by Jolie Day
“Hope?”
“You know, that you could find your partner in crime, the one that makes you think the whole marriage plunge isn’t so scary. Someone who will push the baby in a stroller around Vegas with you, or hop onto the back of your bike with a little sidecar for the kids.”
She trailed off, getting distracted by something in a shop window. But the words stuck with me, and I was lost in the sight of her. In that moment, I knew she was right. More than that, it seemed remarkably clear that she was my partner in crime. I’d found her. Drunken logic figured I’d never felt that way in my life, and I might never feel so sure ever again. It’s like I wanted to seal the deal before I had a chance to wuss out and change my mind.
I noticed that what she was eyeing in the window was a diamond necklace, but there was a ring on display right below it that had the same style. I walked right into the store and bought it without saying a word to her. Then came back out on the street and stumbled down onto one knee.
The rest of it was still hazy, but I wish like hell I could remember exactly what she said or how things happened from there. But at least I can finally say I know the whole thing was my idea and it had nothing to do with citizenship.
“Earth to Wolf!” Clay snaps his fingers in front of my face. “It’s your turn.”
I snap to, blinking at the darts he’s trying to hand me.
“I think you’re right,” I tell them, still in a kind of daze. “I think I did fall in love with her. That night.”
The guys stare at me. Their faces carry the same mixed emotions they had when I first told them about the whole marriage thing. It’s probably the kind of thing they never expected to hear me say. Nobody’s grinning now. I didn’t expect it, either. But I can feel it now, and it doesn’t seem like it’s going anywhere. We sit in silence.
“At least you already got the wedding out of the way!” Eric then howls in laughter—half-pitying me, half-congratulating me.
Max grins. “You didn’t have to shell out tens of thousands of bucks on a big show, and now the whole thing’s taken care of.”
“Though, most people realize they’re in love before saying ‘I do.’” Vorn raises an amused eyebrow.
“Congrats, buddy.” Clay nods to me and raises his glass. “I guess you made the right decision after all. Good thing you didn’t listen to me.” He chuckles and the others join in, lifting their glasses, too.
“Except she doesn’t want to stay married, remember? She’s got the annulment papers signed and, in her possession as we speak. She’s in a hurry to get this over with.” I suddenly feel a sense of panic. For fuck’s sake. I’ve got to tell her how I feel, no matter how crazy it seems.
I push past Clay and the others, stepping out into the fresh air of the parking lot to get some peace and quiet. I half-expect the gush of a cool breeze to bring me to my senses, but it only makes me more certain. Charlie just might really be the one, and there’s only one way to find out for sure.
I pull out my phone to call her again, but there’s no answer.
20
Charlie
“Whoa.”
Nora’s sitting on the other side of my couch with wide eyes, staring off into the corner of the room. This must be the fiftieth time she’s said something to the effect of “whoa.” It’s not the most helpful thing in the world, but there’s not much else she can do. And it does make me feel less alone.
Finally, she softens into some sort of reason and turns to face me with a sympathetic smile. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m gutted. I don’t know,” I groan, hiding my face behind a pillow—one that I’ve been screaming into ever since I got the positive pregnancy test.
“I take it you haven’t told him?”
“No, he’s out of town on that business trip. And I doubt there’s anything he can say or do to help me figure out this mess.”
“What makes you say that? He’s the father after all. This is his mess, too. And how do you know it wouldn’t change things?”
I feel a little angry with her for even suggesting it, but I’m quick to swallow it down. Maybe it’s just the start of pregnancy hormones. Still, I don’t want anything getting my hopes up for nothing.
“He’s said repeatedly he doesn’t want a relationship, Nora,” I remind her resentfully. “The only reason he’d entertain the idea of not getting the annulment is to help me get citizenship, which has more to do with not wanting to lose his new procurement manager, I’m sure. Otherwise I’m just another girl he shagged and doesn’t want a serious relationship with.”
“So, you’re not going to tell him?”
I can already tell by the look in her eyes that she’s not in favor of this option. “Look, right now, I’m the cool girl who knows what this was—a sexual fling and nothing more. If I tell him and try to fish around for a way to make things different, I lose my pride and integrity. He’ll tell me what I already know, which is that this meant nothing to him. Hearing him say it out loud—even after knowing we’re legally married and I’m pregnant—will only break my heart.”
She stares off, seeming unconvinced. But she doesn’t push it. She’s never found herself in this situation before, so what does she know? Hell, most people don’t find themselves in this situation. Accidental pregnancy? It happens all the time. But I imagine the accidental marriage is more of a rarity. Facing both of those things within such a short span of time, very, very few people probably find themselves in—with their gazillionaire boss no less.
I run my hands across my face, feeling more exasperated with each passing second. I know what I want to do and what I should do, and it’s making it impossible to sit here with all the talking and thinking.
“I have to go back home.”
This pushes Nora past the point of being able to keep her mouth shut any longer. “Okay, Charlie, but that’s a hard no. I can understand why you’d feel this way. But you can’t run away from this.”
“Like hell I can’t! Not only can I run, but it’s the only clear solution. No matter how I feel about him, I’m only going to get my heart broken. If I just leave, I won’t have to face that humiliation. I’m sure my feelings will fade after time—as long as I don’t see him ever again. And he’ll never have to know.”
“You don’t think you’ll want your child to know their daddy?”
“Not if that daddy doesn’t want anything to do with them.” I scoff, already feeling angry with Joel about it.
Nora retreats into silence, but I can tell what she’s thinking. It’s the same thought I’m trying to avoid—the what-ifs. I don’t actually know that’s how Joel would feel. I’ve decided he will, without even giving him a chance. But it’s a chance I’m not willing to take.
The response I’m certain I’ll get is too much to bear.
“I’m not going to embarrass myself with a hope for anything different all for some slim chance that he’d surprise me and say things that go against everything he’s ever told me. I’m not going to risk it. I need to go home.”
A sadness washes over Nora as she accepts that I’ve made up my mind. She knows better than to try and talk me out of anything once I’m this set on it.
“I’m going to miss you,” she sniffles, holding back tears. “I knew you’d have to go eventually, but I thought I’d at least get another six months with you.”
I leap across the couch to hug her, which sends us both over the edge. We erupt into tears and then laugh at ourselves.
“All right, pull it together.” I sit back and wipe away my tears. “You’ve got a date tonight, and you’re going to destroy your makeup.”
She nods and wipes her cheeks, too, still laughing at herself. “I don’t have to go if you don’t want me to. I can stay here and keep you company. You shouldn’t have to be alone right now.”
I don’t want to tell her that I’m already planning to start packing the minute she leaves. I’ll book the first flight back and have Nora ship the rest of my things later
. It’s not like I have much, anyway. If she knows I’m leaving so soon, she’ll want to stay and take me to the airport. But I’m worried that’d make it too hard to leave, and it’s already difficult enough as it is.
We hug and say our goodbyes, even though she’s still convinced we’ll meet up again before I go. I’ll deal with that outburst when I FaceTime her from London. But first I have to tell my mum about all the trouble I’ve gotten myself into in America. I’m sure word of this will get back to Mrs. Loughty, too. I will now forever be known as the woman who came to the United States and got knocked up with her boss’s baby.
It all feels like a bad dream as I cram as much as I can into my luggage. With my bags packed, I take a cab to the office and ask them to leave the meter running. Thankfully, it’s late, and, I know no one will be there to catch me packing up my desk, along with the annulment paperwork and ring.
I imagine Joel will assume my reasons for running have to do with the whole annulment thing. I’ll let him have fun puzzling over that one on his own, though I have the sneaking suspicion he’ll be relieved and quick to forget about me altogether.
Once my small box of things is all packed up, I hear someone rustling around in one of the nearby offices. I assume at this hour it’s probably only cleaning staff, but I can’t be sure. Quickly, I throw my bag over my shoulder and dart to the elevator. I can’t face anyone like this.
Walking through the airport, my chest feels heavy as I remember how hopeful I felt when I first came here. I was so sure I’d find a good job and grow my list of experiences and qualifications. I thought by the time my work visa was up, I’d have options galore for work back in London.
Now, I just feel sad. And stupid. Mostly stupid. I should have left when my last job fell through or when I got rejected for the twenty-plus jobs after that. It was a sign—telling me to pack my bags and run back home as fast as I could. If I had done that, I wouldn’t have ended up at Embry and none of this would have happened. I’m pathetic. I’m such a loser.
The distant dream feeling fades once the plane starts to take off. A steady stream of tears starts spilling down my cheeks. I know I’m saving myself a world of heartache, but it hardly feels that way now as everything inside of me is crumbling into a million pieces.
When the turbulence of takeoff hits, I brace my back against the seat and take deep breaths, closing my eyes. A reel of memories of Joel plays through my mind, which has been happening a lot lately when I close my eyes.
I remember feeling interested in him on the side of the road before I even knew who he was. The way he’d smiled down at me in the Embry lobby and how stern he’d looked during the interview. He was so irresistible later that night when we ran into each other at the bar. I can still taste our first kiss, even now. And when I close my eyes, I can still see his delicious, sweaty, tattooed body in the steam of the locker room. My God, how good he felt. And then how gentle he was when we made love.
But I have to remind myself it was never love—not for him. Not even close. The thought makes me sick. I reach for my bag to fish out some Dramamine, but in the process, I come across the ridiculous diamond ring Joel gave me. I remember how I kept trying it on when I got back home and cringe. I was so foolish for letting myself get swept up in the fantasy.
It was a rule of mine not to become disillusioned with men. My mum is strong, but I saw the distant look in her eyes every day growing up. I knew she secretly hoped and dreamed my dad would come back to her one day. She wanted it so badly. I knew if that impossibility ever came true, she’d probably take him right back into her arms without even holding him accountable for giving up on us in the first place.
Of course, he never came back.
And the older she got, the more she accepted it. I watched it break something inside of her. My poor mum. She really loved him, a lot. I feel something beautiful will happen to her, as a sign from the universe to balance out the wrongness he’s done to her. And I still believe it will. She will be happy (But the universe certainly takes its time on that one!). And so, I vowed to never let myself fall for someone that way. I didn’t want to waste my life longing for someone who could never love me back.
So, when men like Joel say things like “I don’t want a relationship,” I make a point to believe them. And now I’m angry with myself for wavering in my resolve, however brief it may have been. But the reminder of the truth I’ve always known does help me calm down a bit. I’m feeling stronger and more confident—and ready to sign the annulment papers. I’ll do it now and fax them back once I land.
But as I dig around in my bag, they’re nowhere to be found. I start sweating. No. No. I frantically search for them, knowing there’s no way they could have ended up in my checked baggage because my suitcase was in the trunk of the cab after I gathered everything from my office. Then I’m hit with the painful and vivid image of them sitting by themselves in the bottom drawer of my desk. When I heard someone coming, I bolted before I had a chance to grab them.
I had one job. Take the ring. Grab the papers.
Excellent work, Charlie—right on.
I stare back at the ring, wishing I weren’t confined to the plane so I could chuck it off somewhere. Out of the two things—I just had to remember this ridiculous ring over those papers, which were what actually mattered. Bravo.
21
Joel
I feel strange returning to my house after the longer than intended and more complicated than expected business trip. Normally, coming home is a relief in a way—a quiet pause to have some alone time, blow off steam.
Not long ago, before the Vegas trip, I remember basking in how much I enjoy my bachelor pad. But suddenly the house seems bigger and quieter than I ever remember it being before—like it’s missing something, even though everything’s exactly how I left it.
I toss my luggage into my room—not bothering to unpack it. As I walk through the rooms, wondering why I’ve got such a big house just for myself in the first place, I start switching on all the lights to chase away the cast of gray that seems to have fallen over everything.
I keep thinking—how does this whole fucking thing with Charlie work? If she was any other girl, I’d know what to do. I’d date her and maybe even take the plunge of moving in together a year or so down the road. That’s how these things work, right?
But of course, I had to fall for the one girl who comes with a lot of complications. Not only is she my employee, but we’re already married. Then again, if we hadn’t ended up getting married in Vegas, my stubborn ass might not have ever slowed down enough to see this thing for what it really is.
I’d have some clue of where to go from here if I could just talk to her, but she’s still not answering any of my damn calls or texts. She probably thinks I’m just worried about the annulment papers, or why she’s been out of work on sick days. But I don’t even know how to translate what I’m feeling into a voicemail or text. No, I’ve got to see her face and hear her voice. I’m sure I’ll know what to say then.
If she won’t pick up her phone, then I’ll just have to hunt her down. I change, climb on my bike, and ride into the city. I pass couples, some with kids and some without, on the streets and keep thinking back to that moment in Vegas that made me want to marry her in the first place—my partner in crime.
I’m going through some bodega flowers, trying to decide which one’s appropriate for the situation. Anne-Louise usually does this kind of thing, so I’ve got no idea which arrangement best says:
I know our marriage was an accident, but maybe we can keep things like they are and see where it goes?
P.S. I know we hardly know each other.
P.P.S. I think I’m in love with you.
While I’m trying to decide between red roses or pink carnations, my phone rings. I yank it from my pocket hoping it’s Charlie finally calling me back, but my assistant’s number’s flashing across the screen instead.
“Yeah?” I try to hide the disappointment in my voice.
“Mr. Embry…uh, I was just working on some of the IPO correspondence, and the attorneys informed me that the deal is off? Is this true?”
Damn it. I roll my eyes at myself, groaning at my own negligence to update Anne-Louise on the situation. I meant to do that first thing when I got back, but now I’m here buying flowers instead.
“Don’t talk to those attorneys anymore,” I tell her briskly. “We may start working with a new legal team. Either way, the deal isn’t over yet. Let me look into a few things and call you back.”
Knowing I can’t run around town with a full dozen roses on my bike, I decide on just one for now. That’s subtle and noncommittal, right? But who am I kidding trying to stay noncommittal? It’s official now—I can’t stop thinking about her, and I know my decision to marry her, however influenced by alcohol it might have been, came from genuine feelings.
Still, the single rose seems most appropriate for today.
I buy two of the roses with the second one in mind for my next stop, then climb back on my bike.
My mother’s home is larger than mine—more of a mansion, really. I’d feel bad for her living in this big house all by herself, but she doesn’t seem to mind. It was my grandfather who insisted she live in something so big. It was supposed to be a house to raise a family in after all. Sure, my mother and I’ve had our ups and downs when I was a teen, but if I hadn’t been so committed to my crazy bachelor biker lifestyle, I might have lived here with her.
Her face lights up at the sight of me when she leans in for me to kiss her on the cheek, gratefully accepting the rose I bought for her—a peace offering for not making the time to visit in so long.
