Marrying My Neighbor

by Roxy Reid

  Except my marriage does need saving. And I couldn’t save it.

  The silence is ticking on a beat too long, and Lisa’s face has sharpened from genial-interviewer to reporter-who-senses-a-story.

  I think of all the people counting on my book to save their relationship. I think of doing the TV special and telling millions more that my theories can fix their relationship, and if it can’t be fixed, it’s their fault.

  Suddenly, I realize I can’t do it. I can’t go through with this anymore. My breath comes out in a relieved woosh. I feel lighter, just from the decision to tell the truth.

  “Grace?” Lisa prompts.

  Here goes nothing.

  “Actually, my husband and I have separated.”

  There are gasps from the audience, and one choice swear-word I think came from Nora.

  “We got married too soon, on a whim in Vegas.”

  “We’ve all been there,” Lisa says with a wink. The studio laughs, grateful for a break in the tension.

  I could leave it there, but I owe it to Sean to get this off my chest. I owe it to myself, too.

  So, I continue. “The tactics in my book really are great if both people want to save the relationship, but you do need that window when both people want to save the relationship. My partner put himself out there so many times. He was brave when I wasn’t. Generous when I wasn’t. Willing to make mistakes when I was paralyzed by the need for perfection.”

  Lisa nods, her eyes kind.

  “By the time I was ready to follow my own advice and invest in saving my relationship, he’d given up on me. Understandably. So, if I could make a change to my book, that’s what it would be. I’d say, ‘Your relationship can be saved if you both want to save it.’”

  “I think your compassion speaks well of you,” Lisa says. “But if I might push back on that. You got married, what, two months ago? Surely there’s a reasonable expectation in a long-term relationship that you would both want to save the relationship. Or at least try longer than two months. Your book is built around this idea that it is worth trying. Surely, if you love each other?”

  Well, shit.

  I was hoping to do this gracefully, but now she’s gone and implied it’s Sean’s fault for walking away. It turns out that’s my line in the sand.

  You can say what you want about me. You don’t get to come after Sean.

  I lift my chin. “You are absolutely right in the context of a long term relationship, but that wasn’t what I had. What happened was I got drunk and married my best friend by mistake in Vegas. You can understand why that’s not a great look for a relationship therapist. Because he’s a good man, he offered to stay married for a while to limit the damage to my career. He behaved with nothing but integrity the whole time. So, when I say it’s my fault, it’s not graciousness or a figure of speech. I hurt him over and over again.

  “Sean and I actually got into a fight, early on, about whether or not the arguments in my book encouraged people to stay in bad relationships. I didn’t think so. Obviously, my advice does not apply to toxic or abusive relationships. But we are so vulnerable in our relationships with each other. Especially early on. The bulk of my professional experience comes from studying and working with couples in long-term relationships. You don’t drop a hundred dollars on couples therapy on someone you’ve been dating for a week. Or on the person you accidentally married in Vegas,” I say.

  Laughter ripples across the room.

  “I forgot how easy it is to hurt each other early on in a relationship and before there’s enough of a foundation to balance out the hurt. It’s okay to leave before a relationship gets toxic. You are not obliged to buy my book or start therapy. If one of you wants to leave, that’s enough.”

  My throat is tight. I blink against the sudden stinging in my eyes. I am not crying on national television.

  At the same time, I feel like I’m finally letting Sean go. I’m telling him that I don’t blame him for leaving. That I understand. That as much as it hurts me, I know he did the thing he needed to do to move on and be happy.

  I force myself to smile. “But, on the other hand, if you and your partner both want to save your relationship, I know this great book you can buy.”

  The crowd laughs.

  Lisa holds up her hand to silence them. “So, to clarify. You wrote a bestselling book on how to save a relationship, but it doesn’t apply to you because you got married by mistake and don’t love your husband?”

  My heartbeat slows. It would be so easy to hide. To say, yes, that’s correct. I was stupid and rash, but it’s not like I’m walking around with a broken heart. I know what I’m talking about. But she asked if I love Sean, and I can’t lie about that. He probably won’t see this, but if he does, I don’t want him to think for a second I don’t love him.

  “No. I love him. I love him very much.”

  Lisa hides her surprise at my answer. “Well, there you have it, folks. An unvarnished interview from one of the hottest self-help authors out there right now.”

  Lisa wraps up the interview with considerable grace, considering how far I went off-script. They cut to a commercial, and I stand to leave, eager to get off this stage.

  “That was brave,” Lisa says. “Not necessarily a great move if you want to sell your book, but brave.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “I think.”

  “I look forward to your next book,” Lisa says.

  “Oh, there’s not—”

  “There will be.”

  Lisa turns away to prepare the next segment, and I’m ushered off the set. I’m dimly aware of Nora desperately trying to persuade some people that I assume are the TV executives, but I know it’s a lost cause. I traded a TV special for the chance to set the record straight. I got to tell the world what part of my book was wrong. I got to get the fake marriage off my chest.

  I got to tell Sean I love him.

  As far as I’m concerned, it was a fair try.

  When I step outside, I breathe easily for the first time since Sean left.

  24

  Sean

  Has anyone ever told you that your gossip network is truly terrifying? How the fuck did you know I bought a house IN BOSTON before I told you?

  —Sean Bronson, text to his brother, Peter Bronson, a day after buying the house next to Grace

  “Sean, turn on the TV,” Peter says as soon as I answer the phone.

  I yawn and sit up in my hotel bed. “Why? Also, what channel?”

  I’m staying in a hotel until the papers are signed on my new place. I check the clock—nine in the morning. That’s, what, five in the afternoon in Galway?

  “Eleven. Just do it.”

  I find the remote and do what he says. Grace’s gorgeous face fills the screen. It’s like a punch to the gut. This is her big interview, I realize, the one she has to do well on to get her TV special.

  “I can’t watch this,” I say and start to turn it off.

  “No, you idiot, listen. Listen to what she’s saying.”

  I sigh. “She’s just talking about her book …"

  Then I hear Grace say, “I got drunk and married my best friend by mistake in Vegas.”

  I sit up in shock. What the hell? She can’t say that. The TV people are there. She’ll ruin her chances. She deserves that special, dammit.

  “Why is she saying that?” I ask, dumbfounded. “Why is she saying that?”

  “Because the reporter just implied you were an ass for walking out on your marriage after two months, and apparently, Grace isn’t about to let you take the blame for that.”

  “How do they know I left?” I ask. My eyes are glued to Grace. I’d like to think it’s because I’m shocked by what she’s saying, but the truth is, my eyes are pretty much always glued to her.

  “Because Grace told them.”

  “What?”

  “She also told them her book is partly wrong, and you were partly right,” Peter says. “I didn’t see the whole thing. Mary’s cousi
n in the states said your wife was going to be on TV, and Mary told Ma and me and who knows who else. So, come Christmas, you’re going to be explaining to half of Galway why you faked a marriage.”

  I can’t process this. Why would Grace tell the truth now, when she’s so close to the finish line? When she’s so close to getting everything she wants?

  Grace is still talking about my relationship with her. “I hurt him over and over again.”

  My heart hurts. She keeps talking about how it’s okay to leave and about how wanting to leave is enough.

  On the other end of the line, Peter sighs. “Well, there’s your closure, I guess. She’s telling you goodbye, and she’s fucking gracious about it.”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “Why the hell did you leave her?” Peter asks.

  Fuck if I know.

  “I didn’t want to get hurt anymore. Also, it just makes more sense to work on my next app from Silicon Valley …" I say, but I trail off. It all sounds like a pretty dumbass reason now that I say it out loud. Now that Grace is pouring her guts out on national TV.

  Why didn’t I wait? Why didn’t I hold on longer?

  “Do you think it’s too late now?” I ask Peter, my voice jagged.

  The audience laughs at something Grace says, and then the reporter cuts in.

  “To clarify. You wrote a bestselling book on how to save a relationship, but it doesn’t apply to you because you got married by mistake and don’t love your husband?”

  Grace pauses. You can practically hear the audience holding their breath. Or maybe that’s just me.

  “No,” Grace says, calmly and clearly. “I love him. I love him very much.”

  I drop the phone.

  “Sean? Sean, are you there?” Peter asks from my phone.

  The segment ends. I turn off the TV in a daze. I pick up the phone.

  “Yeah,” I say to Peter. “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “I think that’s your answer,” Peter says.

  My heart beats fast with hope and the thought of Grace. She loves me. It’s not too late. She loves me.

  “Peter, I got to hang up,” I say. “I’ve got another phone call to make.”

  Except, Grace doesn’t answer when I call. At first, I tell myself she must just have her phone off, but then she doesn’t answer me the next day, or the next.

  Meanwhile, it feels like everyone I know is sending me links to Grace’s interview. Some of them are teasing me about getting accidentally married in Vegas. Others just want to know if it’s true.

  Mum leaves a stern voicemail telling me to call her back and explain myself.

  I don’t want to do that until I’ve got things settled with Grace.

  I don’t want to do anything until I’ve got things settled with Grace.

  I call her again for the millionth time. Again it goes to voicemail. She’s either got her phone off, or she’s avoiding my calls. I can’t remember the last time Grace went more than twelve hours without checking her phone.

  She’s definitely ignoring me.

  I start to feel doubt creeping in. I did leave her for California, and then when she called me, I ignored her. Maybe Peter was right the first time. Maybe she was just saying goodbye and saying she forgives me. Maybe she thinks it’s time for both of us to move on.

  No. Screw that. Grace told me she loved me. She doesn’t get to just say that on national television and then hide from me. She has to let me give her my answer. Only she won’t talk to me.

  I slam my fist into the wall in frustration. How would she like it if the tables are turned? If I went on national TV and said that I loved her and then didn’t return her calls?

  I blink. Actually …

  If her friends are anything like mine, someone would see a clip like that and send it to her. Then she’d call me, and we could talk this out like grown-ups, decide we’re not getting a divorce, and fuck each other’s brains out.

  Not necessarily in that order.

  I grab my phone. I have Grace’s publicist’s number from when we were on the book tour. I call Nora, hoping she’ll be willing to help with anything that gets Grace more publicity.

  Three days later, I’m on a TV set in New York, the very same TV set Grace was on, in fact. I’m sitting across from Lisa, who’s looking at me like the cat who ate the canary. We’re on a commercial break right now, but as soon as the break ends, I’ll be going live on air to tell the world I love Grace Blackwood.

  Hopefully, she sees it. Hopefully, she thinks it’s romantic. Hopefully, she still loves me back.

  God damn this tie. I yank at it, trying to loosen it.

  Lisa is also wearing a tie, but she looks perfectly comfortable in hers. She raises an eyebrow at me.

  “You know, there’s no dress code on this show,” she says dryly.

  “Grace likes them,” I say. “At least, she said she did. Once. Oh, fuck, I’m an idiot.”

  “Don’t say fuck on air,” Lisa says.

  Then the cameraman cues us in, and Lisa launches into her introduction, her smile bright. Theoretically, this interview is about my decision to sell my last company and my plans for the new one, but Lisa and I both know what we’re really here to talk about.

  “My program would take Google searches for various medical symptoms in a given geographic area and cross-reference them with disease outbreaks. Over time, we’d be able to predict public health issues earlier than we can now. I’m also interested in seeing if there’s a way to apply that model to early cancer detection, but that’s a long way off.”

  “How interesting,” Lisa says. “What gave you the idea to shift from the financial world into medical?”

  “Honestly, no idea. I just woke up one day, convinced it was something I should be doing. Like I owed it to somebody.”

  Shit, I’m rambling. I clear my throat.

  “I’m also looking forward to the opportunity to help build something up. Before, my career focused on predicting when things would fail. I think that’s an important skill to have. But there’s also value in trying to roll up your sleeves and make the world a better place. That’s something I learned from my wife.”

  Lisa pounces on the transition, her eyes gleaming. “We actually had your wife, Dr. Grace Blackwood, on this show last week. She made some surprising claims about your marriage. I know this is a bit off-topic, but is there anything you’d like to say in response to her claims?”

  I crack my knuckles and look directly into the camera.

  Now or never.

  “Yes, actually. I’d like to correct her on one point. Our wedding might have been an accident, but that doesn’t mean our marriage is fake. Our relationship can be saved. And I love her.”

  The romantics in the audience are sighing happily. The cynics are rolling their eyes.

  I ignore them both.

  “Grace Blackwood, if you’re listening, I love you. I want to be with you. I’m sorry about California.”

  “Well, that was thorough,” Lisa says, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. “Anything else you’d like to say before we wrap up this interview?”

  “Yes,” I say. “I’d like to tell Grace to answer her damn phone.”

  After the show finishes, Lisa tells me to reach out again when my next company officially launches. She also wishes Grace and me the best and asks me to let her know how it works out.

  “My girlfriend’s book-club is rooting for you. Normally, they’re not particularly invested in straight celebrity relationships, but you guys are cute. Also, very weird.”

  “We get that a lot,” I say and leave to go take my mic off.

  The guy who helps me out keeps looking at me in wonder. “That was ballsy, my dude. Terrifying to watch, but ballsy.”

  “Not that ballsy,” a woman with a clipboard says as she passes through. “She already told him she loved him last week. He was just returning the favor.”

  “That was a whole week ago, and she’s been ignoring his calls! She co
uld have completely changed her mind!” the mic guy argues.

  “Thanks for the support,” I say dryly, trying to get my pounding heart in check.

  I hear footsteps and turn to see Nora looking at me speculatively.

  “Do you think that helped?” I ask her. “Did it mitigate any of the damage Grace did when she—”

  “Told the truth?” Nora supplies, and I nod.

  Nora sighs. “Yes and no. I think your interview will definitely sell more books. You’re rich, hot, and successful. You just declared your love for Grace on national TV. If nothing else, singles all over the country will buy the book to figure out how she landed you. An accidental wedding that ends in love is a lot more forgivable than an accidental wedding that ends in a lie to deceive the public, which means Grace may still be on track for a second book deal. There’s obviously no getting the TV special back, but we can always try again if she makes it to book number two. Apparently, she hasn’t lost any clients over the whole debacle. They love her, no matter what she does in her private life.”

  Nora says that last sentence with a frown, like she’s deeply confused by the concept.

  I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Grace is going to be okay. She didn’t get the TV special, but she’s still a bestselling author with clients who love her.

  “Thanks for setting this up,” I say and turn to go.

  “That wasn’t what I came back to talk to you about,” Nora says.

  I push down a sigh of irritation. The last thing I want to do is stand around, talking to Grace’s publicist. I just poured my guts out in front of the whole world. All I want is a cold beer and someplace quiet where I can sit and obsessively stare at my phone, waiting to see if Grace calls me back. But Nora just did me a huge favor. Also, Grace likes Nora. So assuming Grace and I get back together—dear God, please let us get back together—my life will go a lot smoother if Nora likes me.