I pretend to think for a minute.This will get you some points for sure, but I’m pretty sure you still owe me a wedding night, so I’ll hold off on giving you a trophy.I’m joking of course, butsometimes I get carried away and say more than I should. Based on Ollie’s silence, this is one of those times.
Did we?he asks, his eyes wide.
Did we what? Have sex? No, I sign back.We definitely did not. I have a distinct memory of us lying in bed once we made it back to the hotel. You turned toward me, cupped my breasts, and told them you were sorry, but you needed a nap, and you’d give them your full attention in a few hours. You were naked by that point, and I’d taken my jeans off, so when you tossed your boxers, I grabbed them and shimmied into them because I was freezing.
Ollie looks relieved for a minute, but I’m not done with this conversation.
Val said we had to be convincing, right?I ask, my fingers forming the words.
I have to admit it’s gratifying when he drops the bag of cookies he was holding and doesn’t seem to mind that they’re now scattered all over his tray.Uh, yeah. I guess we should figure out what that’s gonna look like, right? I mean, technically we live together, but?—
I cut him off because I have an answer to all the questions running through his mind.In the course of our brief marriage, we’ve dealt with shocking news, legal issues, and several pissed-off in-laws. Those are hardships married couples face. But don’t you think that if we deal with all the bullshit of married life, we should reap the benefits, too?
What are you saying, Fallon?
I’m taking a risk, but then again, I’ve never been a cautious person.I’m saying that I’m your wife, Ollie, and I want all the privileges that come with that title.
I watch as Ollie swallows visibly.Like two bags of pretzels?
And more,I sign.
You want to get a joint rate on car insurance? Make sure I can never testify against you in a murder trial?He asks.
That’s not really what I have in mind, I tell him, biting back a smile.
Then what are you thinking? You need to spell it out for me,Ollie signs, his eyes never leaving mine.
I thread my fingers through his.We both have reasons for staying married to each other, and I know we haven’t talked about a timeline, but I think that, for as long as we are married, we should be married in every sense of the word.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, but as I watch him, I don’t brace myself for the sting of rejection. I can tell by the tense set of his shoulders, the flush of his cheeks, and the way he squirms just a little in his seat that Ollie wants me as much as I want him.
The question is, what is he going to do about it?
Let me get this straight, he says, his eyes on mine again.You want this to be a real marriage? In the physical sense?
Yes. I’m a married woman, and I want to have sex with my husband,I answer, seeing no need to play games.I’m not being impulsive. I’ve given this some thought.I’m on birth control, and we can use condoms until we both get tested.It’s practical because if we’re intimate with each other behind closed doors, it will be that much easier to be affectionate when we’re in the public eye. But that’s not the only reason. I’m attracted to you. We have chemistry. When we’re not picking on each other we have fun together. And I don’t know if we’re setting an end date for all of this or what, but it’s unreasonable to expect us both to be celibate. And let me make one thing clear: I don’t share.
The smile Ollie gives me is positively predatory. And the kiss he follows it up with is borderline obscene. His fingers curl around the back of my neck as our lips collide. We’re hungry for each other, and neither of us tries to hide it. Our tongues tangle as he pulls me closer. I’m vaguely aware that we’re far from alone—there are at least a hundred and fifty other people on this flight— but thatdoesn’t stop me from arching up into his embrace, my breasts pressed against the firm wall of his chest. The woman across the aisle from us clears her throat loudly, and Ollie lets out a muffled groan as he reluctantly pulls away. Soon enough, the exhaustion of the day settles around us. When my husband leans back in his seat, and his eyes shutter closed, I realize our hands are still intertwined.
23
Ollie
“Wait, there’s no reception? No Deejay? No cake? Fallon and I get married, and you fuckers don’t throw us a party?” My questions are met with blank stares because Mickey, Deano, and Blue are sitting on the couch, inhaling a pizza and watching some weird alien show they’re obsessed with.
“You’re the party planner, dude,” Wagner says, coming in from the kitchen. “But there’s half a pepperoni pie left in there so if you and your wife want a wedding feast, you should grab it before we get to it.”
“Thanks for the tip,” I say to Wagner’s retreating back. The guy’s not much for conversation, so the fact that he muttered two sentences to me counts as a win. Fallon wheeled her suitcase back to her room, so I should probably make up plates for us.
As I’m snagging the last of the pizza and rooting around in the fridge for cold drinks, I hear Mickey and Deano pad into the room, and brace myself for a lecture. It’s laughable, because neither of these guys is known fortheir superior decision-making skills, but if Deano wants to ask me what the hell I was thinking or if Mickey wants to threaten my life if I upset Fallon, well, I can take a talking-to from these to if it’s going to mean they leave Fallon and me the fuck alone after they say their piece.
“All right, boys, lay it on me,” I say, spreading my arms.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Deano asks. “Dude, did you take all the pepperoni?”
“This is my wedding supper. And it’s basically my wedding night, so hurry it up with whatever speech you’re about to dish out because my bride is waiting for me.” In actuality, she’s probably sorting her laundry, but I’ve been half-hard since our conversation and that scorching kiss on the plane, and I’d like to pick up exactly where we left off.
“Do we have to give a speech?” Deano asks, looking at Mickey. “You never told me we had to give a speech.”
