I don’t have the luxury of turning away someone who wants to be beside me. No one else really cares what happens to me, if I’m sad or happy, healthy or sick. And I don’t have the energy to try to find anyone else and build something from scratch all over again.
I have a bit of money now, and the luxury to relax for a bit, but the time alone and silence was already difficult to bear. If I stay alone like that for too long, I’m sure the depression will come back. Mike is a welcome distraction to fill some of the empty spaces. He soothes some of the pain. And he understands some of my pain—maybe we are a good fit.
It means a lot to have someone make me a cup of coffee every day. That simple kindness brings a lot of warmth to my world.
Chapter 23
“But do you love him?” Veronica demands over the phone.
I am curled up on the couch with a blanket over me, listening to her on speakerphone. She called to check if I was losing my mind when she got her e-vite to my wedding. “I don’t know about love, Ronnie. But it’s better than having nothing at all.”
“You need to think about this, girl. You’re making a huge decision while your heart is broken and you’re on the rebound. You’re not thinking clearly.”
“Maybe. But maybe everything that happened with Gabriel was an eye opener… that I need to do something with my life. You already have a daughter to love—I have no kids, no family. I need something to keep me going. A reason to get out of bed in the morning.”
“Milla, I have a daughter that I had with the wrong man. Don’t repeat my mistakes,” Veronica warns.
“But he was someone you thought you were madly in love with, and it all fell apart. I thought I was madly in love with Gabe, and that he felt the same way… and now it’s all crumbled into dust. So what use is love, anyway? Maybe it’s better that I think with my head instead of my heart, do something logical. Don’t you think Mike is a good choice?”
“I mean, sure. On paper, he seems great. We all get along well, professionally. But I just don’t know, Milla… You were so happy with Gabe, and I loved seeing you like that.”
“So, what do you want me to do?” I ask her. “Sit around here forever and wait for Gabe alone, while he has a marriage and a baby, in-laws, brothers and sisters, a whole big life—and he completely forgets that I exist, and can’t even bother to call me on the phone for five minutes a day anymore? You want me to just waste my years away because I thought we loved each other once?” Tears spring to my eyes.
“No, of course not, Milla. I’m so sorry. This is your life and I want the best for you. If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”
“I’m not happy, but I’m trying my best to get there. I just don’t want to get depressed again, and be stuck in bed for days…”
“Is it wise to get married to someone just to fix your depression?”
“I don’t know. But if the cause of my depression is that I don’t have a family—maybe this fixes that.”
“Okay, Milla. Then I’m on board.”
“Good. Because I was hoping you would be my maid of honor and help me find a dress.”
“Of course.”
“Nothing fancy. I don’t want to make a big deal about it… just want to get this over with.”
* * *
“Does this look good for an Instagram post?” I ask Veronica as we sit in the dress shop. I show her some happy couple-y engagement photos that Mike and I took together.
“Yes—why? Are you trying to make someone jealous?” she asks.
“Of course. I said I wasn’t going to sit around and wait forever, but I never said I wouldn’t fight back a little. Love is war, right? Maybe Gabe will see this and have some kind of reaction…”
“Girl,” she says softly. “You need to let go and stop hoping he’ll come back to you.”
“I know. I know. I mean, look at where we are, Ronnie!” I gesture around at all the white dresses. “I’m trying really hard to let go and move on.”
She looks at me suspiciously. “I don’t think you are if you’re more concerned about posting photos for Gabriel to see than actually having a nice wedding and starting a good relationship with Mike.”
“Why can’t it be both at the same time?” I say grumpily. “Remind me to take some dress-shopping selfies while we’re here.”
The sales lady comes back, holding up two simple, lacy wedding dresses with a few crystals sprinkled in the bodice. “How about these?” she asks.
“Stunning!” Veronica says.
“Sure, I’ll try them,” I answer.
The wedding will be a simple affair in a local church, with not many people in attendance. Mostly our coworkers who have all been vaccinated. Some of Mike’s family. I’ll only have Veronica. I try on one of the dresses, struggling to get into it before walking out for Ronnie’s approval.
“Oh, Milla,” she says with a happy sigh, her face transforming with awe. She looks like a little girl on Christmas, and I am happy about this ridiculous charade just to experience this moment with her.
“You look like a Disney Princess,” she says.
“Thank you. It’s too bad Sleeping Beauty took back her prince.”
Chapter 24
Have you ever gotten married mostly because you kinda wanted to see if someone else cared enough to stop the wedding? No? Drink.
Ideally, let’s drink something bubbly because I just got married, and I guess we should celebrate. Gabriel doesn’t care. He didn’t call, or text, or send an angry DM like I was hoping. I even sent him an e-vite so he would know the location, and I didn’t realize how much I was praying he would show up and burst through the doors of the church to object in a dramatic fashion, like in the movies.
Stop the wedding! You can’t marry her! I love her! Yes, wouldn’t that be nice. But real life doesn’t work that way. Huge thanks to romantic comedies for ruining my concept of reality, by the way. I thought that marrying Mike would be some kind of catalyst to make Gabriel act. I literally stared at the church entrance the whole time we were repeating our vows. But nothing happened. It’s just over and I’m just married.
Bollocks.
Maybe it’s for the best. Mike and I got gorgeous wedding photos. We look quite good together when we’re not wearing scrubs and covered in blood. This is probably the kind of boring man I’m supposed to marry, instead of chasing after rainbows. Why did I let myself get so attached to a complicated philosophy-professor-writer with a history of being a womanizer, in France, who believes that love is dead? What was I thinking?
Gabe was an unattainable fantasy. Mike has become my reality.
I have to make my peace with that now. I already walked down the aisle.
Everything kind of passes in a blur after that, and I just find myself fighting against small attacks of sadness. I try to put one foot in front of the other and get through this day, and do what I have to do.
It’s my wedding night, and I can’t even force myself to care. Mike is being all gallant and insists on carrying me over the threshold, as we move into his gorgeous mansion. It’s cheesy, but sweet. This is my new home, and my new husband, and I feel so out of place. I feel disconnected from my body, like I left my heart somewhere in France. I let Mike kiss me, and touch me, and do whatever he wants to do. I try my best to respond, and act normal.
I excuse myself to freshen up. I try to go through the motions of getting pretty, at least I can muster enough energy to do the basics. Like… I washed my armpits. I think that’s standard for a honeymoon, right? I put on some nice wedding lingerie Veronica encouraged me to buy, a cute white babydoll. But I feel so strange and uncomfortable.
I think I look good. Maybe. Yvette’s voice enters my head. Your pussy looks disgusting. I flinch at the memory. Well… that event definitely didn’t help my self-confidence. But straight men are usually less picky, if I remember correctly. It’s been so long, I am sure I will screw it up. But I think that having some real sex with a real man, instead of via phone or texting wil
l be healthy for me.
When I exit the bathroom, Mike hands me a glass of red wine. There is candlelight and soft music playing. Of course.
“Mrs. Camilla Masterson. You look so beautiful,” he says, clinking his own glass against mine.
“Thank you,” I say, and we drink. I appreciate that he actually tried to make this romantic. He is very caring and thoughtful. “I’m a bit nervous,” I admit to him.
“Don’t be,” he assures me. “If the first time is awkward, we can always try again and again until we get it right.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” I tell him, taking a large gulp of the wine.
We talk and drink for a bit, sitting by the cozy fireplace in his bedroom. His master suite is stunning, by the way. The bathroom is lovely, and the bedroom is even better. It looks like there are speakers built into the walls, filling the atmosphere with surround sound. It’s definitely an upgrade from my tiny apartment. As far as marriages of convenience go, Mike and his house are very convenient. I just wish I could calm down and enjoy it more, but I’m not in the best state of mind.
I’m gripped by anxiety and nerves and… drowsiness.
I guess many brides don’t sleep before their wedding. I was way too restless. Plus, it was my first night sleeping alone in a little while—Mike decided to do that traditional thing about not seeing each other before the wedding. I know it wouldn’t make the most romantic night if I just fell asleep in the armchair in front of the fireplace, so I try to suppress my yawns.
As soon as I finish my wine, and lower the glass, Mike moves over to me and begins kissing me. He pulls me up out of the chair, and guides me over to the bed.
“You don’t have to worry about anything at all,” he tells me, as he lifts my body onto the mattress. “Just lie back and let me pleasure you.”
That sounds like a great idea, mostly because I’m too exhausted to do anything else. I feel so guilty for not getting enough sleep the previous night. I feel like I’ve just worked a double shift, and as soon as my head hits the pillow, my eyelids grow very heavy. Dammit.
When Mike positions himself between my legs and begins to pleasure me, it feels so good. But I am still fighting to keep my eyes open. This is not my best moment. I don’t want to fall asleep in the middle of my new husband performing oral on me for the first time. That would be a horrible start to our marital relations—and bad for his self-esteem.
“Mike,” I say softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m really sleepy. I’m so sorry, I guess I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“That’s okay,” he tells me. “Do you mind if I keep going? Or do you want me to stop?”
I hesitate. “You can keep going—it feels lovely. But I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep.”
“I don’t mind,” he answers. “I like the idea of licking you to sleep.”
“Oh,” I respond with surprise. When he says it like that, it sounds strangely hot and relaxing. So I let my head rest back against the pillow and just enjoy his touch.
I am not sure when I drift off, but I am surprised when I wake up to find Mike on top of me, kissing my neck.
“Camilla,” he says softly. “Is this okay?”
“Mmmm,” I respond sleepily in confusion. Crap. It’s our wedding night! I feel really guilty for passing out while he’s trying to be sexual with me. “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m so drowsy. I’m not sure why. Maybe the wine. And I’m on antidepressants…”
“It’s okay,” he answers. “Don’t stress out—just let me take care of you. Relax and enjoy yourself.”
I try to do as he asks, and fight against the waves of sleepiness.
An image of Gabe suddenly enters my mind and I imagine that he’s on top of me instead. I feel so disoriented and confused. I almost say his name—but I just barely hold back. Gabe… I only say his name in my mind, but I don’t let it leave my tongue. His name fills up my head, like an echo bouncing off the insides of my skull.
“You don’t have to do anything at all,” Mike says. “Just let me pleasure you.”
It strikes me as strange, but I am too tired to really do anything. So, it’s actually quite convenient. I guess I should never complain that a man is doing all the work and letting me relax. Especially because in the hospital, the nurses have to do all the heavy lifting and dirty work, while the doctors have things a little easier. Mike doing all the work is a bit of role reversal in our relationship.
I think this marriage is going to work out just wonderfully.
Chapter 25
When I wake up, I feel a bit cloudy. I’m not sure where I am.
Then I remember. But I don’t really know what happened last night. I don’t even remember if we had sex or not. Crap. It was definitely an awkward first night, and I’ll have to do something to make it up to Mike very soon. I actually want this marriage to work, and I want to be a good wife, not a useless, boring zombie.
I force myself to sit up in bed, and I find that my head is pounding. I press a few fingers against my temple to calm the ache. I am startled to find that Mike is not beside me in the bed. He’s awake already?
I look around for my phone to text him, and I see it lying on a piece of furniture. I toss the covers aside and swing my legs over the side of the bed.
“Oh no, don’t get up!” Mike says as he enters the room, carrying a tray. “I brought you breakfast in bed.”
“Whoa,” I say with surprise, seeing the lovely tray of pancakes, coffee, and mimosas. Even a flower sitting in a little glass. “Mike, that is so sweet. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Of course, I did, baby. That was the best night ever,” Mike is saying, as he deposits the tray in the bed and moves over to kiss my forehead.
I chuckle nervously. “Really? It was?”
“Yes,” he says, kissing my nose, and lips. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”
“You are the sweetest man I’ve ever known,” I say as I stare at the breakfast spread with wonder. “This is seriously amazing, Mike. I’m a really lucky woman.”
“I’m a really lucky man,” he responds with a grin, joining me in bed and picking up a pancake. “I just want to eat with you, drink with you, and make love to you all day.”
“That sounds like paradise.” Reaching out to pick up the mimosa, I take a sip. It tastes like happiness. I’m not joking. The beauty of the gorgeous master bedroom, with sunlight streaming in through translucent drapes—and the effort Mike put into preparing this lovely meal. It’s actually affecting me deeply, and making me emotional. I feel a few tears touch my eyes. “This is like… my perfect Sunday brunch. I don’t think I can ever remember having a nicer Sunday morning… ever. I need to grab my phone so I can take a photo for Instagram.”
“Don’t worry about that, honey. We can do this every Sunday morning for the rest of our lives,” he tells me. “Maybe with some cute kids to join us in the future? What do you say?”
A tear actually slides out of my eye then. I remember what Gabe and I joked about naming our firstborn daughter. Sunday. I’m so happy and sad at the same time—it’s bittersweet. I sigh deeply, putting down the mimosa to drink some of the coffee. Which is wonderful, as always. “That sounds like perfection, Mike.”
“Then we’d better get started on making those babies,” he says with a wink.
Oh. I guess that means we didn’t have sex. I’ll definitely have to make it up to him today. “You can get me pregnant as soon as I finish these pancakes,” I assure him.
* * *
Mike’s shower is incredible. The showerhead is like rainfall, and there are jets all around that massage the body. I feel so refreshed after being pelted with water, and I stare at my body in the full-length mirror while I blow dry my hair. I didn’t bring all my clothing, but I’ve got some more lingerie that I can put on. I need to try to make myself look more appealing, after that disappointing wedding night.
After styling my hair quickly and putting on a touch of makeup, I pull on a silky pink nightgown that is t
rimmed with lace. I notice a small bruise on my hip that I don’t remember having before, but it must be from packing and moving things out of my apartment.
When I exit the bathroom, Mike is waiting for me in the bed, holding the TV remote and flipping through channels on the large flatscreen that is mounted to his bedroom wall. He glances over at me and smiles. “You look incredible, Milla. Every time I see you, I fall more in love with you. And I want you so bad.”
“Aww,” I say happily. That definitely boosts my confidence. After being called hideous, and so many other awful things in French that I’d rather even not know what they all meant—it makes me happy to know that Mike is turned on by me.
He turns the TV off and puts the remote aside, before coming over to me and kissing me. “There’s something I wanted us to try together. I’m not sure if you’re interested, but it’s just a little enhancer to make sex feel even more amazing.”
“Sure,” I answer, wondering what he’s talking about. But after my horrible performance the night before, I definitely want to do whatever it takes to make him happy today. And make him not regret his choice to marry me.
“It’s a bit unusual, but I promise it will be mind-blowing,” he says as he opens up the top drawer of his night table. He pulls out a syringe. “What do you think?”
“Oh… I don’t really do any drugs, Mike,” I say with surprise.
“But you’re on antidepressants, right?” he answers. “Those are drugs. This is even way safer than that. Trust me, Milla, you’re going to love it. You’ll feel so high.”
I am starting to feel a bit uncomfortable, but Mike is a doctor after all… and I’ve had to trust him with patients a million times before. So, I’m sure that he wouldn’t recommend anything that would hurt me. “What is it?” I ask him nervously.
The Sick Wife Page 10