JT clears his throat and the look he gives me is sincere, and it is a far cry from the scowl he was sporting earlier. “Relationships are hard work. They’re worth it, no fucking question, but they take effort and time and thinking about the other person.”
His words are part advice, part warning and they hang in the air as I hear the water turn off I pop off the bed, walk over to Fallon’s suitcase, and grab a fresh pair of leggings and a clean tank top. I pause before scooping up a purple bra and a matching pair of panties. A second before I make it to the bathroom door, it opens a crack and Fallon’s head pops out. She’s wrapped in a towel, hercheeks are flushed from the steam, and her hair is up in a messy bun. Without missing a beat, I hand over the stack of clothes and the smile she gives me makes me feel drunk all over again.
The door snicks shut again, and I turn back to JT, “You were saying?”
JT’s looking at me like he’s only mildly impressed by my show of husbandly duties right now, but by my calculations, I’ve been married for less than eight hours, and I was asleep for at least six of those. So basically, I’m just getting started.
20
Fallon
I’m about two seconds away from freaking the hell out.
I woke up next to a very naked Ollie Jablonski.
I’m still wearing his boxers.
There’s a diamond ring on the third finger of my left hand.
And Ollie made half a dozen social media posts announcing our newly-married status.
There’s no doubt that we got married last night, but I still have no clue what led us to the altar.
Ollie and his friends are on the other side of the bathroom door, but I know from the look on his face a few minutes ago that he’s just as confused as I am.
I need someone to help me make sense of all this. Someone to help me figure out what the hell to do because the only solution I can think of is to climb out the bathroom window and get the hell out of here.
But we’re on the twenty-fourth floor. And there’s no window in this bathroom, so that’s not a viable option. Picking up my phone, I debate watching one of the many videos Ollie posted, but instead, I tap my messages app.
Fallon: Are you awake? I need advice STAT.
Fallon: Oh my god. Why aren’t you answering? Shouldn’t you be chugging a protein shake and running on a treadmill?
Fallon: Please text me back.
After patiently waiting another two seconds, I give up on my SOS and decide that if my life is about to explode from the fallout of a marriage I barely remember, at least I can be clean while I watch in horror.
I put my hearing aids in their charging case and plug it in. Since I can’t wear them while I shower, they might as well charge a bit. I turn the water on, and then strip out of my borrowed clothes, and step under the spray, letting it wash away the remnants of last night’s makeup, and all the questionable decisions I made.
I mean, they have to be questionable decisions, right? After witnessing my dad’s controlling ways, I decided at a very young age that marriage wasn’t for me. But even if I were to consider walking down the aisle, there’s no way I’d want Ollie at the other end of it. That’s ludicrous. Absolutely batshit. Freaking crazy. We don’t even like each other. Do we?
As I rinse off my shampoo and coat my strands with conditioner, a memory clicks into place. In my mind’s eye, I can see us sitting at the bar drinking margaritas. I can see Ollie looking at me, his expression earnest as he apologizes for what happened at that party a few years ago. He asks for a truce. I agree, and then I can see us dancing. Then a bartender hands me a shot of tequila.
Just as quickly as it appeared, the image is gone. I try tocall it back up again as I lather myself with body wash and rinse my hair clean, but it’s no use. The water is starting to run cold, so I turn it off and grab a towel, all the while trying to make sense of the fact that Ollie and I seemingly made up last night. That’s a good thing, sure. But how did we go from declaring a truce to saying “I do”? That’s not a straight line. That’s a giant fucking leap. One I can barely begin to process right now.
I’m rooting through my makeup bag for some lotion when it occurs to me that I have no clothes to change into. They’re still in my suitcase. Dammit. I’ll have to put Ollie’s t-shirt and boxers back on…except they’re in a puddle by the side of the tub. Crap. I mustn’t have closed the shower curtain all the way.
Wrapping a towel around myself, I peek through the door, hoping to get Ollie’s attention. I don’t have to wave him over, though. He’s standing a few steps from the door with a pile of fresh clothes in his outstretched hand.
Smiling gratefully, I take what he’s offering and then step back into the bathroom to change. Otherwise, I might have been tempted to give him a kiss, and that’s just plain crazy.
Yeah, we’re technically married, but that won’t last long. He’s probably searching for how to get an annulment right now, and if he’s not, I need to..
My phone lights up with an incoming call and for a second, I wonder if it’s Ollie. Maybe he can read my mind and he’s found a lawyer who can void our marriage before anyone else finds out about it. Maybe the lawyer already sent the documents. Maybe Ollie can just slip them under the bathroom door and I can sign them with my eyeliner. Or maybe they’re digital. Even better.
Or maybe that’s all wishful thinking. It’s not Ollie calling. It’s my sister, Emersyn. She must’ve seen the series oftexts I sent ten minutes ago. I join the video chat and quickly sign that my hearing aids are charging. It’s better if we stick to signing, anyway, since I don’t really want anyone on the other side of the door to hear me as I brainstorm how to get out of this mess. Propping my phone up against the mirror, I look at my sister. I’m trying to determine where to start, but Em beats me to the punch, as usual.
Congratulations!she signs, her face beaming.
