by Kat T. Masen
I left the hospital with more drive to plan this wedding. With a band on his finger, no one will ever question his relationship status even if he doesn’t say a word about me. The possessive fiancée’s coming out of me.
Like many things, I can’t shake this one off. Having a discussion with him would have been the adult thing to do, but instead, I buried my unnatural thoughts and moved on to planning the honeymoon. Drew has always wanted to go to Maui, but I’m not keen on the beach. I’m hoping to sway him to visit Australia. Costly, I know, but a lifetime experience and a fantastic honeymoon location. Beaches if he wants it and cute koalas for me to cuddle.
I woke up early and waited for him to come home. With the wedding six weeks away, I need to haul ass and lose weight. The wedding dress fitting is this weekend, and God forbid the dress I want doesn’t fit. Despite it being just before five in the morning, I turn on my music and shuffle with my workout mix. Nothing like Paula Abdul to get your blood pumping in the wee hours of the morning.
Somewhere in the middle of my sit-ups and rapping to Opposites Attract, the door opens and Drew walks in. He looks tired with dark circles under his eyes while wearing his glasses. He wears them when his contacts irritate him. Placing his bag on the floor, he walks toward me with a weak smile.
“Do you know what time it is?” he asks, turning the music down slightly.
“Workout time,” I reply out of breath, my stomach on the verge of combusting.
He drops down to the floor placing his hands on my knees to spread my legs wide open. Leaning forward, he moves his mouth onto mine and kisses my lips sucking gently before retracting back.
“How long do I have before you crash?”
“That depends.” He leans back in kissing the side of my neck and distracting my train of thought. Keeping his tone low and seductive, he murmurs, “What do you want me for?”
“To pick your brain.” I close my eyes, enjoying his lips against my skin. “Honeymoon stuff.”
“Does it involve me fucking you?”
“Yes. How would you like to fuck me down under?”
He pulls himself up straight gazing back with a smirk plastered on his sexy face. “I always want to fuck you down under. I also want to fuck you from behind. Is this a trick question?”
“No, silly. I mean Australia.”
His smirk disappears almost to annoyance as he pulls himself up and away from me.
“You want to go to Australia for our honeymoon?”
“Yes. It’s where you grew up, plus I’ve always wanted to visit.”
“Zoey,” he says in a sharper tone. “How can we afford to have your expensive venue, plus a trip to Australia? I thought we agreed we’d save for our house?”
I sit up straight, extending my arm to touch his. “If you’ll just hear me out—”
“No.” He raises his palm quick to shut down my idea. “If this is about Dad’s place, I don’t want to hear it.”
“But you haven’t even heard me out.”
“What’s there to hear?” His voice is escalating, body withdrawing and creating a hostile distance between us. “I don’t want to live there.”
Drew jumps to his feet leaving me alone in the living room. I give him a few moments, following him into the bathroom where he’s stripping off to jump into the shower. My eyes wander down his perfectly built body deliciously eyeing how each muscle is sculpted like he just stepped out of some fitness magazine.
Raising my voice above the noise of the running shower, I try to reconcile what’s just happened. “I’m sorry, Drew. I want us to enjoy our honeymoon.”
“I’m tired, Zoey. I just want to have a shower in peace.”
I’m trying my best to be sympathetic, but the growing number of tasks that I need to complete this week for the wedding has placed an enormous amount of pressure on me. Even with Mia, Gigi, and Mom’s help, I want Drew’s help. It’s supposed to be our wedding.
“Well, we need to talk. I need to confirm things. You can’t keep brushing it off,” I vent in frustration, sitting on the toilet with the lid down waiting for him to respond. “Are you listening to me?”
The water stops. “I’m listening, Zoey. I’m always fucking listening to you. Now, listen to me. I’m tired. I want to sleep. We’ll talk about this when I have the energy to talk about it.”
I storm out of the bathroom in a hissy fit grabbing my phone and the keys to the apartment. A run will clear my mind and stop me from arguing with Drew. With my headphones on and the footpath along the beach clear of any cyclists, I run fast, pushing myself beyond my means to the tunes of Beat It.
I circle the neighborhood and am barely able to walk up the flight of stairs to our apartment hoping Drew’s calmed down enough to talk. Removing my headphones and placing them on the hall table, the apartment is dead quiet with the sun rising and the rays peeking through the kitchen window. Trying to walk quietly toward our bedroom, the door is slightly ajar, enough for me to peek my head in. The room is dark, curtains shut, and all I can see in our bed is Drew’s back toward me followed by the sound of his gentle snores.
Disappointed with how we’ve left things, I head to the shower and get dressed, ready to leave for work.
***
Mia decides today’s the day to bring in some fancy muffins she’s baked—red velvet to be exact—the devil’s food. Resisting the delicious servings of heaven is extremely difficult, but time’s not on my side. I didn’t almost kill myself this morning for nothing.
I arrive at work early so we can get some wedding stuff out of the way—things I desperately need help with. Our job is to reduce headcount. The venue is costly and will only seat one hundred people. This is the part that’s extremely difficult. I have a lot of family back home although Drew does not. Mia’s very cutthroat.
“Last time you saw this Uncle Desmond?” she questions, squinting as she reads my handwriting.
“He’s my dad’s brother. If I don’t invite him, then I can’t invite my favorite Uncle Sal.”
“And both of them are married? With kids?”
“Uncle Sal remarried, so technically he has six kids.”
“Zoey, you need to cut this list. The room only allows one hundred people, not one hundred and fifty. When Troy and I got married, we had to cut eighty people off our list. Trust me, they probably won’t care anyway. Remove all the kids.”
“Don’t you think that’s unfair, though? What if they can’t get a babysitter?”
“Too bad, so sad,” she says without emotion.
I laugh. “Remember that when you’re invited to a wedding and you’ve got no babysitter.”
“Oh yeah.” She smiles. “I forgot I’m having a baby.”
“How do you forget you’re having a baby?”
“Baby brain. The other day I forgot how to sign my name. Just went stone blank. The clerk at the store thought I was some con-artist with a stolen credit card.”
Mia crams another muffin into her mouth, the cream frosting lingering on her lips. God, she’s such an evil woman.
“So, listen,” I say carefully. “The wedding’s in six weeks, and you aren’t due for ten. Would you like to be my Matron of Honor?”
There’s a loud scream, so high-pitched it almost bursts my eardrums. She stands up with a struggle, throwing her arms over me the exact moment Slater walks into the kitchen.
“Who won the lotto?” he asks, rinsing his mug in the sink and setting it under the coffee machine. Placing a pod inside, he presses the button then turns to face us leaning against the counter with his hands reversed and pressed against the edge of the cupboard for support. Mia’s still holding on to me. Her heavy breath against my cheek is really annoying me. She smells like muffins. Muffins I so desperately want to taste right now.
“I’m going to be Zoey’s Matron of Honor,” she squeals with delight.
“Ahh,” he voices. “Congratulations. So when do I get to meet the elusive fiancé?”
I’m quick to defend
my relationship, unsure why. Maybe because of our fight this morning. “Drew isn’t elusive. He’s simply super busy at the hospital.”
“Maybe you guys should double date,” Mia suggests.
“Double dating would require me to actually have a girlfriend.”
“Huh.” Mia exhales. “So, you’re not in a relationship?”
I snicker at her pathetic attempt. “Way to be subtle, Mia. Watch out, Slater, Mia has this obsessive need to play the perfect matchmaker with eligible contenders.”
Her elbow connects with my ribcage causing me to wince in pain.
“You wouldn’t be the first,” he tells us. “Besides, I have my eye on someone.”
His gaze lingers long enough for me to feel slightly uncomfortable. Shifting my head sideways with a smile, I ignore the heat burning my skin. What the hell was that? Something for you to walk away from because you’re getting married.
Insert witty comment right now.
“Lucky eye,” I joke. “Getting all the action but not you.”
Mia bursts out laughing. I’m completely mortified I’ve just said that. I don’t work well under pressure, and stupid comments like that are a strong indication I should carry duct tape and learn to keep my thoughts to myself.
Slater turns around removing his mug from the machine. When he turns back to face us, it’s not without a smirk. His playful stare purposely pierces through me adding to my already uncomfortable state.
“If I get my way, which I always do, it won’t be just my eye getting all the action, Zoey.”
Blame the British accent.
Always blame the accent.
With every strength in my weak body, I lock my jaw refusing to let it fall. Mia is equally quiet, and when Slater leaves the room casually walking away, we both continue to stand still staring at the wall.
“I’m not sure what to say.” Mia gulps.
“We say nothing. We’re committed women. Every now and then a man will come along and say something like that to test our commitment levels. This is nothing more than a test.”
“You’re right. This is a test. Like our finals.”
“Like our finals,” I repeat.
“I almost failed my finals.”
“I aced mine. Sorry.”
“Bitch.” She sulks.
We leave the kitchen and head back to our desks abandoning the wedding planning. Despite the unsettling feeling Slater left behind, we have a meeting in an hour, and I will be forced to face him. It’ll be fine. I need to relax and be myself. Then every uncomfortable feeling will soon be a distant memory.
Before leaving my desk, I grab my cell and send a text to Drew apologizing for this morning and seeing if we can have dinner tonight even if it’s a quick bite to eat at the café next to the hospital. Given that it was only after ten, I don’t expect him to respond until much later, leaving my cell behind at my desk.
The meeting’s been called to discuss a building being torn down with excellent potential for a small set of condos facing the ocean. It’s prime real estate and will attract investors from overseas. Unlike some of the other condos along the seaboard, this will be very upscale.
I walk to the boardroom entering quietly and switching the lights on. It’s not very big, enough to fit about twenty people seated comfortably. There’s a large mahogany desk in the center with a whiteboard on the front wall. Aside from that, there’s nothing else besides washed-out gray walls.
Slater walks in with his Mac in hand setting it on the table with his two cells beside it. He glances up, smiling, then focuses back on the screen and types in his password.
“So, I’m thinking about tracking down Bros to play at my wedding,” I blurt out, completely out of nowhere in an attempt to curb the uncomfortable silence.
He laughs. “When Will I Be Famous… odd song choice.”
“Why not have fun? It doesn’t have to be all corny love music.”
“I’d try to hunt down A-Ha. Better vibe.”
“They’re a one-hit wonder. What else would they sing besides Take on Me?”
“And Bros would sing what else? Their other songs barely made the top one hundred.”
Unable to hide my smile, I ask, “Didn’t know you were an eighties buff.”
“It was my childhood,” he says, eyes on me and distancing himself from his Mac. “You look a bit young, though, to be caught up in that era.”
“Don’t be fooled by the magic that’s L’Oréal face cream,” I joke. “Okay, Ducky. Hate him or love him?”
“Love him. He was the ultimate best friend. Screw the cool guys.”
“That’s what I thought.” I wonder out loud, “Favorite cartoon?”
“Voltron.”
“Uh, such a guy thing to say.”
“And yours?” he questions with a spirited smile.
“Mmm, let’s see. Strawberry Shortcake, Rainbow Brite, Masters of the Universe, Garbage Pail Kids. Oh, and Fat Albert.”
He nods in agreement. “Fat Albert was the best show.”
“Right? It’s funny how his weight was never an issue back then, but God forbid if you have a show dealing with weight these days. My brother’s had a baby, and his wife will only let their son watch educational shows like the Jiggles or something like that.”
“Do you mean Wiggles?” Slater asks, amused by our change of topic.
“Perhaps. Should I be questioning now or later as to how you know that?”
He laughs. “Later.”
We dial the number of the client placing the call on speaker while we conferenced. The meeting went on for two hours, straight into lunchtime. By the time we hung up, I was famished. And to make matters worse, I had one of those supplement shakes for lunch instead of real food. I’ll admit it was a late-night infomercial that sucked me in along with the Thighmaster.
Back in the kitchen, I shake the canister that holds the concoction which will secretly make me lose weight. My cell is sitting on the counter—no messages or calls from Drew.
Slater walks in and heads straight for the microwave unwrapping his food from the package and placing it in for not even a minute. When he opens the door, the familiar aroma of melted cheese and sliced pepperoni lingers in the room.
“You have pizza for lunch?” I ask, licking the side of my lips to contain the drool. My shake looks like grass clippings blended with muddy water. Very unappetizing.
“Yesterday’s pizza,” he corrects me. “The best kind. Extra greasy from the excess oil.”
“Okay, you’re now my favorite person ever. No one understands how great leftover pizza is. Drew is always throwing it in the trash on a mission to get me to eat healthier.”
He pauses mid-bite, then lowers his head watching me carefully. “You don’t talk about him much.”
“Who? Drew?”
“Uh huh. Your fiancé.”
“Really? I think I talk about him all the time.”
He shakes his head. “So, how long have you been together?”
“A year, technically. But we were roomies for like four years.”
“Friends to lovers?”
“Yes.” I laugh. “Roomies to lovers more like it. And what about you? Why aren’t you married yet? I heard what you said earlier, but you’re one of those rare catches. A lover of all things retro.”
“I guess I haven’t found someone worth marrying. I’ve dated women and had relationships but none worth continuing.”
“At least you aren’t averse to commitment.”
“I think commitment is beautiful, one person to share your life with. Given, it’s with the right person. Until then, happy to be single.” He winks, bringing the pizza to his mouth as I watch hopelessly.
“I don’t miss being single. It’s not for me.” I take a sip trying to relax my gag reflex as the liquid hits the back of my throat. It’s terrible—the women in the infomercial were totally faking it. This does not taste yummy like they said it would.
“I like the solitude. And somet
imes just the freedom of doing what I please,” Slater continues, then falls into silence.
I think about what he’s said. I get plenty of solitude, and for the most part, I do whatever I please. Drew never holds me back from living my life. In fact, he encourages me to get out more, see more things. One of the reasons why I don’t understand his adversity to a honeymoon in Australia.
My cell vibrates in my pocket, and I see Drew on the screen.
“Hey,” he says in a defeated voice.
“What’s wrong?”
“A cruise ship overturned out in the sea, and they’re flying patients in here.”
“That’s awful.” I almost cry. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just going to be a long night… double shifts. I won’t be home until who knows when. I have a couple of moments now if you want to ask me anything, and I’m sorry I can’t do dinner.”
My mind goes blank. “I can handle everything, I guess.”
“I simply want you to be my wife, Zoey. I don’t care how or where it happens. I’m sorry about this morning. I was tired.”
I smile, happy to reconcile. “I want that, too. So, I know work is crazy, but Troy wants to organize a bachelor weekend for you.”
He barely laughs, his tone quieter than usual. “I expected that. Just tell him to text me, and I’ll respond when I can.”
“Okay, but is this the bit where I should protest to topless girls dancing around you while fanning you with banana leaves?”
“Naked, Zo. No clothes.”
“What? Do they seriously go all nude?”
I’m distracted by Slater’s chuckling. His head is down buried in his cell until he raises his eyes to meet mine. I’m sensing he’s laughing at how gullible I am.
“Stop laughing,” I tell him, unable to hide my annoyance.
“Excuse me?” Drew’s voice startles me.
“Sorry, babe, not you. Slater’s being a pain in my ass today showing off with his pizza, and he overheard what I just said and thinks I’m a loser.”
The line is quiet, not even any background noise filtering through. Pulling the phone away from my ear, I check the screen which shows the call’s still connected.