by Max Monroe
I break into a jog as I trail behind her quick feet, and thanks to long legs and good genetics, it only takes half a block for me to catch up with her.
“Dais,” I say in a quiet voice so as not to startle her from behind. “What’s wrong? Where are you going?”
She doesn’t respond, stalwart silence in the face of a tense moment a first for her, I’m sure. I quicken my steps and fall in step beside her, reaching out to grab at the soft part of her arm just above her elbow. She keeps walking, even with my hold, but the streaks of wetness down her cheeks that shimmer beneath the soft glow of the streetlamps are unmistakable.
Clearly, she’s not okay, and as much as she might need this game of cat and mouse, I can tell by the ache in my chest that I need to know what’s wrong even more. “Daisy, hold up a minute,” I state and wrap my arm around her shoulders to pull us both to a stop. “What’s going on? Are you sick?”
She averts her eyes. “I just needed to get out of there.”
“I get that, trust me. I know the whole scene with my family can be overwhelming, but you’re going in the opposite direction of our place. Let’s go home.”
She shakes her head and digs her teeth into her quivering bottom lip, her voice a scratchy version of itself. “Your place.”
“What?”
“It’s your place. Not mine. Not ours. It’s yours.”
I reach out to place both hands on her cheeks, but when she steps back to avoid my touch, it feels as if someone just put a line of barbed wire in my chest. This isn’t the anxious, chatty Daisy I know. This woman is cold. Detached. Determined.
“What am I missing here, Daisy?”
“I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what exactly?”
“This!” she blurts out and finally meets my eyes. Tears are now streaming down her cheeks, and she gestures between us with an erratic back-and-forth of her hand. “Us. Me and you and all the lies. I can’t do this anymore, Flynn. I can’t do it to you or your family. I won’t.”
“What are you talking about? You’re not doing anything to me or my family.”
“They think our marriage is for real, Flynn! They think I’m going to be around! Winnie treats me like a sister, and your mom treats me like a second daughter. Everyone has welcomed me with open arms and kind hearts, and I’m about to shit all over them!”
“Daisy—” I start to say, but she’s quick to cut me off.
“No, Flynn!” she shouts so loud I’m certain that everyone within a one-mile radius can hear her. “There’s nothing you can say that will make this okay. I’m sorry I ever brought you into this mess. I’m sorry for the aftermath that you’re going to have to shoulder when I’m gone. I’m just sorry about all of it.”
Aftermath when she’s gone?
Tomorrow is her interview. The day she’ll find out if her application was approved and if USCIS will give her a green card. If it all pans out the way it should, our marriage will no longer be needed, and she can move back to LA.
She can go back to her life that doesn’t include you.
We could get a divorce and it wouldn’t affect Daisy’s immigration status. I know this because I already did my research. She’ll be free to continue on with the process and eventually get citizenship in a few years if she wants.
She won’t need you anymore.
I place a hand to my chest when a sharp pang shoots beneath my ribs. Everything inside me feels as if it’s ripping apart at the seams.
“Just let me go, Flynn,” she says, and her voice shakes when the words leave her lips.
No. I’m not ready to let her go.
“Your interview is tomorrow. We can talk again after,” I force myself to concede through a throat so tight it’s hard to breathe. I grab her hand and turn to walk to the apartment, but she yanks out of my hold and effectively spins me back around to face her. Her eyes are pained and her body is crippled under the weight of her yell as she leans forward and roars.
“I don’t give a shit about the interview!”
“You’ve got to be shitting me right now, Daisy. All of this…everything we’ve been through… It’s for nothing?”
Her whole jaw shakes as she buckles on a sob, and it’s all I can do not to reach out and gather her in my arms. It’d be a wasted effort, I know, because with the way she’s lashing out right now, I know there’s no way she’d let me.
“So, that’s it? You’re just done. After everything you’ve been through, we’ve been through, you’re just going to, what? Walk away? Go back to Canada? Give up everything?”
“I’m sorry,” she says, swiping angrily at her tear-soaked cheeks. I step forward, desperate enough to provide her comfort that I have to try, but she’s having none of it.
Two more steps back and she’s put even more distance between us.
“I’ll stay in a hotel until I make arrangements to go back to Canada. And I’ll send someone to get all my stuff from your apartment. I promise, this will be the last time you have to deal with me and my problems.”
“What the fuck?” I question, and the calm of my voice is long gone. “I have no idea what brought this on, but it’s fucking irrational, and you know it. You’re not thinking clearly about this.”
“Not thinking clearly?” she retorts with wide, blazing eyes. “I’ve caused a fucking disaster with your family. Your mom, Sophie, Winnie, they’re going to be devasted when they find out that we’ve been lying to them the whole time. Trust me, I’m thinking clearly.”
“So, that’s it, then? Your mind is made up, and you’re just going to walk away from everything?” Walk away from me?
“I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me for dragging you into this. I hope one day your family will understand that I really do care about them and I never intended to hurt them.”
I can’t fucking believe it. She’s actually saying goodbye right now.
And I fucking hate it.
“Dais—”
“I’m so sorry, Flynn,” she whispers, and without another word, she turns around and walks away. Down the street, and across at the light, I watch her retreating back until my chest feels like it’s going to explode.
Every cell inside my body wants me to follow her. To chase her down. But for some reason, I just stand there, frozen to my spot, and watch her walk away until she’s just a blip in the darkness.
Until she’s completely gone and all I can do is head home. Alone.
Daisy
I can’t stop crying.
Not when I told Flynn goodbye. Not when I walked around New York like a vagabond in the night, unsure of where to go or what to do. And definitely not when I finally gave up and checked in to the first hotel I spotted.
Luckily, the receptionist at the Holiday Inn Express paid my emotions no attention and let me book a room.
I hold the keycard in front of the door handle, and once the light beeps green, I push inside, only to snag my heel on the threshold and force my body to catapult forward. With a panicked hand to the wall, I just barely prevent myself from eating carpet.
Fantastic. Someone just snap my picture and plaster my face right above Webster’s definition of disaster.
I throw myself onto the hotel bed, shove my face into one of the pillows, and groan. I can’t be sure, but I think I fucked up. Big-time.
Oh, you definitely fucked up. You’re an idiot for walking away from him like that.
I feel like a big fat coward. Like someone who ran away from her problems and left Flynn to deal with the aftermath by himself.
Hmmm…ran away from her problems? This sounds oddly familiar…
I turn onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have just left him like that. I should’ve stayed and been there when his family finds out the truth.
It’s not too late for that…
I swipe the never-ending tears from my face and hop off the bed to where I left my purse on the floor by the door. Phone in my hand,
I spot a missed call from an unfamiliar number and a voice mail.
My heart beats wildly in my chest as I tap play on the message, but when “Hi, Daisy, this is Dr. Fields” fills my ears, all my hopes pop like a balloon with a needle in it.
I don’t know what I expected. Flynn calling me from a random number? It makes no sense, but I’m not exactly the most sane person at the moment.
“I have an urgent update that I need to relay to you, so please call me back as soon as you can. This is my cell number, and I’ll be available any time, day or night.”
Urgent update? What in the hell does that mean?
I tap on the number beside her voice mail and hit the phone icon to call.
The line rings four times, and I almost hang up, but by the fifth ring, she answers.
“This is Dr. Fields.”
“Hi, it’s Daisy. You just left me a message.”
“Daisy Winslow, right?”
I swallow and shut my eyes. “Yes.”
“Well, Daisy, I want to first apologize because the lab we sent your blood to made a very big error.”
“Okay…?”
“When they entered everything into the system, they somehow mixed up your results with another patient’s results, and while all of your lab work was still normal, your HCG levels came back high.”
“What does that mean?”
“Your blood work showed that you’re pregnant.”
Time halts. Brakes squeal. The world stops spinning.
“I’m sorry…what?”
“You’re pregnant, Daisy. And estimating by your HCG levels, I’d say you were about five to six weeks when you were in my office, so you’re probably seven to eight weeks along now.”
I shake my head. “T-that can’t be.”
“I can understand this comes a shock, especially since you’re finding out two weeks later than you should have. Again, I really apologize for that.”
“But I’m on birth control. The Depo shot. I have been for years now.”
“Birth control isn’t one-hundred-percent effective, Daisy. Do you remember the last time you had your shot? Or the last time you had a period?”
My last period? Fuck, I don’t know. I’m not the organized type that keeps it all marked on a calendar. I’m more of the type that finds out she’s on her period when she’s in a bathroom stall at a restaurant and Aunt Flo decides to ruin her underwear.
And my shot? I mean, I’ve been getting it regularly, every three months, even since I moved to LA.
Yeah, well, you’re the woman who forgot to renew her work visa, so it’s highly possible you’ve messed something up here…
When I think back to the last time I had my Depo shot, I know that it was Christmastime because Dr. Lowe’s waiting area was decked out with garland and stockings and a giant tree in the corner.
Which means it was December. And it’s May, almost fucking June.
“I’m pregnant,” I whisper and lift a hand to my mouth. “Holy shit, I’m pregnant! How did I not notice that I’m pregnant? Isn’t that something that a woman should know?!” Oh my God. I’m one of those women who end up having her baby in the toilet because she’s clueless!
“Every woman’s body reacts differently to pregnancy, and while some experience a lot of symptoms in the first trimester, some women don’t. Maybe you’re one of the lucky few who doesn’t have to deal with morning sickness and constipation.” She laughs, but I sure as shit don’t feel like laughing.
I am in the midst of existential absurdity, and it feels like I’m the butt of the universe’s biggest cosmic joke. I mean, who finds out they’re pregnant with their fake husband’s baby on the same night they walk away from their fake husband, even though they don’t want to walk away from their fake husband at all because, in all actuality, they love their fake husband so much they wish he was their real husband?
Apparently, you are this woman.
My life is an absolute dumpster fire, and this news just added gasoline to the already blazing flames. If I’m seven or eight weeks pregnant, that would mean…that you and Flynn literally consummated your marriage in Vegas.
“Daisy, are you there?”
“How do you know for sure?” I blurt out and begin to pace the small space in front of my hotel bed. “I mean, if the lab results got all screwed up, how do you know that I’m really pregnant? Maybe it’s another one of your patient’s labs. Maybe I got a pregnant woman’s HCG result mixed with my labs! Maybe you’ve called the wrong woman!”
Or maybe, you’re the pregnant woman, you no-period-having, missed-birth-control-shot lunatic.
“I can assure you, it’s your results,” Dr. Fields responds, and her voice is surprisingly calm for handling a raging psycho. “And while HCG levels are a definitive test, Daisy,” she continues, but I’m already done with the conversation, “I want you to follow up with an OB-GYN in the city. Her name is Dr. Marissa Summers. She’s really—”
“I have to go!” I cut her off and don’t wait for her response.
Instead, I shut my phone off and throw it onto the bed, grab my purse, and head right back out my hotel room door in search of the nearest Walgreens or CVS or whatever the hell place is open this late and has pregnancy tests.
No way I’m pregnant. Obviously, they’ve made a mistake…right?
Flynn
The peace and quiet that usually come with stepping into my apartment don’t give me the relief they normally do.
Instead of feeling relaxed, I feel as if I’m about to crawl out of my fucking skin.
I can’t deny that I was hopeful Daisy would’ve somehow ended up back here. That she would’ve changed her mind and I would’ve found her sitting on the couch.
But she’s not. Daisy is… gone.
And you didn’t do a damn thing to stop her, you dense motherfucker.
In the kitchen, I tug the fridge door open with a harsh pull of my wrist and grab a beer. But I barely have the top popped off and the bottle to my lips when several pounding knocks echo into the otherwise silence of my apartment.
My heart races with anticipation, and I don’t waste any time striding into the entryway and yanking the door open.
But the one person I want to be on the other side isn’t there.
“That was quite the show back there,” Rem says by way of greeting, and I furrow my brow in question. “You know, in the street, with you and Daisy.”
I stare at him, and he takes it upon himself to step inside my apartment and shut the door with a kick of his boot.
“You motherfucker, you lied to me. You lied to everyone.”
Normally, I might feel angered by his aggressive approach, but I’m all tapped out. After I watch Daisy walk away, my entire body feels numb, and my mind is thriving off the kind of emotion a man like me purposefully avoids.
“You know, I knew it was all so ridiculous. I fucking knew something was off with the whole situation.” He walks into my kitchen and grabs himself a beer. “I expected something like this from Ty, but not from you.”
I have nothing to say to that. Don’t care to say anything to it, actually.
Because your concern right now isn’t about Rem or your family. It’s about her.
“How in the fuck did you end up marrying a random stranger to help her get a green card?”
Damn, he really did hear the whole blowout in the street.
“I know your usual MO isn’t to say shit, but you’re going to have to ante up an explanation, my man. And I promise, I’m not leaving until you do.”
“You know her.” Those are the first words that have come out of my mouth since he barged in here on a rampage and started making himself at home.
“What?”
“You met Daisy. In Vegas.”
He stares at me like I have two heads, and I use that time to take several needed gulps from the beer that’s still in my hand.
“What do you mean, I know—” He pauses midsentence, and I can see the wheels turning ins
ide his mind. “Wait…she’s not the chick Ty gave money to at the slot, is she?”
I nod. Bingo, brother.
“What the hell?” he questions, but it’s more to himself than to me. “Damn, I knew she looked familiar.”
Yeah, well, now you know why.
“For fuck’s sake, Flynn,” he mutters and runs a hand through his hair. “How did you get dragged into a fake marriage?”
The fact that he’d even insinuate a woman like Daisy would drag me into anything makes my spine prickle with irritation. A woman like her doesn’t drag a man into any-fucking-thing. A woman like her makes it impossible not to come willingly.
“I didn’t get dragged into it,” I answer firmly. “I offered.”
“You’re fucking with me.”
I shake my head.
“You offered to be get married to a complete fucking stranger?” A sharp laugh escapes his throat. “This just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?”
The truth is, I think I fell in love with Daisy the first moment I saw her. Some part of me offered to save her because, deep down, I knew she’d save me.
The realization is so acute, so visceral, that I lose my grip on the beer in my hand, and it crashes to the floor in a bubbling mess of broken glass and booze. But all I can do is stand there and watch the beer make a river on my hardwood floors.
Rem looks from the floor to me and back to the floor until, eventually, his gaze locks on my face.
“Oh no,” he says. “I’m…such a fucking idiot,” he says quietly and sets his beer down on my coffee table. “I know that look. I’ve felt that look. You love her. You’re in love with her.”
I don’t deny it. I don’t even stay silent or just offer a nod. I face the truth head on.
“Yeah, Rem. I love her.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.” He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “I just came blazing in here, all fixated on the fact that you were lying to me, but I didn’t stop to think about what was actually going on with you. I’m a real fucking bastard.”
I nod. He chuckles, but it’s devoid of amusement.
“I didn’t plan on it,” I admit. “When Daisy and I made the pact, I didn’t plan on it ending like this.”