by Lexi Whitlow
“You we’re having a hard time focusing on me when you told me you guys had won. I tried to talk to you more about it but we we’re interrupted and then you two took off towards the beach.”
“So, I could be married to Freya, or I might not be.”
“You should probably try to figure out that answer before we go home. Did you get a marriage certificate or license? Any sort of paper work that would tell us more?”
I pull put my wallet and open it up to inspect. And wouldn’t you know it, there folded next to a single Euro is a marriage certificate for a Freya Marie Ellis and an Andreas Alfred Hoffman. It’s witnessed by a Father Vorensio. Who the fuck is Father Vorensio, and why can’t I remember him?
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Oh, Mother is going to kill me,” I groan.
“If the marriage is real, and it certainly looks like it is, you need to head to Scotland and get a divorce or an annulment. You know how Mother and Father feel about commoners, especially the American variety.”
“I need to find out if this is legally binding first.”
“You also suck at controlling your impulses, doing research, and generally being responsible.”
“Oh Christ, give it a rest, Caelan. I’m sure this is a mistake.”
He snatches the marriage certificate from my hand and looks it over. “Doesn’t look like any kind of mistake I’m familiar with. This looks like a marriage certificate. A real one.”
I know that he’s right, but it feels wrong. If I really married Freya when I was drunk, then some part of me probably wanted too— and what’s so wrong with that? I remember the competition and joking about the wedding, and I swear I remember confirming that it was fake. But none of it makes much sense.
It could be a good thing, though, couldn’t it? I look over at Caelan, who is solemnly finishing a beer and ordering another. He looks miserable. Even when he and Allison were fighting and arguing, he looked content, even happy. His whole demeanor was different with her than it is at home. His body was relaxed, his fists unclenched, his eyes open and his smile wide. Right now, I can see him reverting to his old self. I can just about see his thoughts too, imagining the details of the royal wedding to Eleanora Arconti. We’re not a well known royal family, but this would make us into one. That’s part of what Mother and Father are going for—a strong public alliance and good publicity when we finally join the EU. And Caelan is going to be their poster child.
I don’t have to be.
I’m the second son, I have the freedom to marry as I choose. Last night might not have been the ideal situation. I’d always imagined I’d marry late in life, if at all, maybe on a remote island in Indonesia or the Philippines. And I suppose if I thought about it, I guess I was planning on marrying a woman I love. I haven’t been in love before—not even close. I ride the uncomfortable thoughts like a wave.
“What is love supposed to feel like?”
Caelan gives me a look. “That’s a shitty question for an morning hangover brunch. Especially considering my situation. Thanks for your sensitivity, Andreas.”
“Yes, well. I’m serious. Answer. You’re always the one with the answers, big brother.”
He sighs heavily. “I don’t know. I think we didn’t have a great example when it comes down to it. Mother and Father were thrown together. I think they’re dedicated to each other and the family. But I think there’s something more. A spark. I don’t fully know how to answer that.”
“Maybe I love Freya,” I say. “I might.”
“Are you serious?” He gives me a hard, discerning look.
“Yes,” I say. It’s true. If it isn’t love, it’s as close as I’ve ever been. I know for certain I want to see her again. And the thought of dissolving this marriage—if it is that indeed—doesn’t sit well with me. I want to do something crazy, something impulsive, something wild.
He sighs. “How inconvenient.”
“Will you support me if she wants to give me a chance?”
Caelan dramatically rolls his eyes. “Yes, begrudgingly. It’s a good distraction from what’s coming up for me, anyway. I suppose I’m up for one last adventure.”
I’m relieved by his words.
Now I just have to get my wife on board with me.
13
Freya
I’m dragging by the time I finally get to our gate at the airport. The flight was overcrowded and loud and between that and my lack of sleep from the night before, I’m a grumpy mess right now.
This bratty little kid at the airport stuck his tongue out at me and I gave him the glare of death my mom was accustomed to giving me when I was growing up. The kid was instantly terrified, and I went about my business without a second thought. Usually I’m sweet and laid back, but I hit my limit for the day hours ago.
I haven’t been able to get Andreas off my mind—it’s just making things worse. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel. My emotions are all over the place and there isn’t one feeling that comes in first. I halfway remember promising to see each other.
I remember something else too. It’s blurry. There was a dance contest and a wedding on the beach, but somehow that can’t be right. There was a lot of seafood involved, and way more alcohol than I’m used to consuming.
“I guess it’s up to him to contact me,” I mutter as I hoist my bag into the back of an Uber at the airport.
“What was that?” Ally asks, putting on her sunglasses and sliding into the car like she’s as hungover as I am.
“Nothing,” I say, slamming the trunk and huddling in next to her. The air has a deep chill today that tells me winter is still here. That’s how it goes here. Normally, I like it. But there’s something about Ibiza that’s sticking with me. Maybe that’s just how it is after a vacation like that, especially when it involves a man like Andreas.
“You heard from Andreas? You two were pretty close on the beach last night. Looked like you were having a wedding.” Ally lowers her sunglasses and looks at me.
“No,” I say absently. I’ve checked my phone six times since we landed. “We just won a dancing contest and got dinner.”
“Wasn’t there some kind of ceremony?”
I shrug. My head still hurts thinking about it. “Don’t think so. It’s kind of hazy.”
In the pit of my stomach, something doesn’t sit right when I think about it. Maybe there was something.
Either way, he hasn’t contacted me, and it’s likely he won’t.
And if my mom’s right, Kirk’s probably here in Scotland, waiting to work things out. Oh joy of joys. What a thing to come home to.
We roll through the misty streets of Glasgow back to the small apartment complex we call home for right now. It’s not much, but it gives us access to one of the best universities in the world. I wonder what Andreas would think of our little place after all the amazing places he’s been in the world.
We unpack the Uber and make our way upstairs. Ally stumbles into her room to sleep for another eight hours, and I’m left sitting on our couch, thinking about Ibiza and watching the rain patter against our window.
Andreas is a fantasy.
But my life here is real, and I need to face it. There’s work to be done and Kirk the Jerk to talk to, and the semester to finish after that.
When I get into our shower, I think of Andreas, his hands soaping my body after he came inside of me. But he’s a memory for now.
The ball’s in his court because I have shit to do.
I groan and shake my head, shutting off my brain for the day so I can slip into bed and get some much-needed rest.
Before I slip into bed, I text Kirk and ask if we can meet up. After all, he has a bunch of my stuff back at his apartment in the states, and he can deliver it to my mom’s house when he’s not out looking for tail.
I wake up and have this feeling in the bottom of my gut like I’ve made a grave error—and I have. I agreed to have dinner with my cheating ex, and I miss Andreas so much it hurts.
One of those things I can fix. By having dinner with Kirk, I can get closure for what happened between us. If nothing else, I at least deserve that from him. I won’t go crawling back to him because he’s a complete and utter piece of shit. But I need to tell him that to his face—I need him to know that what he did hurt. Since he’s come all this way, I can let him speak his peace and then we can go from there.
I don’t know what to expect with Kirk, but I know that I can handle whatever he’s got planned. That I’m sure of.
Andreas on the other hand, remains a mystery. I haven’t gotten a text from him, and I half-wonder if he has my number in his phone correctly. I know we didn’t leave each other’s sides much after we met again at the beach. There wasn’t a need to text me. I make a mental note to double check with Ally if she has a number for the guys. Maybe I should reach out first. It couldn’t do any harm, could it?
I get dressed and go to make myself some coffee; it feels like a whole pot kind of day and I measure my coffee out accordingly. As it starts to percolate, I get some cereal and sit down at the counter to eat while I wait a little longer for the coffee to finish. A wistful memory takes me—I smile as I remember the morning I was drinking a cup of the very best coffee, watching the waves from the balcony at the villa.
Ally comes in and breaks my daze. “Good morning, sunshine,” she greets and breezes past me to get some freshly brewed coffee. “I’ll never get tired of waking up to freshly brewed coffee. Praise you, Frey,” she jokes as she takes the first hot sip.
I get up and get a cup too then sit back down. I watch as Ally gets one of her breakfast sandwiches ready before she slides in beside me to eat. We sit in comfortable silence and when I’m done with my cereal I ask her about having Caelan’s phone number.
She looks at me with a sad smile. “I didn’t get anything from him before we left. We had fun together, but it wasn’t like we wanted anything serious, not like you and his brother.”
“I just wanted to make sure I have his number right. And that he has mine right. I mean… I haven’t heard from him…” My voice trails off. I’m intensely aware that I sound like a high school girl with a long-distance crush.
“So it’s like that, huh?” She gives me a meaningful look. “You sure you two didn’t get married? Caelan thought you did.”
“What made you think that we were that serious?” I ask out of curiosity. She said it so confidently—as if it were fact with no question of the validity.
Ally turns and looks at me curiously, like I’ve just asked the strangest of questions. Before she’s able to respond, her phone rings and she gets up, goes back to her bedroom and shuts the door.
I shrug it off and pick up the dirty dishes from our meal. I refill my coffee in a to-go cup, deciding that some fresh air will do me good. There are some really cute, older book stores that are calling my name and I can’t wait to see what those dusty bookshelves have in store for me today.
I leave Ally a note and head out for the day.
A couple of days later I find myself sitting across from Kirk in a quiet restaurant. He has the grace to look apologetic for his transgressions, though I notice that he doesn’t actually say what those transgressions are. He simply apologizes for his role in our break-up. He claims that he’d be faithful to me and me alone.
All I have to do is say yes and agree to give him a chance again. It could be as easy as that. Yet it’s not. Nothing is ever black and white—gray always manages to filter in.
“We could have a family together,” he croons, grabbing my hand from across the table and holding it in his. “Get married, have kids, get a house. Build a life together like we’re supposed to.”
“We already had those plans, Kirk,” I tell him. “Or at least I was under the impression that we did. When you asked me to marry you all those things were implied with that. When you offer marriage, it’s not just the getting married part. It includes building a life together with the person you chose to spend the rest of your life with. Through thick and thin, for better or worse.”
He nods. “I know that, but right now I feel like this is a better or worse part. I messed up, but I want to be with you, Freya. That’s never changed in all the years we’ve been together. It’s always been you and me. I don’t know what to do if you’re not in my life anymore.”
He speaks from the heart and says the words I’ve wanted to hear but they feel false now. The picture Kirk paints is nothing but a broken dream, one that he tainted by his own actions. Kirk is the one who is responsible for the end of us—I hold to this as fact. He was the one running around with whoever he wanted, and he got caught, not me.
I don’t want him back.
We might have only broken up a few weeks ago, but it feels like a lifetime has happened since then. I think of the wonderful time Andreas and I spent together during our little Ibiza get away, all the nights tangled up in each other. We made a lifetime of memories in a short time span, and I didn’t miss Kirk once during that time. Andreas filled whatever void Kirk had left which is really all the answer I need.
Kirk is silent, watching me and waiting for me to open my heart to him, but that won’t be happening.
“Did you really think that coming all the way here would make me say yes?” I ask him.
His smile turns sour. “Not necessarily, but I wanted you to know that I was completely serious in my offer,” he says, trying to keep my attention with his head-on gaze. “We were so good together, Ally.”
“And what made us good together, Kirk? Was it that I looked good on your arm? Or that your parents approved of me? That I have plans to get a PhD and have a job at the top of my field? That might be a useful thing for a lazy grifter like yourself.”
He tries to take my hand in his, but I pull it away quickly.
“Babe, that’s not true. I mean, I love you because you’re smart and amazing, and I think of the family we’d build together—”
“Put a plug in it, Kirk,” I respond, almost growling.
“I just want you to give me a chance.”
I take a deep breath in and release it, trying to calm myself down. “I’m sorry, Kirk, but I can’t say yes to your offer. I don’t want to. You broke my heart. And we weren’t really in love. You don’t love me. It’s pretty clear you never did.”
“And you’ve found love between the time we broke up and now?” he scoffs. “I find that hard to believe.”
I just shrug. “I found out that I didn’t have it with you. Whether or not you believe it—that’s your problem.”
It’s strange to talk about love after leaving Andreas days ago. I haven’t managed the courage to get in touch with him, and there’s been nothing on his end. That’s fine. In the time I spent with him, it became apparent that I could find something with another man, and that man did not have to be Kirk. It’s not love, not necessarily. But between me and Andreas, there’s something far more than I ever had with Kirk.
The waiter brings our bill, and after paying, Kirk offers to take me home. It’s not ideal, but I’m broke after being on vacation and then I won’t have to spend the money on a cab.
The ride is a silent one, and I’m grateful because our conversation at dinner was draining.
He parks and instead of just letting me out he gets out too saying he’ll walk me to my door. It’s something that he’s always done so I don’t put too much thought into it until we’re standing at my door and he doesn’t want to leave.
“What are you doing, Kirk?” I ask, exasperated. I get a knotted, nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. He reaches his hand out and puts it against the door frame, towering over me with his lanky frame.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“About what? That I’m done with your bullshit? Yep.”
Just then the door opens, and Ally is standing there with a weird look on her face. Her teeth are clenched into a strange, forced smile. “Hey Freya!” She smiles. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“Ow, Kirk, that hurts!” I try to kick him in the shin, and his grip around my arm only strengthens.
“We’re still talking, Freya.”
“We’re not now. Why don’t you go home, Kirk? You’ve never visited me before, and I don’t want anything to do with you now. Just go.”
Before he has a chance to answer the door is ripped back, and a very, very angry looking Andreas is standing there. He wastes no time as he moves to punch Kirk in the nose. Kirk dodges, but Andreas shoves him into the wall across from our apartment door.
“Keep your grabby hands off my wife!” he yells as Kirk sinks to the floor. The knotted pit in my stomach returns and I look between them.
Kirk’s eyes grow wide, and I sink to the floor just inside my apartment, my knees weak and my heart pounding hard.
I watch as Ally pushes Kirk toward the elevator. Kirk looks back, giving me a pale, wide-eyed look.
I don’t know who’s more surprised—Kirk or me.
14
Andreas
Did you really say wife or was that my imagination running wild?” Freya asks.
Allison, Andreas, and I sit in the living room after we hear the door shut downstairs and make sure that Kirk is walking away from the building.
I wasn’t planning on telling her like that, but that loser was being a dick and Freya’s had to deal with enough of his shit already. She’s my wife and she’s mine now, whether she knows it or not.
I nod. “Yes. Do you remember getting married or anything about it?” I ask gently. I don’t want to upset her too much since I know her mind must be running like wild right now.
Mine has been for the past several days. I met with every official in Ibiza it seems like, and I made sure that this was absolutely the real thing. I don’t know exactly how I feel about it, but I’m here in Scotland looking at the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And she looks utterly bewildered.