by Imani King
No, I don’t. Now I’m stuck here feeling awkward and really just wanting to go home. We finish our dinner then go back to my apartment. He doesn’t ask, he just assumes that’s what’s going to happen. I know what he wants. Make up sex. He wants to end the breakup of us, but I don’t think I want to. I’m consumed with trying to figure out how to get out of this without making a scene. Maybe it’d be easiest just to give him what he wants then dump him once he goes home? No scene, no fuss, no muss, right?
I fumble with the keys in the door, so Roger grabs them and does it himself. I hate it when he does that. It’s smug and a total ‘I know what you need more than you do’ attitude. We walk in, and I put my purse down. I don’t want this. I’m going to say no. I’m going to end this with him right now. It’s not like he's being honest with me. He’s only owned up to cheating once, implied it was her fault.
Nope, I’m done. I’m better than this. Smiling, I walk into the kitchen and open the fridge to put my leftovers away. When I close the door, Roger is right there.
“So,” he says, leaning in close with his eyes half-closed and his lips pouting.
I take a step back. “Yeah, we should talk some more.”
“Abby,” he says, a hint of whining in his voice. “We’ve talked. I’ve apologized. You forgave me. What else is there to talk about?”
“I never said I forgave you.” There’s a hint of cold, icy rage in my voice, but somehow, Roger is not picking up on it.
“Of course you do,” he says moving closer.
I back up some more, but now I’m trapped between the cabinet and him. My stomach tightens as I realize how closed in the space is.
“You haven’t done or said anything I can forgive!” I say, my voice rising. My face grows red hot.
“Abby,” he says, moving in for a kiss again.
I side step around him and manage to slide past. My nerves calm somewhat when I dodge his touch—I’ve never been afraid of a man before, and certainly not of someone who is supposed to love me. But my heart is racing hard, and I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. He holds his hands out and walks forward, oblivious to my attempts to keep space between us.
“Roger, stop,” I say. “It’s over. You cheated. How long were you lying about all of this?”
“I haven’t lied,” he says.
“Really? How many girls did you cheat on me with?”
“It was just the once.”
“Somehow I don’t believe it. Your Facebook shows you with all these different girls. I thought they were your friends, but I was deluding myself, wasn’t I?”
His face pales and he shakes his head side to side.
“Look, it’s nothing right? I love you. Let me show you how much I love you,” he says, grabbing onto my arms.
The apartment door opens, and I look over just in time to see Eva walking in.
“Abby, guess who showed—” she stops talking, her eyes going wide and her mouth drops open seeing Roger holding onto my arms and leaning in to kiss me.
“Get your hands off my wife!” Kian yells, bursting past Eva and racing for Roger.
“What the hell?” Roger says, looking towards the door.
Kian grabs him by the shoulder, spins him, then punches him in the face. Roger cries out as he stumbles backwards then falls on the floor.
“Are you okay?” Kian asks me.
“I’m fine.” The shock of seeing Kian—and hearing what he said—mixes with the fear I felt when Roger was encroaching on my space. I feel faint, head swimming, and I catch myself on the side of the kitchen table.
“Who the hell is this?” Roger asks.
“Who the hell are you?” Kian asks, leaning in threateningly.
Roger scrambles backwards away from Kian. “I’m her fiancé.”
“Well that’s too bad. She’s married to me. You need to get the hell out of here now.”
Kian is here. My head is spinning, and so is the room. He’s here. It’s really him. He came for me! And I’m his… wife?
Shit.
It wasn’t real.
I only remember it in partial images. It was like a dream. The sand and water and the stars shining above us. His body pressed against mine while we danced. The man with the silver sequins on his collar pronouncing us man and wife. That was all fun, wasn’t it? It wasn’t… it couldn’t have been… real.
“Abby, what the hell is he talking about?” Roger asks while climbing to his feet.
I shrug, and gulp hard. The taste of salt and metal is thick in my mouth, and my pulse is racing, electricity singing through my body.
“I said get out of here,” Kian says, taking another step towards Roger and raising his fists before him like a boxer.
“Abby is this what you want?”
Numb, I nod my head.
I don’t know what or how he’s here, but I do know I want Roger to leave.
“Get the fuck out of here, Roger. I won’t marry you.” I cut my eyes at Kian. “Not in a thousand years.”
“But Abby—“ Roger backs away, holding his hand to his swelling face.
Taking advantage of his fragile state, Eva grab’s Roger’s arm and shoves him out into the hallway. “She said to get out. Now, go on before I kick your ass too.” She slams the door as Roger still looks on at us in confusion.
After the door closes, the apartment is filled with palpable silence. My body starts to shut down, and I lower myself to the kitchen floor, tears stinging at my eyes.
This isn’t the way things are. This isn’t real life.
But I get the feeling that it is.
It’s just not a life I’d ever imagined. Not in my wildest dreams.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Abby’s pale and shaking. Anger pulses through my veins. Anger that I wasn’t here sooner, that I let her go home without me, that I put her in danger. I don’t know who that man was, but if I see him again, he’ll regret it.
“So…” Eva says behind me. “What the hell is going on?”
Abby and I lock eyes, and nothing else matters. My chest expands, and I know she’s it. Things are right because she’s here. I don’t care what my brother, my parents, or even the people of my country think. This is what I want. Her. I’ll go through hell to have her.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice tight and tears in the corner of her eyes.
“For you,” I say. “I’m here for you.”
I walk over to her and pull her to standing. Leaning in, I kiss her sweet, soft lips. She’s cold at first, but I don’t let that stop me. She warms, and then our lips are moving together. She wraps her arms around my neck, and her body molds to me. My arms go around her waist and hold her close. We fit together, perfect. We belong.
“Uh-hmm,” Eva clears her throat, cutting through the moment.
We step apart and then everything feels awkward. I don’t know what to do with my hands. I want her in my arms but she steps back, and the small distance between us suddenly feels like a gulf as wide as that between our countries. I try crossing them across my chest, but that doesn’t feel right either. Finally, I shove my hands in my pockets and look around her apartment.
“Nice place.”
Abby snorts and looks at me in disbelief. “Yeah right.”
“What?”
She shakes her head, not answering me. She walks into the living room and sits down on a recliner. Following her, I take a seat on the couch as close to her as I can without being too obvious.
“Why are you here, Kian? It’s nice to see you, but what was all that stuff about us being married?” She tries to sound self-assured, but there’s a doubtful crack in her voice when she looks over at me.
“Well, there’s a situation,” I say, leaning back on the couch.
“What situation?”
Reaching inside my jacket, I pull the wrinkled marriage certificate out and lay it on the coffee table that sits between us. Eva takes a seat opposite of me as I do, and when I look up from setting it
down, she catches my eye. Something about the way she looks at me tells me she knows. She knows the truth of who I am.
Aidan. Damn it he must have told her who he was. Him and his sense of honor. Has she told Abby?
I raise an eyebrow at Eva and glance in Abby’s direction, and she shakes her head negative. Relief floods through me. I’m not ready for her to know. Not yet and not like this. She stares at me until I grit my teeth and give her a minuscule nod. We both return our attention to Abby who seems to have not noticed what just passed between us. Abby has the certificate in her hand and is staring at it closely.
“This was a joke,” she says. “A party thing. There’s no way someone would give a wedding away like that. That’s just… that’s fucking ridiculous.”
“That’s what I thought too. Apparently they do it all the time. It was advertised as part of the beach party, and we just didn’t read the signs or the damn website. Or, hell if I know. We got married.”
She looks up from the certificate, her eyes wide, and her mouth drops open.
“You’re kidding,” she says, sounding as if the breath has been knocked out of her. I understand. It’s how I felt when I found out this was real. I shake my head. “Well, we have to get an annulment. Like now. Like today. This isn’t part of our lives—Kian, this isn’t what you want.”
“That’s not possible,” I say. “I’ve talked to a couple of lawyers. And how do you know what I want?”
She ignores my question. “Why not? Why can’t we get it annulled? We could do a no-contest divorce if we were in the states. Why can’t we get an annulment? Like it never happened?” she asks, her voice almost cracking.
“Well, we’ve, uhm…” I trail off not wanting to say it.
“You consummated the marriage,” Eva says helpfully.
“Oh God,” Abby sighs, leaning back into the chair. She has the certificate in her hand and is still staring at it. This isn’t going well. “Well then divorce. We have to get divorced. Can’t we do that?”
“It’s an option,” I say carefully.
Eva looks at me sharply, but I ignore her. Abby is still in shock and doesn’t look away from the certificate.
“We can go to the States and do it. Kansas has a fast divorce process I think. That’s my home state. We can do it there.”
“That won’t work,” I say, shaking my head.
“Why not?” she says, looking at me for the first time since this started.
“It’s European law. We have to follow their laws,” I say. At least I think this is true when I say it.
I did talk to a lawyer, but he didn’t cover the idea of a divorce in the States. I want her, I want to be married to her, I need time to make her see this can work. And the lawyer did say we couldn’t have a no-contest divorce here like we could in the United States.
“Shit,” she exhales.
“Yeah, well according to the law we have to live together for six months in Gibraltar or a year in Scotland or my home country before we can file for divorce. Only then can we claim irreconcilable differences.”
“Six months!” she exclaims, shaking her head.
“Yes.”
We sit in silence while she thinks. Eva looks worried and keeps staring at me. Damn Aidan. Why hasn’t she already told Abby?
“Okay then,” Abby says.
“Okay?” I ask, unsure what she means.
“Well, if that’s what we have to do that’s what we have to do.”
Relief floods through and I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face.
“I agree,” I say, trying to sound resigned despite the fact that I feel more like singing. “Where do you want to live?”
“What?”
“Well, we have to live together, so the next logical question is where?”
“I have to stay in Scotland.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Eva says. “For your thesis—”
Abby raises a hand to stop her. “I’m not going to some random country—”
“You haven’t seen my home country.”
“I don’t know where that is nor do I really care! I’m about to graduate, and after that, I want to get my PhD in literature and write my thesis here.”
“So I have to drop everything to come live with you in Scotland?” I ask, a little irritated at the complete brush off.
“This was your stupid idea!” she yells.
“You didn’t think it was stupid when we did it.”
“I didn’t think it was real,” she argues.
“Neither did I!”
“I… you… argh!” she splutters, waving the paper between us like a sword.
She throws the paper then leans her head back and closes her eyes. She’s so incredibly sexy right now. My cock stiffens, and it takes all my control to not grab her and take her. The flush in her cheeks accents the honey tones of her skin, and her fast breathing is making her chest rise and fall fast. Fuck I want her. I want this to work.
“Abby,” I start but she holds up a hand without opening her eyes.
“Don’t talk,” she orders. “I need a minute.”
She breathes and I wait. Eva is staring at me, so I shrug. Eva shakes her head then stands up and leaves the room. Watching her go, I know I’m going to have to handle her. Figure something out. She can either help or ruin everything.
“Abby,” I say again. “Look, we can just do this right? I mean it’s not the end of the world. It might be good even.”
“Good?” her eyes fly open, and she leans forward. “What could possibly be good about this? This was a fling! You were a one-night stand and yet here you are, in my apartment, and I’m stuck with you for a year!”
“It wasn’t exactly just one night.” I pause. “Yeah, but hey, we had fun right? We could make the best of things and—”
“Are you dense? What? Have a year-long string of ‘one-night’ stands? We just forget each day that it’s all a sham? Pretend you actually care about me? Pretend we don’t both know how this would end up anyway? You cheating on me and leaving me sad and alone?”
I’m taken aback by her vehemence. There’s a lot more going on here than I understand.
“I don’t—”
“You don’t what?” she demands, standing.
She waves a finger in my face, one hand on her hip, her face a mask of anger. My hands move towards her, and I have to consciously stop them. I want to take her in my arms and hold her until she feels better. I want to take the pain behind this anger away from her.
“Look, that’s not me,” I say.
“Oh, so you think I’m the stupid one? I know what you are. Spoiled rich kid, bad boy, you mark your days by how many different women you can get into bed with you! You think I’m blind? That I didn’t know what you were?”
That hurts, bad. She cut me deep with that one, and I lash out. “You didn’t mind that back in Gibraltar!”
“Of course I didn’t! That was the entire point of you! It was supposed to be easy—fun. This isn’t the way this is supposed to happen.”
“Maybe I should go, guys—” Eva looks between the two of us and inches backward to the door. “I do think I have something to do back at school.”
“So you were just using me?” I ask. My voice comes out more pained than it should. Her words hit me like a dagger, and I barely acknowledge Eva as she puts her hand to the doorknob and turns it. Eva slips into the hallway and throws up a peace sign before she leaves.
“Like you were doing anything less? Isn’t this how you use girls all the time? You just don’t accidentally marry them!”
She stalks away into the kitchen, throws the refrigerator door open and disappears from sight behind it. When she stands up, she has a beer in her hand then slams the door. She goes to the cabinet and rummages through a drawer. Calming myself down, I walk over and take the beer from her hand. I twist the cap off listening to the satisfying sound as the pressure releases then hand the drink back to her.
“Sorry,�
� she says after taking a long sip. “I was out of line.”
“It’s fine,” I say. It doesn’t feel fine. But I can understand the reaction.
We both lean against the counter next to each other. She sips her beer, staring at the far wall.
“You want one?” she asks after a time.
“Sure,” I say, and she motions at the fridge, so I go and get myself one.
We sip in silence. I’ve had my time to work through my emotions on this, and I need to give her time too.
“This is real,” she exhales at last.
“Yup.”
“Shit.”
“Look, Abby, I know what you think of me,” I say, turning to her. I set the beer down on the counter and take hers away. Taking her hands in mine I look straight into her eyes. “I would never and will never cheat on you.”
She swallows hard as tears form. She tightens her grip on my hands and nods, biting the inside of her lips.
“Good,” she says. “We’re married now, you know.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I suppose we are.”
“For a year,” she stipulates, and it hurts. Deep in my core, it hurts bad, but I smile.
“A year.”
“I’m not sleeping with you,” she says. “This is all a mistake. That’s too real. You can make all the promises you like about not cheating, but we don’t need to confuse things.”
I hesitate in answering. I want her. I want to touch her, to hold her, to assure her that I want this. I want it for real—for the rest of my life, every morning from here on out. But there’s one thing you don’t do with a woman like Abby. You don’t impose your will on her. And I’ve skirted the line today. No wonder she’s hesitant.
“Okay,” I say reluctantly but seeing no choice.
I have to prove myself to her. She’s been hurt; I can see it. Was it that guy who was here? He seems like a pretentious prick. Gives me even more reason not to like him.
