Married to the Enemy

by R. S. Lively

  I choke on a sob when I see a tear falling from his eye. His hand reaches for it, slow and shaking, and he wipes it away, looking down at it as if he’d never seen a tear before.

  “I haven’t cried since my dad died,” he whispers, wiping it away on the comforter.

  “Logan, we need to figure this out. I’m not ready for this.”

  He doesn’t say anything else. The silence in the room is haunting. He gets out of bed, walks into the bathroom, and slams the door, making me jump out of my skin. I hear the shower turning on through the door.

  I scurry around on the floor, gathering my clothes, and I put the dress on that I wore here. I slide on my shoes, but the ring takes my attention away from what I’m doing.

  It is absolutely beautiful. It’s a big diamond. I had no clue rings even came in this size. It has three diamonds, and the one in the middle is set sideways. It’s different and gorgeous, and I’d love to have this ring one day, but not today. I need time to think.

  Logan strolls out of the bathroom a few minutes later, towel drying his hair. He doesn’t say anything to me as he gets dressed and fastens his Rolex on his wrist.

  “Logan.”

  Nothing.

  “Logan!”

  “What!” he snaps, glaring at me like I’m the worst person in the world. “You want an annulment? Fine. I’ll have my lawyer contact you.”

  “No. I don’t know what I want. I need time to think is all.”

  “What’s there to think about,” he asks. “We love each other, don’t we? Don’t you want to be with me?”

  “Logan, it’s not that I don’t—” I choke on my words. I do love him.

  “Well, there’s the door. And here.” He tosses me five hundred bucks. “For the plane ride home? Because I’m assuming you don’t want to be anywhere near me for this ‘time’ that you need?”

  He is so mean. Don’t get me wrong, I know my reaction hurts him, but I haven’t been cold to him. “Logan, please understand.”

  “I understand I should have fallen in love with a woman my age, not with a damn kid still in college.”

  He buttons his cufflinks together on each sleeve. He chuckles slightly, shaking his head. “I thought you were different. I thought what we had was different.”

  “It is. It is very different. I’m just overwhelmed. Don’t be mean. Don’t be harsh about this. Don’t say anything that you’ll regret later.”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “Does it matter? We can get an annulment and never have to see each other again.”

  I gasp. My bottom lip quivers. His words are like an ice pick to the heart. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I don’t know.” He sighs, hanging his head. “I woke up, and for one moment I had everything I wanted. I woke up married to the only woman I’ve ever loved. I thought this was what you wanted, too. I thought this would make you happy, but if I’m not good enough—” He takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “It doesn’t matter. Anything we say right now will be out of emotion. If you’re going to go, go. I can’t—I can’t be in the same room as my wife. I can’t be so close, yet so far because I know you won’t let me touch you right now. You want space. And all I want to do is hold you, so if you’re going to go, please go. Take the money.” He walks into the bathroom again, shutting the door, and leaving me alone in the bedroom.

  I cry, holding onto my chest from the amount of pain slicing through my heart. I open the door and look back, but Logan is nowhere to be seen. I know walking out this door will be a defining moment for us, but I don’t have another choice. I do need time.

  My foot crosses the threshold, and before I know it, the click of the door sounds behind me.

  And I’ve never felt more alone.

  Logan

  After the I hear the door click, I open the bathroom door and stand in an empty room. The money is still on the bed, and the sheets are still messy. It’s hard to believe less than an hour ago, I was lying next to the woman I love. Now, is it okay for me to feel deserted?

  I grab the lamp next to the bed, pulling the cord from the outlet, and toss it toward the front door, yelling as loud as I can. Along with the bulb, the shade of the lamp shatters into a million pieces as it bangs against the door—kind of like how my heart feels.

  I pride myself on keeping my emotions in check, especially after my dad died. My heart shut down that day. The path for my brain to send reactions to my heart just stopped. But then Whitley happened. She slowly unraveled me every day. She peeled back the layers, just like the rose at the fundraiser.

  When she told me we got married, I expected a bit of fear and shock. It’s a huge thing, I’m not downplaying that. What I didn’t expect was full-blown panic. It ripped my heart out all over again, just like that day my father died.

  I don’t like feeling like this. I don’t like having my emotions controlled by someone else. I like to be in control with what I feel, and the only reason I let my guard down so much around her was because I thought she felt the same. I thought this was it. This was the girl. I wake up, married to my dream girl, only to find out she doesn’t want to be married to me?

  It’s a massive punch in the gut. The bed dips as I sit down, and I twirl the gold band around my finger. I take it off, inspecting the simplicity of it, when I notice something on the inside. It’s an engraving.

  You have my mind, body, and soul.

  I clutch it in my hand, digging the metal into my palm as I squish it with all my strength, but it doesn’t give. The indentation is deep, right in the middle of my hand. I slip it back on my ring finger, loving how it looks against my skin. Wearing it feels good. It feels right.

  Maybe I’m overreacting. She is younger than me by seven years. I’ve had my twenties to fuck up. She hasn’t. Is that what she wants?

  Or maybe she’s right. Everything has been such a whirlwind with Whitley, it feels like a lifetime. But we’ve only been dating a few weeks. She still hasn’t met my family, and I haven’t met most of hers. My parents were together for years before they got married.

  I thought she was ready. Like we were on the same page. I guess she wasn’t.

  I growl with frustration, running my fingers through my hair. Well, I can’t stay here forever thinking about it.

  “I’m not calling a lawyer,” I mutter to myself. If she decides she wants an annulment, she can come to me, other than that, we’re going to stay married, and we’re going to work this out because, for the life of me, I can’t see myself with anyone else. No one has ever made me feel this crazy and out of control. Maybe that’s why I wanted to get married so quickly. Maybe that’s why this hurts.

  I grab my keys and wallet and pick up the sheet of paper that says Certificate of Marriage on it. I clear my throat, trying to dislodge the bubble of emotions that creep up. I fold the paper up, tucking it into my jacket pocket, feeling the weight of it sink into my chest.

  There is no way I’m flying that plane today. I’ll go to the airport and buy a ticket. I’m hung over, heartbroken, and tired. The jet can burn itself to the ground, for all I care. I leave the cards for the hotel on the desk by the door and leave, and once I step outside, I swear I can smell the scent of her cucumber lotion.

  My phone rings and Frankford’s name flashes on the screen. “Hey, Frankford.”

  “Sir, you need to come home. It’s your sister.”

  Great. Just what I need. “What did she do this time? Did she land herself in prison?”

  “Well, she landed herself here, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Here?”

  “At the estate, sir.”

  “I’ll be there in a few hours.”

  “Yes, sir. What do you want me to do with her?”

  “I don’t know. Hand her off to Mom? If they get together, they might have fun and throw a party.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, sir.”

  “Listen,” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Whatever you do, don’t let her in my dad’s of
fice. I have a feeling I know why she’s back. She’s going to ask for money. Keep an eye on her. I don’t want one thing out of place when I get home.”

  “Will we be expecting Ms. Pope, sir?”

  The sound of her name squeezes my heart. “No. You will not.”

  The tone of my voice must have given way something. “I see. I understand. I’ll see you soon, sir.”

  “Bye, Frankford.”

  My mind is going back and forth as I descend the elevator. My angel and devil sit on my shoulder, bickering about what I should do about Whitley. One part of me is so deeply hurt, but the other part of me can’t shake the feeling that she was right. I shouldn’t have freaked out on her. I take a deep sigh, wondering how I’m going to get through this. Even if she wants nothing to do with me, I’d be faithful to her until the end of time. I feel that in my blood. She’s the one woman my father always talked to me about. He always said there would be a woman that changed everything. At the time I didn’t believe him, but here I am.

  And everything has changed.

  I step off the elevator and walk back down to the casino, heading down to the cage where we put all of our winnings in a vault. I’m going to take her winnings out and give them to her. They are hers, after all.

  A few minutes later, I’m holding a check for seventy-thousand dollars, made payable to Whitley Pope. Well, Whitley Stone now. Her name hasn’t changed legally, but damn if it doesn’t sound good rolling off my tongue. Shit, I want to be with her right now. Whisk her away on some amazing honeymoon vacation.

  I continue out the doors and walk until a cab comes into view. I open the door and hop in. “Airport, please.”

  “Hey! I know you! You’re the guy that got married to that freaking hot redhead! I was in the group that went out and celebrated with you.”

  You’ve got to be shitting me. I can’t even escape the memory for five minutes. I smile, putting on my best happy-just-got-married-face. “Man, I don’t remember much of anything. Thanks for being there.”

  “Uh oh. Is that why the wife is not with you? Accidental marriage?”

  Something like that.

  “No. She had a business meeting to get to. I’m flying home now.”

  “Oh, good. I hate seeing marriages that don’t work because they meet here and get married. I see it like three times a day. I needed some good news!”

  You and me both, pal.

  “Well, me and the redhead are blissfully happy. No worries there.”

  “Aw good. I hoped that was the case. I saw you guys and just knew that you got it right. It’s obvious how much you love each other when you look at one another.”

  Love is not the emotion that played in her eyes this morning, guy. “Yeah, we’re lucky. Thanks, man.”

  It doesn’t take long to get the airport from the hotel, and ten minutes later, I’m waving bye to my new friend, walking into the airport, and go up to the ticket counter.

  “I need a one-way ticket to San Francisco, please.”

  The lady smiles. “Wow, second one today. Although, the other girl looked like she had been crying for a while. Yikes, right? I hope it gets better for her.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and lean against the counter. Is this how it will be now? Will everywhere I go be a constant reminder of the lack of control I have? It’s about five foot three, one hundred and thirty pounds, and has long red hair.

  “Yeah, sounds terrible. Hope she figures it out.” Because I feel like my sanity depends on it.

  If only the lady knew how true that statement was.

  Whitley

  I slide the key into the lock and open the door in a daze. I want to get this damn dress off. I’m not even in the apartment yet, and Charlie runs and slams into me, giving me a big bear hug.

  “How was it? Tell me everything! I need details. I want to know it all.”

  I don’t have the energy to fight Charlie and let her drag me to the couch. Her bedroom door is open, and that’s when I see the familiar long hair of my brother laying in her bed. I arch a brow at her.

  “Nope, nothing happened. Okay, all summed up, now you go.” She sits cross-legged, sipping her coffee, waiting for me to spill the beans.

  I hold up my hand show her the wedding band. “I got married.”

  Mouth-warm coffee sprays me in the face. I nod my head. Yep, that’s about how well my day has gone so far, so I’m not even mad about it.

  “You what?!” she hisses, before getting up and closing her bedroom door, being careful not to wake Kyle.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Whit. I have all damn day. Spill.”

  I sigh, rubbing my eyes with my wedding-ring hand. “There isn’t too much to tell. I mean the ring speaks for itself.” I glance at her through tired eyes.

  She glares at me. She isn’t buying it.

  “Fine. We went to Vegas. He flew me out in his private jet. Yes, on top of everything else that is perfect, he can fly a damn jet. We get there, and he buys me more comfortable shoes. We play blackjack, and he is telling me how to play every step of the way. We were having so much fun. We had way too much to drink, and everything after like the fifth hand got blurry, and I don’t remember shit. Anyway, we wake up in his penthouse suite—that he owns—and I notice a reflection on the wall. I don’t think anything of it.”

  “Oh my god.”

  “Yep.”

  “You don’t remember getting married.”

  “Not even a little bit.”

  She winces and takes another sip of her coffee.

  Crap, I still have coffee on my face. “Yep, and well you can guess how I reacted. I panicked and freaked out. I mean, I’m only twenty-two, Charlie. I’m not ready for that. So, I wake him up, asking if he remembers, and he says no. Then, he gets this shit-eating grin on his face like he finally beat the last level in Dungeons and Dragons, or something.”

  “Don’t ever make that comparison again.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Continue.”

  “And he said he didn’t remember any of it either, and that he knows that we didn’t have the wedding I’d want, but that doesn’t matter, because he would give it to me.”

  “Aw, that’s so sweet.”

  “No, Charlie. It isn’t. He is like, ‘we’ll figure it out along the way.’ Like he isn’t shocked at all. Completely nonchalant about the entire thing. But not me, because we have only known each other for a month. And the commitment is huge. I didn’t think I’d have to think about marriage so young. I’m still working at a diner, for goodness sake.”

  “Only because you want to. You’re the one who dropped out of school.”

  “To help Tops!”

  She holds up her hands in defense. “I’m just saying. Don’t say you’re ‘just a waitress’. You’re capable of doing anything.”

  I lean my head back against the couch and stare at the popcorn ceiling. Wow, this place lacks the artwork that the Venetian has. “So, I tell him all this—”

  “Wait, you tell him that you don’t want it?”

  “No, I said I needed time to wrap my head around it. He is seven years older than me, Charlie. His life is already planned out and perfect. He is separated in little compartments. Mine isn’t. And I assume he would want me to sign a prenup. I bring that up, and guess what? He says no. He says for me to take it all if it meant not being with him, because the only thing that makes him happy is me, and then practically kicked me out of the hotel.”

  “Wow, yeah. Bet you felt like shit after that.”

  “You aren’t helping.”

  “I’m Sorry, Whit. But why wouldn’t you want to marry him?”

  “Whose side are you on anyway?” I cross my arms in a huff. “Look, I just—I do want to marry him. I do love him. I just wasn’t expecting that decision to be forced on me. I barely know him and now we made this whole commitment for life!”

  Everything spills over, and my resolve crumbles. I can feel angry, hot tears sliding down my face.


  “Hey. Hey,” Charlie coos, wrapping her arms around me. “Listen, sometimes you tend to overreact without thinking. Was getting married in your plans? No. Was getting married something you wanted? One day. Is this a stranger you married and didn’t love? No. So, that’s okay. When you get back in touch with Logan, you’ll figure it out. He may be some perfect, handsome billionaire, but he’s just being a dumb boy. He’ll come around.”

  I stare down at my feet, ashamed. “You think he’ll understand?”

  “He better,” she chuckles. “Or I’m going to take his private plane and shove it up his—"

  “Charlie!” I gasp, but then we both double over laughing. I feel it bubble up in my throat, mixing with my tears. I’m glad that she’s here for me.

  The laughter only lasts for a minute, though, before I have to tell her the other half of what happened.

  “I think we had unprotected, sex too.”

  “Jesus, Whitley. One thing at a time.”

  “I don’t know!” My freaking bottom lip trembles again, as tears fill my eyes for the millionth time today. “There wasn’t any evidence. I couldn’t find a condom wrapper or anything, and I didn’t feel any dried come on me, but that doesn’t mean anything. I mean, we did get married, so I would assume we consummated it.”

  “I doubt it, then. You’d be all sticky.”

  I twist my hands together in my lap, wishing that this morning didn’t happen. “I miss him, Charlie.”

  “You don’t have to miss him. It’s as easy as picking up the phone when he calls. And he will call. He’s crazy about you.”

  And I’m crazy about him, too.

  “My wedding anniversary is on Valentine’s Day. How cheesy and sweet is that?”

  “It’s disgustingly sweet.”

  “Right?”

  “Listen, I’m going to say a few things, and you can take them how you want. One, you need to shower, you smell horrible. Two, you could have drunkenly landed a worse man.”