Accidentally Married

by Roberts, Emma

  He hilted himself inside of me, his entire body shuddering as I clenched around him. I could feel him filling me with his seed, nearly more than I could take. I didn’t want to consider the implications of not using a condom; it didn’t matter in that moment. All I wanted was to feel beautiful. If our time on the island was anything like the sex on that table, then maybe he would have better odds at winning the bet than I’d thought.

  I knew that I would have to be careful. I had no idea how he felt about me, and I didn’t want to be a fool and fall in love. Yes, he had said something about a date, but a date wasn’t the same as marriage. I was well aware that he felt we should do this another way. He felt we had rushed our relationship, and I would be a fool not to agree with him. However, after he made love to me on the exam table, my mind was mush. All I wanted was to enjoy having this amazing afterglow from our sex.

  8

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Archer

  When I went to work the following morning, there was no masking my smile. I could feel the contemptuous stares of some of the nurses, but I couldn’t find it within me to care what they thought. Maybe it had been unprofessional – as a matter of fact, I knew without a doubt that I’d not been professional the day before. That was another thing I couldn’t bring myself to care about.

  The ring still shone on my finger, and before leaving the room that day, Tiffany had taken her own ring out of her pocket and slipped it on her finger. The cheeky look she’d offered me would remain in my mind for an eternity, I was sure. Either way, as she left, I could only guess my coworkers had scrutinized her to the tiniest detail. The nurse who’d done her first exam, whose name I couldn’t quite remember, approached me with a slightly seductive smile. At least, I was sure it was intended to be seductive. I raised a brow at her, not sure why she was stopping me on the way to my office.

  “If you’re worried about your wife finding out about what happens around here, you don’t have to worry,” she began, reaching out to touch my chest. None of my coworkers had been as bold as actually touching me before, and I might have expected some sort of spark or inkling of pleasure. Instead, I felt disgusted. It was as if I were truly cheating on my wife, even though Tiffany and I weren’t even dating. Seeming to notice the disdain on my face, the nurse continued. “You could have given us a warning ahead of time, Dr. Archer. Do you really think she’s as loyal to you? She probably wouldn’t care if you had a bit of fun… after all, she wouldn’t even take your last name. If I were your wife—” she raved, her eyes glinting with excitement before I interrupted her.

  “You’re not my wife. You will never be my wife. Do not even entertain the fantasy. Am I understood? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do,” I gritted out, slipping past her and trying to brush off the spot where she’d touched me. It felt dirty somehow, which was probably irrational. Irrationality didn’t bother me anymore, though. I’d been experiencing so much of it recently. The night before, I’d imagined what it would be like to hold Tiffany in my arms as we drifted off to sleep. How warm she would be and how complete I would feel. The bed had felt impossibly large, but I’d been soothed by dreams of the woman who had taken up occupancy in my mind.

  She was my first thought as I stepped into my office, striding toward my desk and booting up the old computer. The entire system was due for an upgrade, but the owner insisted the practice hadn’t gotten to that point financially yet. Though I brought in plenty of high profile clients, the other doctors in the practice had much less work. Patients were so insistent upon seeing me, in fact, that I’d be booked out months ahead of time, and people would wait until they could have me do the job instead of someone else. Of course, that wasn’t always possible, but I could only do so many jobs in one day and thereby only bring in so much profit.

  I wondered for a moment why my father was never happy with me. It had been something I had gone through even before my time in medical school. As far back as I could recall, my father would put me down. It wasn’t something that I normally liked to focus on. I knew these thoughts would lead to nothing more than frustration. I realized that I‘d tried to please my father throughout my whole life and had, most of the time, failed him. At least that was what he told me all of the time. But I don’t think I’d failed him. I was very successful in my field, and I had plenty of high recommendations from past patients. I was helping people too…people who were not happy with their bodies. So how was I a failure? I shook my head and refocused my thoughts on what I was doing.

  I was fortunate enough that the old desktop was current enough to read my emails without any difficulty. After exchanging email addresses, I realized Tiffany was more serious about the homework than I’d expected. It was as if she wanted to know every detail about me, even as far as my surgical history – which, for the record, I’d only had my tonsils removed. We’d been messaging each other until the early hours of the morning, and in the process, I’d learned more about my wife as well.

  She lived in a small apartment, made what she considered a meager income, but was willing to sacrifice a higher paycheck if it meant she was doing what she loved. The parents were insufferable, from what she told me, and she hadn’t been able to see her dearest friend for some time. The story she told me about said friend and her family was rather entertaining, vaguely similar to our own. A doctor and a patient falling for each other, although I was a bit envious that they’d had the chance to actually date. I was considerably less envious of the accidental pregnancy, but from what Tiffany had told me, they had adjusted well.

  Unbidden thoughts of having a son or daughter entered my head, and I tried to dismiss them as quickly as possible. There was only one thing I was sure of, and that was that I would be a much better parent than my own father. It was highly inappropriate to be thinking about Tiffany in such a way, however, especially so early in our…relationship, if it could be called that. I was growing more enchanted with her every passing day, but she wasn’t as transparent about her feelings. She had agreed to the bet, however, and that was the most important thing.

  Looking over my emails, I considered that I should tend to job-related messages before entertaining myself with additional conversation with Tiffany. But legally, she was my wife, so I didn’t feel too bad when I opened the first email of the morning. I smiled as I read her complaints about how little she had slept and her gentle teasing that it was my fault. At least, I hoped it was gentle teasing. I offered her an apology, answering the latest question about my father: “Has he always been such a dickhead?” I chuckled even as I tried to formulate a reply, fortunate to have found someone who could make me laugh so easily. The idea of seeing my parents and Jasmine was considerably more tolerable with the knowledge that Tiffany would be by my side. Sighing, I managed a reply about how my father hadn’t always been so cruel. No, he’d never been what one could call supportive, but he hadn’t been outright vicious until I’d chosen what to specialize in. I had to stop myself from mentioning Jasmine, my last conversation with my father making me shudder in disgust. I wouldn’t ruin what I had with Tiffany over my father being a dirty old man, though she would have nothing to worry about. If he so much as looked at her strangely, he would be swallowing his teeth.

  The passion and certainty of that thought caught me off guard. I’d never been violent with my father. Even as a teenager, I’d simply taken whatever abuse he dished out. I wasn’t even feeling violent over the idea that he was fooling around with my ex, though it was a revolting situation all around. Tiffany just seemed…different. More special, in a way that I couldn’t quite define beyond the fact that we were married.

  Shaking off my own thoughts, I perked up when I received an email. It seemed to be a forwarded message, however, and my heart caught in my chest as I considered what the contents could be. Tiffany wasn’t cold or cruel, though she could be calculating. But what if she’d sent an email that she didn’t mean to? What if it was some conversation with a man she was actually seeing, someone she
wasn’t indulging in some silly bet with? I frowned, unable to stop myself from opening the message. It was crude and vulgar, but not in the way I’d expected. I briefly glanced at prior conversation and snorted upon realizing that this was an email she’d sent her friend from work.

  Reading it with a smile, I only clicked away when she sent another email, explaining that she hadn’t meant to forward the email. Her explanation was laden with profanities, and I laughed aloud when I realized she was typing these messages while sitting in front of a classroom full of fifth graders. I noted it was a bit funny that she would send such messages, including the one she’d forwarded, while at work. I didn’t expect an immediate reply but continued to laugh when I received one: “You’re just as bad, reading them at your job.” I considered presenting the argument that her job was a lot more delicate than my own, making some joke about the corruption of the city’s youth, but I belatedly noticed that she had continued the message after a few paragraph breaks.

  My eyes widened as I took in her words – a question that should have been relatively innocuous and she truly had every right to know. “What happened with the last girl you dated?” I could have warned her that part of the reason I wanted her to come to Maui was because my ex was going to be there, but I realized this news wouldn’t be well received. I could have told her all of the terrible things Jasmine had submitted me to, but I didn’t want to sound like I was whining. I scanned my brain for something, anything I could say that wouldn’t be upsetting. Truthfully, I was probably more upset than she would be about the situation, but I shook that thought away and managed to put together a message explaining that I didn’t quite feel comfortable talking about my ex

  I should have looked through work emails while I waited for her to reply, but I’d just been idly staring at the screen until she sent another email for the last hour or so. I was wrapping up before my trip to Maui, anyway, so there couldn’t have been anything particularly exciting in the messages. I found myself waiting with baited breath, expecting Tiffany to laugh off my dismissal, say something about what a bitch my ex must have been. When my computer signaled the arrival of another email, I nearly jolted out of my seat. I hurriedly clicked to open the message, grinning as I began reading.

  My smile didn’t last long, however, and I could feel myself growing tense as I read through the message. She was angry at me. She was angry that I wouldn’t discuss my ex with her. I couldn’t understand why she thought it was so important – after all, she didn’t even realize Jasmine was going to be on vacation with us. A part of me was irritated at the demand that I elaborate, though she had obviously tried to phrase it so it wasn’t an outright order. Leaning back in my chair, I worried my bottom lip between my teeth. Maybe she thought I was still in love with my ex. I still had some lingering feelings for Jasmine, but I was falling head over heels for Tiffany! It wasn’t even comparable. I couldn’t tell her that I’d gone full sap, however, so I made another effort to explain that it was just a bad point in my life.

  Hoping she would let it go, I got up to grab myself a cup of coffee. It wouldn’t soothe my nerves; if anything, the caffeine would only agitate me even more. But I just had to step away from my desk for a moment. I took solace in being the only one in the break room, adding copious amounts of French vanilla cream to my coffee. I debated lingering in the break room to enjoy my coffee, maybe look over the newspaper, but realized I was being ridiculous. I had no reason to be afraid of Tiffany. She didn’t seem like the type to go completely crazy about a bit of privacy. After all, it was only fair that she respect my request to talk about something else. Nodding to myself with newfound confidence, I slipped out of the breakroom and strode back toward my office. Settling in my chair, I dawdled a bit before opening her reply. May I should get to those work emails…

  It was useless to try to ignore the nagging voice in my brain telling me to read Tiffany’s reply. It sat at the top of my inbox, with nothing insidious about it at all. Admittedly, I didn’t know the woman as well as I’d like to, but she didn’t seem the type to overreact and have a conniption over being told no. Rubbing my temples, I tried to stay positive as I opened the message. Staying positive wasn’t working as well as I might have liked, but it seemed that was with good reason. I couldn’t even stand to read the vitriol-filled email, wincing at the implications. Of course she thought I was still in love with my ex. What else could I have expected? A part of me reminded myself that she would be dealing with said ex, but a larger part insisted that she had no right to ask such questions. She didn’t even know she’d be dealing with Jasmine! She was just overreacting for reasons that made no sense to me. The woman was hot and cold, seeming as if she wanted to claw my eyes out one moment and then riding my cock the next. Glaring at the computer screen, I tried to ignore the thought that maybe there wasn’t potential for an actual relationship here. She was beautiful, witty, and I loved the time we’d spent together, but for her to react like this was completely unacceptable. I could feel my blood boiling; my fingers clacked at the keys to jab out a reply before I really had time to think. I almost felt like I was back in my old life with Jasmine. The hot and cold feeling I was receiving wasn’t something I enjoyed one bit.

  Clicking send, I gasped for breath as I grabbed my coffee. I drained the rest of the cup, casting another glare at my computer before leaping up to grab another cup. The nurses in the hall gave me a wide berth as I stormed out of my office, my brain sparking and sizzling from anger. I should have known that the coffee would only give me anxiety, but I’d needed some kind of distraction.

  The audacity of that woman! All I’d requested was the slightest bit of respect, and she couldn’t even give me that. All she wanted was to take! I’d given her a piece of my mind, making several valid and irrefutable points. I smirked, wondering how she would reply to my pointing out that she wouldn’t tell me why she wanted a boob job so badly. She’d mentioned that men weren’t interested in her because of her breasts, but with her insistence, it was pretty obvious that she had a particular man in mind. Why else would she be so desperate? After all, she’d agreed to spend two weeks with me in Maui just so I’d do the procedure. Two weeks of me fawning over her and doting on her, and even if she lost the bet, all she’d have to do was agree to a date with me. It was almost like she was already entertaining some sort of crush on me. It didn’t really make sense otherwise.

  Staring as the coffee machine filled my cup, my breath hitched. It didn’t make sense. It made absolutely zero sense whatsoever. Either she had an inkling of feelings for me already, or she was so desperate to catch this mystery man’s eye that she’d spend two weeks with a stranger just to appeal to him. Whichever option was true, I was forcefully pushing her back into the arms of this other man for no logical reason. Sure, there was no reason for her to get angry over my refusal to answer, but at the same time, making such implications about a man she was obviously enamored with was too reminiscent of my father’s brand of cruelty for me to be comfortable.

  Dumping the coffee, I rushed back to my office and slid into my office chair, in a hurry to read her reply and try to do some damage control. Except…there wasn’t a reply. Hunching over my desk, I stared at the computer like it had forsaken me. I was tempted to send another passionate email filled with apologies, but jumping the gun like that didn’t seem smart. That was how I’d screwed up in the first place.

  Thinking reasonably about why she had yet to reply, I recognized that she was at work until at least three. She’d told me that from time to time, she stayed as late as five tying together loose ends and tidying up. It made sense that she had been messaging me during a break in her lecture, and looking at the time, it was possible that her lunch break had simply ended. It was possible…wasn’t it? It didn’t seem likely, but I couldn’t afford to jump to conclusions. Sighing, I resigned myself to a day of office work. I did have a lot to finish up before the trip, after all. Pushing the gorgeous woman to the back of my mind, I zoned out as much as I c
ould and went through my emails, replying appropriately to each.

  In the back of my mind, I was entertained by the idea of sending messages like the crude ones Tiffany sent while on the job. I was having a harder time banishing her from my thoughts than I’d expected. No matter, I’d gotten a bit of work done, and it was only…five. It was five. She should have answered by now. Even if she’d had to stay late, she would have sent a cursory message to let me know how she felt. She probably would have bitten my head off, but at least it would have been something I could work with. As it stood, I could only stare balefully at my empty inbox for a long moment.

  Remembering I had her phone number in case of “an emergency,” I grabbed my cell phone and scanned for the right entry. She’d put a heart emoticon on either side of her name, and my heart twisted painfully at the sight. Taking a calming breath, I called her. I wasn’t sure whether she would answer or send me straight to voicemail. I tapped my fingers anxiously on my desk, glancing at the clock and cursing myself for my bullheadedness.