eclectic. It didn’t prepare me for the backyard. As we stepped through the door at the back of the kitchen, I murmured, “Oh wow, this is stunning.”
It was twice as big as I’d expected it to be, because they’d taken down the fence between their yard and the one belonging to a little white house directly behind it. A brick path meandered past small trees, pretty water features, and flower beds blooming in vibrant colors.
“Isn’t it great? Yolanda and I got married out here, too.”
“Which one of you has the green thumb?”
“Neither of us. Two of our former tenants did all of this.”
Just then, we both turned toward the sound of laughter. A bar had been set up at one end of the patio. Daria was mixing drinks, while Miller chatted with a petite brunette and a handsome South Asian guy, who had a little blue parakeet on his shoulder.
Miller looked amazing. He’d changed into black loafers and dress pants, a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled back, and a royal blue vest with black piping.
When he turned his back to me to place his empty glass on the bar, I whispered, “Sweet Virgin Mary and the donkey she rode in on.”
No, not a vest. He was actually wearing a corset of sorts, which was laced up the back. It accentuated his already perfect body, his big arms and broad shoulders contrasting with his narrow hips and slender waist—which was now extra-snatched, thanks to that stunningly sexy garment.
It was so sexy that I started to get turned on. As my pulse sped up, I half-expected the monitor to shock me like one of those anti-bark dog collars.
Miller hurried over to me with a smile while I took a deep breath. “Hi, Collie. You look great.”
“So do you. Seriously. I love the corset.”
He seemed embarrassed. “This is the first time I’ve worn it. I impulse bought it a few months ago, because of a reel on Instagram. I don’t even know why I did that.”
“I do,” the guy with the parakeet said, as he joined us.
“You wanted to prove to yourself that you were still sexy and desirable after your jerk of an ex dumped you. Mission accomplished, hottie!” He turned to me with his flawless smile and stuck out his hand.
“Collie, I presume. I’m Vihaan Khatri, but everyone calls me Vee. And this is Clementine.”
As we shook hands, the little bird blurted, “What the fuck,” and flew from Vee’s shoulder to mine.
“That’s the only thing he says,” Vee explained. “It’s pretty much an ‘I am Groot’ situation. Want me to get him off of your shoulder?”
“No, let him stay. He’s the perfect accessory for my pirate shirt.”
Daria and the petite brunette joined us, who introduced herself as Yolanda Gutierrez. Then Daria grabbed me in a hug and said, “Good to see you again, Collie.”
Once she let go of me, I muttered, “Sorry if my heart monitor poked you.” Everyone looked concerned, so I assured them I was fine.
Miller guided me to a seating area and said, “Get comfortable while I make you a virgin sangria.” Of course he’d committed the entire list of things I couldn’t have to memory.
“Which is what, a glass of juice?”
He smiled at me. “With fruit floating in it.”
After Miller brought me the drink, I asked Vee if it was okay to give the bird a treat. He said it was fine, so I fished a thin slice of apple from my glass and offered it to Clementine, who relocated from my shoulder to the coffee table and dissected his prize.
Everyone took a seat, and we chatted about the city and the neighborhood until the wedding officiant arrived. He was all-business, starting us off with some paperwork and collecting his fee before asking, “Where do you want to do this?”
JoJo suggested gathering in front of a flowerbed framed by two flame-red Japanese maples, so all of us got into position. She and Vee both took out their phones, one of them filming while the other snapped photos. I hadn’t expected that, but I was glad someone was documenting it.
The ceremony was short and to the point. I tried not to think about the vows too much, because they made me feel like a fraud. My soon-to-be-husband held my hand throughout all of it, and when the officiant told us we were married, Miller leaned in and planted a quick, chaste kiss on my lips.
That was followed immediately by more paperwork and several signatures.
Then the man handed us one of the two sets of forms and said, “This is your copy. I’ll file the other set at the county recorder’s office in the morning.
Have a good evening, gentlemen.” With that, he hurried off to his next shotgun wedding.
I was in a bit of a daze as I muttered, “Well, that was certainly…”
Miller finished for me. “Efficient.”
“Exactly.”
“We got what we needed, though,” he said, as he held up the form. “I’ll bring this to HR first thing tomorrow morning, to make sure they have enough time to process the paperwork for your insurance.”
“Thank you again Miller, for all of this. What do I owe you for that guy’s fees?”
“I got it, and you don’t have to keep thanking me. Are you hungry? I thought it would be nice to have dinner delivered, as a thank you to our hosts.”
He ended up ordering enough Italian food for a dozen people. We ate outside around a picnic table, but I just picked at my pasta. Even though I was happy to get to know my new friends, I was also tired and emotional. I felt like putting on my most comfortable pajamas and hiding in a blanket fort.
The meal concluded with cannoli, and with coffee for everyone but me, who got a glass of milk like a five-year-old.
After Miller helped his neighbors pack up the leftovers and stick them in their refrigerator, he picked up a small to-go box and said, “I think we’re going to call it a night.
Thank you again for everything.” There were hugs all around.
Mine were awkward and off-center, to avoid mashing the monitor into everyone’s chest.
Daria walked out with us and asked Miller, “Want me to pick you up tomorrow, since you’re going into the studio and your car’s out of commission?”
“I forgot all about my car, and I’d love a ride tomorrow.” He turned to me and said, “I’ll text my mechanic and ask if he can make a house call in the morning. I’ll also ask him to tow your van to his garage after he unhooks our bumpers, so you should take out whatever you need tonight.”
“Why would he take it to the garage?”
“Because you need new brakes.”
“I’m not sure I can afford that.”
“Consider it a wedding present.”
“But—”
“Don’t argue,” he said. “It’s not safe to drive in its current condition.”
“Those brakes got me here from Idaho, didn’t they?”
“And then they failed on the first hill you came to.”
Daria interrupted us by saying, “I’m out of here. Congrats, newlyweds. Enjoy your wedding night.” If only. She headed down the sidewalk to wherever she’d parked her car while we crossed the street.
The cat was waiting for us when we got inside. Apparently she’d been sitting by the door, just so she could leap up and shun us by turning her back and stalking away. The nerve of us for leaving the house without her.