Married At First Sight

by Mia Carson

  “Cunningham?” she gasped.

  “Uh huh,” Lana replied, grinning from ear to ear.

  “As in Vincent Cunningham? As in the damn billionaire who’s supposedly running for Congress?”

  “Yes, that’s the one. He also runs an oil company and owns several cattle ranches,” Lana added, pointing to the screen. “He is quite the man.”

  She nodded but immediately shook her head and pushed away from the counter. “No, no! I can’t do this. It’s insane, completely and utterly insane.” She crossed her arms and padded around the living room, wishing her eyes would stop glancing back at the man’s face with that smoldering look and those lips—lips she bet had kissed at least a hundred women and left them wanting more.

  Lana caught up with her and stopped her, placing her hands on her twin’s shoulders. “Honestly, Natalie, what have you got to lose?”

  “Isn’t there something illegal about acting like someone else when you get hitched?”

  “Eh, it’s not like you’re after his money or something. It’s a binding, confidential agreement. If you’re found out, the worst that will probably happen is you have to pay a fine and get a divorce right away, and sign some gag order,” Lana added and her eyes narrowed. “I don’t think they would throw you in jail.”

  “Lana!”

  “I’m kidding. Just do it, please? Or at least talk to the man before you decide. You don’t have to say yes right away.”

  Natalie groaned, her face dropping into her hands. “I hate you. I absolutely hate you.”

  “I’m going to take that as a you’ll think about it,” Lana said cheerfully. “I’m going to bed, but I’ll leave that laptop sitting right there in case you decide to, you know, reply to his message.”

  Natalie looked at the clock on the stove. “At one fifteen in the morning?”

  “We’re not the only night owls in Houston. See you in the morning!” Lana kissed her on the cheek and skipped—literally skipped—into her bedroom. Her door closed, and Natalie was left alone with her laptop and his face watching her.

  Tugging on the sleeves of her oversized sweatshirt, Natalie stalked past the counter, picked up her beer, and trudged to her bedroom. She focused on the papers she needed to grade, but every few minutes, her fingers would stop and she imagined a life not in this apartment. A life with someone else in it. With a man in it she could find some companionship with and chase the ache away from her heart. By two in the morning, she gave up on her work.

  “Screw it,” she whispered and tiptoed to the kitchen.

  Her sister’s bedroom door was still closed, thank God. She picked up the laptop and carried it to the couch, settling between the overstuffed cushions. The message box was at the bottom of the screen, blinking with one message yet to be answered. The inbox filled half the screen, leaving Vincent Cunningham’s face visible, and she read through his words: Allow me to introduce myself, Lana. My name is Vincent Cunningham. I have been a successful businessman since the age of twenty-one when I inherited the two Cunningham family businesses. Based on your profile, I believe the two of us could be quite the compatible couple, and I do hope you take my proposal into serious consideration. I am also currently putting together a campaign to run for Congress next year, and having a wife by my side would help me in more ways than one. If you would like to ask any questions of me, please don’t hesitate to message me. I look forward to meeting you.

  Natalie leaned her head back against the couch. He was going into politics. She abhorred politics with a passion. She was a science nerd, an astrophysicist in the making, and a sci-fi geek. How was she supposed to pull off being the kind of woman he needed to stand by his side at rallies and during dinners? She would have to take it all seriously—very seriously—and Natalie was not good at being serious. Before the accident, she might have composed herself better, but now? She was nearly as scatterbrained as her sister normally was, not to mention her piercings and tattoos were certainly not what any good voter would expect to see on the wife of their next Congressman.

  She reached up, ready to close the laptop, when that nagging voice started again in her mind. She moved the cursor to the dialogue box. Her fingers tapped against the keys for a few seconds before the words she wanted popped into her head: It’s very nice to meet you, Vincent. I am happy you reached out to me and am curious about what situation led you to decide finding a wife through this website was a good choice for you. Not to judge, just simply curious. And of course, if you have any questions for me, please feel free to ask.

  She hit send and reached up to close the laptop when a ding sounded. “He’s awake right now?” she muttered as she stared at the dots on the screen, indicating he was responding.

  She read the first message briefly: I don’t mind you asking at all.

  “Oh, God, what did I just start?” She picked nervously at the cuffs of her sweatshirt, waiting for his second message to appear. As she waited for the words to come up, she walked to the fridge for a third beer, figuring it was safer to get it now than wait, and plopped back down just as the ding sounded again.

  Her eyes passed over the words: I tried dating over the years, but I never found the right woman for me. I don’t want that to sound as pathetic as it probably does, but I find myself at a crossroads in my life and going forward alone no longer seems appealing.

  “Hmm, sounds familiar,” she said as she typed the words without giving it too much thought. “I too have found myself alone lately, unable to find that right fit.” Her finger hit enter, and the second the words appeared before her, she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh shit.” She couldn’t open up to anyone but her twin, yet she had nearly spilled her fears and admitted her loneliness to a complete stranger.

  The dots appeared again followed by a new message: I have to admit I’m surprised. Your profile comes across as a very sociable woman.

  “Well,” she said as she typed, “appearances aren’t always all there is to a person. I guess I’m sociable when I have to be, but for the most part, I enjoy the peace and quiet of an evening with a good beer and good company. And I shouldn’t tell you that if you’re looking for someone to be by your side with the campaign.” When she went to hit enter, she paused. That was the truth, and if she was going to attempt to be with this man, she owed him at least that much truth since she her name and her true self would be hidden. “I’m sorry you wasted your time with me,” she added and hit send.

  “Wasted my time?” Vincent murmured, sitting up closer to his computer at his desk. “What does she mean?” He watched to see if she would say anything else before his fingers set to work, hurrying to explain to her he hated the dinners and other shit just as much. “That’s why,” he whispered, “I need someone there with me to help get me through them. To laugh and remember that it will all be over soon.”

  As the message sat on his screen, he anxiously awaited a response, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair as he rested his chin in the palm of his other hand. For a few minutes, he worried she’d gone offline, but the dots appeared and he breathed a sigh of relief.

  He hadn’t expected to be up this late, but waiting to hear back from this woman—his potential wife—left him restless and pacing around the kitchen with a beer in his hand. He worried Lana and he would have nothing in common, but he did know one thing: she was a night owl like him. He drank the remainder of his beer as the next message finally appeared. Sitting up, his eyes scanned the words and his heart warmed even more towards this stranger: You need a sanity checker? Okay, that I think I can manage. If you don’t mind me asking, why are you running for Congress if you don’t like everything that goes along with it? Are you sure you even want to run? And I promise I’m asking as a concerned citizen.

  After her words was a smiley face, winking at him. He felt her humor in those words and replied that he wondered that some days, too. He also told her she could always be honest with him about anything because honesty made a great foundation for a strong relations
hip. He wasn’t doing this just because. He was doing it so he could find a life partner and have a sliver of the happiness his parents had enjoyed while Liam was alive.

  They chatted for the next hour or so about their lives and her work. He asked if this would throw off her career, but she told him she planned to take a sabbatical this summer anyway, to get some fresh air and step away from all the suits she was constantly surrounded by. She would be his for the whole summer, which would match up perfectly with the twelve-week marriage trial. He was curious about what her job entailed, but she avoided his questions until, with lips pursed, he gave up and asked about her family. He couldn’t imagine her parents liking their daughter doing something like this, but she told him she wasn’t really close to her parents because they lived in Maine since retiring. She had one sister, but that was it. He let her know he was an only child and it was only him and his mother.

  “And all her new boyfriends,” he spoke as he typed.

  A few minutes passed before she responded again: That’s hysterical to watch, I’m sure. Sorry for the delay, had to grab another beer.

  He smiled, not about to admit he was worried when she didn’t reply as quickly as before. He was ready to type back another question when he caught the time. “Four in the morning? Damn it, I think I’m going in late today.”

  He told her he had to go and hoped to talk to her again if she was up for it. She said she was and wished him good night. Vincent logged off his computer and stretched as he stood from his chair. When he saw Billy again, he would have to thank the man for pushing him towards this. Vincent thought internet dating was the worst way to meet women, but everything about that three-hour conversation seemed so natural. A voice of doubt gave him pause, though. She could have faked all those answers, telling him what he wanted to hear, but he shoved the voice away. The only way to know for sure was to marry the woman and find out who she was for himself.

  He climbed the steps of his bedroom and flopped on the bed, his eyes closing when his phone vibrated with a new message. His hand searched the nightstand and held his phone over his face, showing him an e-mail from the marriage service.

  As soon as he saw the words, he smiled and stretched again with relief. They’d matched him with Lana Jenkins. All that was left now was for her to say, “I do” and become his wife. Mrs. Vincent Cunningham.

  3

  “I knew it!”

  Natalie jerked awake, her head spinning left and right as her blurry vision cleared and she wiped the bit of drool hastily from her mouth. “What? What happened?” She was on the couch in the living room with imprints of a laptop on her legs. Her head shot to the right to see her sister holding it, scrolling through the messages. “Shit! Give that back!”

  Lana chortled as she held it out of reach. “My, my, looks like you two got along famously.”

  “Through an internet chat box,” Natalie pointed out, still trying to make a grab for the laptop without breaking it. “Come on, Lana.”

  “Not until you say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “That I was right and you are dying for some interaction of the male persuasion.” Lana slid the laptop across the counter. “No one stays up until four in the morning unless they really like the person they’re talking to.”

  Natalie thought of arguing, but it was pointless. Talking with Vincent last night had opened a part of herself she’d locked away since the accident and the fallout from it. What was even more astounding, she remembered every single piece of that conversation in vivid detail. None of it was fuzzy or a blur. She could even recall exactly what Vincent’s face looked like without having to think too hard.

  “Fine, you were right,” she admitted, and Lana shrieked in delight. “But that doesn’t mean he’s going to want me as his wife.”

  The laptop dinged as a new e-mail popped up and Lana opened it. “Are you sure about that?”

  Natalie leaned down to read the message: Congratulations. You have been selected by Vincent Cunningham to be his wife, nuptials to take place this coming Saturday, May 12th. Do you accept this offer? Signed contract and other important documents to follow.

  “Holy shit,” she whispered and sank onto one of the barstools. “Holy shit, Lana.”

  “What? This is a good thing, right?”

  Her mouth fell open but only strangled sounds escaped. He liked her enough to ask her to be his wife. No dating needed, not actually meeting and seeing if they liked each other, nothing. “I think I’m going to hyperventilate.”

  Lana rubbed her back and rolled her eyes. “Stop being so overdramatic. This is a good thing.”

  “Until he finds out the truth, remember?” she shot back hotly. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  “Yes, you can, because I’m not letting you sink into that deep, dark hole of depression and cease being my fiery ass sister,” Lana snapped. Natalie stared at her in wide-eyed amazement. Lana was the calm one—eccentric and bouncy yes, but she rarely lost her temper. Her nostrils flared and she planted her hands on her hips. “You are going to do this because it’s the only way you’re going to remember what it’s like to be out there instead of tucked away in your little bubble.”

  Natalie’s hand slid across the counter to the cursor pad on the laptop. Not giving herself another second to think, she hit accept. “If this goes badly, you and your lawyer friends better get me out of it.”

  Lana grinned and hugged her so hard Natalie couldn’t breathe. “Enough with the negativity. Let’s find you a wedding dress!”

  “Oh, goodie,” Natalie groaned. Married. She would be married in a week. “Uh…hey, sis? Can we not tell Mom and Dad about this? At least not until we see what happens?”

  “Deal. You always used to tell Mom you’d rather elope, anyway.”

  “Yes. Yes, I did. Isn’t that what’s happening this weekend? It’s not going to be some huge production, is it?” she asked, panicking.

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you send a message to your future husband and ask? I’ll get my purse—and please throw on something besides a ratty sweatshirt and holey denim shorts.”

  Natalie mocked her sister as she walked away then frowned. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be at the office right now? Dealing with your big kid job?” She had to finish grading her students’ final before she was officially free for the summer. She couldn’t imagine her sister would suddenly take off the whole summer, too.

  “You told Vincent you, meaning me, were on sabbatical, right?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Well, my wedding is this fall and you know how much my bosses love me,” she said, poking her head out of her bedroom door and batting her eyelashes.

  “You actually are taking the summer off? How the hell are you going to keep your job?”

  “Like I said, they love me. I started there when I was twenty, remember?”

  Natalie grumbled as she typed the message about her fears of a big wedding to Vincent and hit send. “Cars. Shit, Lana! What about cars?’

  “You’ll have to get over it, sunshine!”

  “Get over it, right. Thanks for the advice that every single psychologist in the city gave me!” she hollered through the apartment before turning and walking into her bedroom. She tore through her closet, imagining her first time in a car with Vincent, watching him freak out as she screamed like a madwoman. Get ahold of yourself! You’re not that bad, she scolded as she pulled out a pair of jeans and a knit shirt. You just get extremely pale and shake uncontrollably, and sometimes you vomit. “Ugh, this is going to be terrible.”

  “You ready yet?”

  “Just give me one damn minute,” she yelled to Lana as she shoved her legs into her jeans. “Well, you’ve survived one wreck in your life. Why not go for a second?” Dressed and her hair pulled back in a messy bun, she found her purse and met Lana at the door. “Let’s do this, I guess.”

  Lana bounced up and down like a kid instead of a twenty-six-year-old woman. “Good, because we’re shopp
ing for my dress today too!”

  “Of course we are.” Natalie followed her sister out and locked the door behind her.

  Vincent looked up from his computer when Billy strolled in, grinning brightly as he clapped his hands. “Bravo. Look at you, big man.”

  “Can you close the door if you’re going to act like an idiot?”

  “Don’t tell me I embarrass you.”

  “You’ve always embarrassed me,” Vincent murmured. “I’m merely too nice to tell you that.”

  Billy closed the door and leaned against it. “I’m going to stand here waiting patiently until I hear those three little words. Words that I have never heard come from the mouth of Vincent Cunningham.”

  Vincent huffed as he stared at his friend, a single eyebrow arched. “You were right.”

  “Those three words that—wait, what?” Billy asked surprised.

  “You were right, and I’m not sure how I can thank you. Lana is amazing, and I met her because of you.” He strode to his friend and held out his hand. “Thank you, Billy, really.”

  Billy shook his hand and winked. “You are very well welcome, Congressman Cunningham.”

  Vincent’s chest swelled with a strange sense of pride at those words. “Not yet, but soon. With this woman by my side, I might manage to keep myself in check through all your political mumbo jumbo crap. I can’t imagine my Dad going through all that shit without Mom.”

  “And now you’ll have a wife equally as grand. The wedding takes place this Saturday, correct? Where do you want to have it and how many people? I know it’ll be difficult to get into some places, but with the right amount, we could make it work.”

  “Actually,” Vincent said as he held up his hand to stop Billy’s ramblings, “she asked if we could simply elope this Saturday. Her, me, and a witness.”